#it feels too emotional for an early part of the fic in a way that can even be ooc which makes me self conscious | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 1 year ago

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❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally.

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them.

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents.

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him.

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow.

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you—

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said.

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—”

“That was years ago—”

“She has a key to your apartment—“

“So do you!” he glares.

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,”

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—”

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,”

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,”

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins.

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again.

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout?

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about?

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time.

You: Let’s keep it that way! :)

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table.

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again.

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything.

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway. And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night.

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,”

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched.

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,”

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh.

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,”

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,”

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,”

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned.

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him.

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own.

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it.

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,”

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?”

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch.

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance.

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine.

One he couldn’t dare to cross.

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t.

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem.

Or at least, not his main problem.

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out.

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut.

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded.

That should have been his first clue.

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold?

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you.

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping.

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on.

Fuck.

No, he couldn’t.

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand.

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit.

“Suguru, please—“

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does.

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass.

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now.

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold.

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it.

What the fuck is going on?

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him.

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties—

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked.

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up.

“It’s not like you to call—“

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,”

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?”

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?”

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought.

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on.

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice.

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?”

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,”

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,”

His phone buzzed with texts from you:

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me!

You: are you home?

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it.

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter.

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,”

Another knock.

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight.

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?”

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,”

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe.

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers.

“Suguru—“

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you.

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck.

He was so fucked.

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop. He couldn’t. Not until you agreed.

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?”

And he can’t hold back.

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt.

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips.

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse.

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork.

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body.

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,” And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides.

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time.

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath.

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly.

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs.

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?”

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,”

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,”

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes.

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt.

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth.

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts.

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again.

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them.

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,”

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care.

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,”

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds.

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan.

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches.

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him.

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now.

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it.

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart.

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do.

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers.

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would.

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure.

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—”

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,”

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips,

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you.

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,”

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,”

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—”

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt.

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—”

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—”

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,”

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,”

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you.

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water.

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?”

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment.

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you—

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you.

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little.

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip, “Sugu?”

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water.

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you?

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?”

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,”

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?”

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off.

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys.

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,”

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no,

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies.

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera.

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.”

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

#sab [mlist]#geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x you #jjk x you

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tannedalien · 1 year ago

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HAZBIN HOTEL X READER HC #1

Head canon: what it would be like to date them.

characters: Alastor, angel dust, husk, vox

disclaimer: everything i write about these characters might not be accurate to the actual story, please take everything in the fic with a grain of salt, none of this is canon!!

Alastor

he hasnt been in an actual relationship in a while so being close and vulnerable with someone is quite hard for him, especially as someone who associates emotions with weakness.

First off, its safe to say he adores the ground you walk on. He's in love with everything about you, your clothes, the smell of your hair, your sickly sweet voice. his loves it all.

If there was ever a problem you needed fixing, a person you needed taken care of or even a errand you needed to run he would tend to it himself. he would not let you lift a finger.

PDA is a iffy thing for him, he wouldnt do grand big gestures but maybe a hand on the hip or a few words of affirmation.

everyone in the pride ring quickly learned of yours and radio demon's relationship. And no one dared to mess with you, ofcourse there was people who wanted to test their luck but they would have to pay the price later.

his love language is definitely words of affirmation, he will sweet talk the shit out of you. At night when it's just you two in bed, he will have his hands stroking through your hair whilst you rant to him about your day and he'll reply with sweet nothings

"oh darling, i've missed you all evening"

"you looked ravishing today my dear.."

"mm your hair smells amazing, my love"

Angel Dust

Angel is one of, if not, the horniest mother fuckers out there but somehow, he manages to somewhat make a healthy relationship with someone.

you two are seen as "the bad bitch" couple. you're always out together, always getting into dumb shit together. You'll get yelled at by vaggie at early hours in the morning because the two of you where playing a childish game of tag in the hotel halls.

his love language is definitely physical touch, he'll have his arms slung around your waist almost all the time. Kisses are a MUST every 5 minutes, like this boy will NOT part from you. especially in the mornings when you have to leave for work;

"mmnnnnoooooooo...stayyy for five minutes pleasseeeee"

"but sweets..you're soooo warm"

"sweetheart please, you feel so comfy"

yeah good luck with that.

nights with him are VERY eventful, if it wasn't obvious. You two would usually be at it late hours into the night but sometimes, when you two where too exhausted to fuck like rabbits, he would be sprawled across your lap whilst you stroked his fur.

Husk

Despite his harsh tone and uncompromising demeanor, you understood that Husk wasn't trying to be malicious towards you. It was simply his way of communicating, and you knew that his behavior wasn't personal. Even though he could be abrasive at times, you loved him for his rough edges and authentic personality

You and Husk's time together was mostly spent at the bar. You didn't like to drink much, but you loved seeing him work and make cocktails like a pro. You didn't mind that it wasn't considered a typical date, because you liked spending time with him in whatever way he felt most comfortable.

Husk is not used to receiving compliments, as he didn't often receive them in his past life. When you complimented him, it caught him off guard and he was surprised. But he eventually learned to appreciate it, and it even made him feel a little sentimental.

Despite the difficulty, you were able to help Husk realize that you genuinely cared about him. He had been used to being surrounded by dishonesty and hypocrisy, but you were always sincere and real. He held you in high regard, as you were the only source of light in his life, and he didn't want to lose you.

vox

You were known as a strong and independent person who didn't need assistance from others. You knew how to stand up for yourself, despite being harsh and tough at times. Despite your exterior, no one was aware of the soft spot in your heart that Vox's affection and touch alone could melt away your severity.

He appreciated seeing your affectionate side, as it felt special and intimate, like a shared secret between the two of you. He knew you valued your privacy, and he respected it by never sharing photos or other details on social media. He didn't want to betray your trust.

You were often feared and respected when you were with Vox. People found it hard to believe that someone as intimidating as yourself could have a tender, caring side that was kept hidden from most. Vox was glad that he was the only one who got to see that side of you. He didn't want to share something so special and personal with anyone else.

Quite often, he would call you on the phone, knowing that sweet words could be just as effective as a kiss. He enjoyed hearing how your voice softened from its usual seriousness to a more affectionate tone. He was aware that when he said loving phrases to you, you would blush and smile shyly, and sometimes he even regretted not being able to witness it in person.

"i've missed you today babe.."

"mhm look at my pretty girl/boy!"

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x Reader #Hazbin Hotel headcanons #Alastor #Alastor x Reader #Vox #Vox x Reader #Hazbin Hotel oneshots #Husk #Husk x Reader #angel dust #angel dust x reader #vivziepop\

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deansbeer · 13 days ago

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✷ ◟ ECHOES OF DESIRE ৎ᠀

library introduction minors do NOT interact!

SYNOPSIS. you never expected to hear dean's thoughts this clearly—especially not when they're about you in the most unexpected way.

KARI'S NOTES. ignore the fact that my blog is a mess of things & i've changed the layout for my fics many times :) can this also be considered an early bday gift for dean ??? i have a lil something planned for his special day but idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ this is somewhat cutesy ig lol + tiny disclaimer <3 the photos above r used solely for aesthetic purposes !!!!

it's late in the bunker—the kind of silence that feels heavy, pressing against your ears as you sit alone in the library. sam and dean have both retreated to their rooms for the night, finally giving in to the exhaustion that comes with long hunts and endless research. but you? you're wide awake, as usual, hunched over a pile of lore books with your bunny, bolt, nibbling on hay in a little pile you set out for him. the faint sound of his chewing and the occasional rustle of paper are the only things breaking the stillness.

you pop another blue peanut m&m into your mouth, the faint crunch grounding you as your eyes scan the faded text in front of you. you're so close—so damn close—to deciphering the last piece of this puzzle for their next case. you can feel it right there, just out of reach, the answer dancing at the edge of your mind.

but then, like a radio station suddenly switching frequencies, you hear it.

someone's thoughts.

you pause mid-bite, your jaw tightening as you inwardly groan. who the hell is thinking this loud so late at night?

it's not unusual for you to pick up on stray thoughts; it's part of being a telepath. but this? this is loud. intrusive. like someone shouting directly into your brain. you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to block it out, to focus on the task at hand. you've gotten good at tuning people out over the years, but some thoughts are harder to ignore than others.

you shake your head, turning the page of the lore book in front of you, determined to push through the distraction. but the thoughts don't stop. they keep coming, louder and more insistent, like waves crashing against the shore.

and then you realize something.

these thoughts… they're familiar.

at first, you think it's sam. he has a tendency to overthink even in his sleep, his dreams sometimes bleeding into his waking thoughts. but no, this isn't sam. his mind is quiet, the kind of stillness that comes with deep, dreamless sleep.

it has to be dean.

your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat as the realization settles in.

dean.

you grip the edge of the table, your fingers curling tightly around the wood as his thoughts flood your mind. he's begging. it's desperate, raw, like he's pleading for something he can't have. but it's not just his words—his emotions are pouring through, too, overwhelming you with their intensity.

your chest tightens, your heartbeat quickening to match his. there's a strange knot forming in your lower abdomen, a heat that spreads through your body, and you have to clutch at your stomach to steady yourself. biting down on your bottom lip, you try to hold back the whimper threatening to escape.

he's calling your name. not out loud, but in his mind. over and over, like a prayer.

and then it happens—something that's never happened to you before.

you see through his eyes.

for a moment, you're no longer in the library. you're somewhere else entirely, looking through dean's gaze as he lies in bed. your breath hitches as you take in the scene before you: his hand, moving with a rough, almost frantic rhythm over himself, and in the other hand?

a polaroid.

your polaroid.

it's a picture he took of you during one of your outings, the sunlight making your skin glow as you posed for a photo. you remember the moment vividly—how he insisted on taking the photo despite your protests, how he teased you about how good you looked in your little dress.

and now he's using it.

you let out a tiny gasp, the sound startling bolt, who looks up at you with wide, curious eyes. you're back in the library now, your cheeks burning as you try to process what you just saw.

dean. was. masturbating. to. your. photo.

you shake your head, trying to banish the image from your mind, but it's too late. it's seared into your memory, the raw need in his thoughts still lingering like an echo.

you don't get much sleep after that.

the next morning, you're in the kitchen, trying to shake off the haze from the night before. bolt sits at your feet, munching on his breakfast as you make yourself a cup of coffee. you're dressed in one of your favorite nightgowns, a tiny blue satin thing with lace trimming, paired with a matching silk robe. it's comfortable, soft against your skin, and you don't think much about it as you move around the kitchen.

you're lost in thought, replaying everything from the night before, when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. you turn, startled, and there he is.

dean.

he's rubbing his tired eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction, and his t-shirt clings to his chest in a way that makes it hard not to stare. he doesn't say anything at first, just grunts in acknowledgment as he heads for the coffee pot, but you can feel the tension radiating off him.

"morning," you say, your voice light, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

"mornin'," he mutters, his voice rough with sleep.

you take a seat at the table, bolt hopping onto your lap as you sip your coffee. dean follows a moment later, his eyes flicking to the bunny and then to you.

"does he have to sit on your lap?" he grumbles, though the jealousy in his thoughts is loud and clear.

you can't help but smirk. "why are you so jealous of a bunny?”

his eyes narrow, and he shoots you a pointed look. "stay out of my head, sweetheart."

but you're not about to let him off that easily. setting your coffee down, you lean forward slightly, your gaze locking onto his.

"how come you were begging for me last night?"

he freezes, his jaw tightening as his eyes widen. for a moment, he looks like a deer caught in headlights, and you almost feel bad for him. almost.

"i don't know what you're talkin' about," he says quickly, his voice stiff as he avoids your gaze.

you frown, not buying his act for a second. "dean."

he tries to deflect, asking you something about the research you were doing last night, but you're not letting this go.

"don't lie to me," you say softly, your voice firm. "i know what i heard. i know what i felt."

his cheeks flush, a rare sight that only makes you more determined. but DEAN WINCHESTER is nothing if not stubborn, and he's not about to admit what you already know.

two idiots in love, too afraid to take the leap.

and yet, the truth lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniable.

SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @deanswidow @lacydollette @fallbhind @beausling @figthoughts @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @florchids @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @honeyryewhiskey @bluemerakis @deansbite @lustagel @rafespreciosa @jasvtsc @voidsuites @t3l3vangelism . . . ☆

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vettelsvee · 7 days ago

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Hello! I hope this is the correct way to request..., can you write a lewis story for prompt 28? It can be something like, reader is a new wag and there is some online hate, and lewis comforts them. It's completely fine if you don't wanna do this story, Thank you!! 💞

DON'T LET THEM SAY THAT. YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL | Lewis Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton x Actress!Reader

SUMMARY: Lewis and you decided to make your relationship public in Maranello before 2025 Formula 1 season starts. However, love from fans isn't there as you expected ↳ REQUESTED: Part of VEE'S F1 PROMPTS LIST (VOL. I)! Feel free to request anything you want <3 Hope you liked it anon! 💖

WORD COUNT: 2043

WARNINGS: Age gap (reader is on her early 20s and Lewis is 40), fans acting like crazy, hate towards Y/N

VEE'S NOTES: I received this prompt on the inbox today and I don't know how I wrote, corrected, translated and corrected once again it today. Also, first ever Ferrari!Lewis fic I'm so emotional right now. Not really happy with the result since like Y/N in this fic, I have many intrusive thoughts about my writing and I didn't have the best of the weekends, but hope you enjoy it anyways! Remember that I appreciate your comments, feedback, as well as reblogs, thank you so much! :)

The whirlwind of emotions you’ve experienced since your relationship with Lewis Hamilton became public has been unimaginable... and that’s putting it lightly.

Although you were somewhat used to the spotlight thanks to your rising career as an actress, flashes from cameras, crowds shouting for you to turn around so they could get a picture, and the occasional fan asking for a photo or autograph, the world of Formula 1 was completely new to you.

You couldn’t deny that you were unhappy with how drastically your life had changed. The man who had just joined Scuderia Ferrari had become everything you had ever imagined in a partner. kind, undeniably caring, and, most importantly, empathetic enough to understand how overwhelming this sudden rise in fame was for you.

Lewis had noticed how down you’d been ever since he decided to post those photos of you both in Maranello. You had both agreed to go together so he could test one of those legendary red cars for the first time, fully aware that people would inevitably start talking. That day, you decided to make your relationship public after keeping it a secret for about six months, agreeing that it was best to do so before the 2025 season began.

Despite it all, despite how much you had started closing yourself off in the following weeks, Lewis remained by your side, making you feel like the most important person in the world. But it was becoming increasingly difficult for him, especially when all you did was act like everything was fine on the outside while you were slowly destroying yourself inside.

The nightmare began with small comments on the photo Lewis had uploaded to Instagram, just you, posing timidly in front of the Ferrari while he held you around the waist, smiling like never before. At first, the comments didn’t seem like a big deal, with people just wanting to know more about your relationship or if it was serious. But soon, the messages started pouring in, insults and threats far worse than you had ever imagined, many of them coming from underage girls. Eventually, you had to disable comments on every single one of your photos, no matter how old they were.

However, what truly became a living nightmare for you were the Twitter threads and, especially, the accounts dedicated exclusively to Formula 1 wags. They were relentless, tearing you apart, analyzing your every move as if dating one of the 20 drivers on the grid was equivalent to committing first-degree murder.

“She’s just looking for fame now that her acting career is taking off.”

“She doesn’t deserve someone like Lewis.”

“She’s too young for him.”

“And let’s not even talk about how ugly she is… have you seen her?”

You sighed, throwing your phone onto the couch with such force that it ended up crashing onto the floor. But you didn’t even bother to check if it was broken. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t read any more comments, wouldn’t even open your Instagram account, yet you couldn’t resist. After all, you were human, and the weight of it all was becoming too much to bear, even more than you were willing to admit to Lewis, to whom you hadn’t fully opened up yet.

The hotel room in Tokyo, where you and Lewis had decided to stay for one of your last vacations before the season began, fell into complete silence. The only sound that filled the space was your muffled sobs.

“And who even is she? Nobody knows her.”

“Lewis deserves someone better, that’s for sure.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away.

You couldn’t understand it. It felt so unfair... Why were you being treated this way just for loving someone? Why did people throw venomous words at you without even knowing you, without even trying to? Did being a fan of Lewis automatically mean they had to hate you?

You tried to relax, to break free from the spiral of thoughts that only led you to overthink, but it was impossible. Once your mind started down that path, the only thing it knew how to do was tear you apart from the inside.

As you tried to steady your breathing and quickly wiped away your tears, a knock echoed at the door.

You pulled yourself together as fast as you could, forcing a smile while glancing at your reflection in the mirror. You swore to yourself that you’d do everything possible to pretend that everything was fine, that you were fine.

But the moment you opened the door and saw Lewis, drenched in sweat from his gym session and pulling out his earbuds, you immediately turned around and rushed into the nearest room, the bathroom, locking yourself inside to keep him from seeing you like this.

“Come on, Y/N...”

Lewis knew you too well by now. No matter how hard you tried to convince him otherwise, he could see right through you, he knew you were struggling, and struggling pretty badly.

He didn’t do anything at first. He didn’t know what to do. He was afraid that whatever he said or did might only make things worse, might make you shut down even more. Instead, he rested his forehead against the closed door, feeling defeated, thinking of ways to make you feel worthy enough to stop torturing yourself over what strangers were saying online, people who knew nothing about your relationship and even less about you.

Eventually, you decided to come out. Lewis saw you, completely defeated, and he cursed himself for letting things get to this point. What had he done wrong to make you feel this way? God, you were just a girl in your early twenties who had recently made the leap to Hollywood stardom after moving to Los Angeles at sixteen, waiting tables in a run-down bar, and facing countless failed auditions until you finally landed the role that changed everything.

“Hey, love,” Lewis spoke as gently as possible, his eyes scanning your red-rimmed ones and your tangled hair. “What’s wrong?”

He knew exactly what was wrong, but he wanted you to be the one to speak, to let it all out.

You took a deep breath and pointed at your phone, still lying on the floor. A nervous knot tightened in your stomach, and your hands began to fidget anxiously. As if on cue, tears started streaming down your face once more.

“I just… I don’t understand why they have to be like this. What did I do to deserve this? Am I not good enough? Not pretty enough for you?”

Lewis sighed. He had known from the beginning that not everyone would accept your relationship, but the amount of hate you were facing was beyond excessive. He was exhausted by the senseless comments and social media accounts created solely to spew hate at you. And even more, he was tired of becoming tabloid fodder, followed everywhere by paparazzi eager to capture any moment they could.

Seeing you like this hurt him in ways he couldn’t even describe, and it made him feel miserable.

“Hey, Y/N… look at me.”

Despite speaking to you firmly and holding your hand, gently rubbing your skin with his thumb to calm you down, you didn’t respond. Lewis then cupped your chin delicately, forcing you to look at him.

“I know I’ve told you this a thousand times, and I also know that with how stubborn you are, you probably won’t listen to me, but don’t let what they say about you bother you,” he wanted to say, but all he really cared about was you. “What matters is that I love you, okay?”

“But... why does it have to affect me? Why did I used to not care about anything, and now I care so much about the opinion of strangers?” you asked, hesitantly, biting your lip in an attempt to relax.

Lewis moved even closer to you, wrapping his arms around you. He hated seeing you like this, especially when before all of this started, you were a light in his life, and it was him who used to lean on you when race weekends got overwhelming.

“Because you’re human, babe,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you tighter. “Even though we sometimes say the opposite, we all care about what others think of us, especially when all they want to do is bring us down.”

“But... what if they’re right? What if I’m not what you deserve?”

“Do I need to remind you again that they’re wrong?” Lewis said, pulling you slightly away so your gazes met. “You need to remember how much you mean to me, but more than that, you need to remember who you are and all that you’re worth. That’s all that matters.”

You didn’t say anything else. Instead, you buried your face in his chest, once again crying quietly to avoid him seeing you like this.

“I’m ugly, Lew. Really ugly,” you confessed without lifting your head. “I don’t even know how you love me, or how you agreed to be with me after all those months we spent talking and hanging out as friends, or…”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t let them say that. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, and you’ve always been, alright? Anyone who says otherwise needs to get their eyes checked.”

You laughed, and Lewis felt that as a small victory.

You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. For the first time in a long while, you pushed aside the intrusive thoughts, the destructive comments you saw daily on social media, and allowed yourself the luxury of, for just a moment, trying to stop torturing yourself and accepting that there were things you couldn’t change.

Lewis’s words, while brief and somewhat familiar to you, brought a peace you hadn’t felt in days. You did your best to let the tension in your shoulders melt away, slowly separating from him and moving your arms bit by bit.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lew,” you whispered, once again wrapping your arms around his waist, wishing you could never let go of him.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Lewis chuckled, planting kisses on your forehead. “I’m never going to leave you, and I hope you’ll never leave me either.”

Neither of you said anything more. Your bodies remained close, exchanging shy kisses, making promises that everything would get better as you both talked about the changes you’d face in 2025. That was enough for you both to know things were going to be okay.

You both understood that the big, risky changes you were taking, especially your relationship, were going to be difficult, just like what was happening with you and the wave of hate you were receiving. But once you stopped giving it too much importance, or rather, no importance at all, no one would stop you as the newest couple in Formula 1.

“Hey, listen to me, please... I’ve been thinking about something.”

Lewis’s words caught your attention as you were starting to drift off to sleep in bed. You straightened up, your hand still intertwined with his.

“How about we take a walk, and you can get to know the city a bit?” he suggested. “You know… we could go eat out, hit up an arcade, or maybe…”

“Can you get me a stuffed animal from one of those weird claw machines?!” you interrupted him, excited, which made Lewis burst out laughing.

“Of course, I can get you a stuffed animal, or buy you all the ones you want.”

You smiled, and as Lewis went to the bathroom for a shower, you began to prepare for the day. That moment was exactly when you realized you needed to trust yourself more and, specially, just as Lewis valued you. Because if there was one thing you’d learned from him in the short time you’d been together, it was that, no matter what you did, you’d always be the envy of others, so you just needed to remind yourself that you didn’t need to feel worse for living the life you’d always dreamed of and, moreover, you worked hard to have.

405 notes · View notes

dollfacefantasy · 7 months ago

Note

hi! i just finished reading your most recent fic, (amazing btw 💕) and keep reflecting on the part where leon calls reader a little disappointing.. so i was wondering if you could write some angst with DI leon where he’s quite mean and degrading and saying how he’s disappointed and stuff with reader, yk! then leon lovingly fucks reader after as a way to say sorry? (daddy kink included) thank you <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon goes a little too hard on you one night during sex. upon realizing how much it hurt you, he knows he has to make it up somehow.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, praise/degradation, age gap (20s, early forties), mentions of spanking & not using safeword

word count: 5.2k

a/n: part 1 <3 took me a while to figure out how i wanted to do this but i hope you guys enjoy.

Something isn't right.

That's all you could think while watching Leon idly stir pasta sauce at the stove. You were perched nearby at the counter, observing him as if he was under experimentation. While to anyone else his actions would appear completely mundane, you knew that this gesture was only the first step in something larger.

He never cooked you dinner. In the year and six weeks you'd been with him, he'd only ever made you a real meal twice before. Once being six weeks ago on your anniversary, and the other about four months before that, a couple days after you had a fight that nearly blew the wheels off your relationship.

In each case, there was a reason behind it. Whether to celebrate or make amends, neither was an innocuous decision made at random. You weren't even sure that Leon possessed the ability to be spontaneous, but that was a separate issue for another time. The obvious meaning behind his actions was the cause of the splashing of the noodles being poured into the boiling water making your stomach turn.

Because today wasn't anything special. There wasn't a birthday or an achievement to make an occasion of. That meant it was the other option, the makeup option, and you were extra sure of this because the two of you hadn't exactly been the perfect picture of being in love lately.

"Honey, could you put these on the table for me?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

He looks at you over his shoulder to make sure you see the plates and silverware he's referring to.

"Yeah, sure," you respond.

You hop off the stool you were sitting on and grab the things he wanted you to. This was even worse. He wasn't going to let you eat in peace at the counter like you did when he wasn't here. No, he was going to stare you down across the dining table.

But you still do what he asks. Sighing, you haphazardly put a plate down on both ends of the table with silverware bordering each side to match. You grab glasses next and put them there too. Once everything is in its perfect place, you plop down at your seat, deciding to wait here until he joins you. This chair was out of view from the kitchen which meant you could get a few moments alone to brace yourself.

It's not that anything terrible was going to happen. It was just going to be a conversation. But it would be a relationship conversation, an emotional conversation, something neither of you were good at.

You weren't good at it because you'd never been good at it. Ever since you were a kid, the slightest spotlight put on your feelings had barbs forming in your throat and stinging, salty tears brimming your lash line. Everything had to be coaxed out of you, or you were sure to break down.

Leon wasn't good at it because his version of a conversation came across more as an interrogation. When talking about feelings, he never wanted to talk about his own. He'd never share what was going on in his own head, he only wanted to know what was going on in yours. You were the one struggling; therefore, you were the one he needed to help. You were the mission to be resolved.

You supposed that was consistent with everything else about the man you loved. He always wanted to be the one in control, the one managing the details of your life. It came from the desire to protect. He showed his love by keeping you safe, keeping you from being like him. He went away for weeks on end following orders. When he came home, he liked to be the one doling them out.

And that was how you liked it too. You weren't some unwilling victim. When he offered to try this stuff out with you, you couldn't have been happier. You liked being told to do this and do it now. You liked the security of his lap, the promise that no matter how bad things got he would be there to wipe away your tears and make it all better.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. You were pretty sure you knew what the specific topic of conversation would be tonight. You'd been distant lately. You could already hear his voice ringing through your head telling you that. For the past couple weeks, you hadn't been you. You hadn't been as sweet on him, kissing his cheeks and stroking his hair while you cuddled. Hadn't been hanging off his body or climbing all over him every chance you got. Hadn't been as eager to squeal daddy when he made you cum.

You knew why, and you knew he didn't. That was by design though. You didn't want him to know. This whole situation had spiraled so far out of control, and you just wanted to sweep your mess under the rug and forget about it. You didn't need daddy's help cleaning it up.

It shouldn't even be that big of a deal. Nothing that bad had happened.

The night that had your panties in a bunch happened a few weeks ago. You'd had a shitty day and so had Leon. You were looking to act out, and he was looking to punish.

You gave him some attitude. A few eye rolls and sharp responses when he asked you things. Looking back, you think maybe you should've sensed he was in a bad mood and just dropped it. That's when the other part of you chimes in and wonders why he couldn't do the same for you. Why couldn't he feel out your emotions and realize you needed him? But then you start to feel emotionally stunted, expecting your boyfriend to be a mind reader.

This internal conversation never gets very far.

That night he hadn't read your mind. He'd taken you over his lap and given you a spanking. It was pretty standard. You'd had over a dozen of those by his hand at this point. The slaps weren't the problem. His palm hit you all the same, bringing the sting you craved. The part that stuck with you and created this wedge was just him. It was how he spoke, the way he looked at you.

You could still see the eyes you fell in love with looking at you with nothing but disappointment.

You could still hear him growling in your ear when he had you bent in half and fucked you afterwards. He had you face down on the couch, holding your head against the cushion while he jackhammered into you.

"If you want my attention, all you have to do is ask. You know that. But you never fucking do it. You play these games with me. You think I wanna put up with that? You think I come home and wanna hear you bitching at me too?"

You weren't even sure what about it had got you. It was harsh, sure, but it was supposed to be.

"I want you to be a good girl. To behave. I don't want to deal with a bratty little slut."

He'd said stuff like that before. But in that moment it didn't feel like daddy was mad at you, it felt like your boyfriend was. It didn't feel like you were naughty or misbehaving. It felt like you were pathetic.

"You want daddy's attention so bad, next time you say please like you're supposed to. Don't make me go through the chore of disciplining your ass again. I'm over it."

By some miracle you still got to cum. He came inside you like normal. When he pulled out he'd fallen back onto the cushions of the couch to catch his breath. He lied there, fingers wiping the sweat from his brow as if he'd put in a hard day's work. You sat there unsure of what to do with yourself. After he'd come down a little more, he'd pulled you close, kissed all over your face like normal and taken to you to bed. But you'd laid there with your eyes open, trying not to cry as he snored against the back of your neck.

You're snapped out of your memories by the thud of the pot on the dining room table. Leon stood a few feet away from you, oven mitts on both hands as he placed the dish between your seats. He cracks a smile at you when you look up and meet his eyes.

"I made way too much. I hope you're hungry," he teases.

You respond with a weak grin of your own. Sitting up straight in your chair, you blink a few times and rub your face as if that'd be enough to clear away the past and magically fix everything.

Two of his fingers duck below your chin and guide you to look at him again.

"You ok?" he asks. His voice is tender like it is most of the time when he speaks to you.

"Yeah. I'm just tired," you tell him with a more convincing smile. You're not sure if it works, but he seems to accept it for now.

"Alright," he says, leaning down and kissing the corner of your mouth.

He takes his seat across the table, opposite yours. You get the privilege of serving your portion first. You shovel a helping of pasta onto your plate. The red sauce spreads on your plate, and you grab a piece of toast to soak some of it up. Leon repeats your actions and gets some of the food for himself. He had made too much. You'd definitely have leftovers, but that was nothing to complain about. He made dinner before these conversations for a reason. Like anything else, he was a good cook when he wanted to be.

The meal starts off silent as you had expected it to. You both eat instead of trying to talk. Forks hitting plates and bread crunching into two fills the room in the place of words. A sense of calm comes over you, but you know it won't last forever. Eventually, Leon does break the silence with some basic questions. How was your day, wasn't this summer heat killer, did you see he fixed that thing in the garage you'd asked him to. It's fine. Just fine like everything had been for the past couple weeks.

The conversation reaches another lull though, and this is when he goes for the killing strike.

"Baby, I think we need to talk," he sighs.

You raise your eyebrows as if you hadn't been expecting this.

"About what?" you ask after swallowing your mouthful of pasta.

Now he raises his eyebrows. He's not disappointed, but he knows you're playing dumb and doesn't appreciate it. It's affectionate though. It doesn't look like it did a few weeks ago.

"I know something's bothering you," he tries softly.

"I told you I was tired," you shrug and look away.

"It's not just today though. It's been more than a few days," he says.

You sigh and put your fork down. You're conscious of every part of your reaction in an effort to avoid looking pouty or melting into tears.

"I don't know. The past few weeks I just haven't felt great. It's not like a crisis situation or something," you say.

"Then tell me about it, sweetheart," he says, trying to will you to look up at him with his gentle tone, "I want to help, but I don't know what's wrong. Every time I try, you pull away."

"Not on purpose," you add. It's an important defense to you.

"I'm not saying it's on purpose," he says. You can tell he's trying to be as non-confrontational as possible. Maybe he does pick up on your emotions a little bit. "All I'm saying is that I'm worried about you."

And with one little sentence, you feel the spikes starting to poke through. You look down and place your palm on your eyes. You felt ten times more pathetic than you had a few weeks ago. He can see you're getting closer to breaking, so he continues.

"You can talk to me. If you need something or I did something, I just want to make it better," he continues, "I don't like not knowing what's going on in that pretty head. I like it even less seeing you look so sad."

Your lip wobbles. A last resort to hold in the barrage of emotions. "It's nothing," you choke out.

"It's not nothing if it has you this upset," he counters, speaking quietly, "Just talk to me, little love."

That's all it takes, and you can't hold it anymore. Tears leak from your water line and draw limpid streaks down your face. You bite your lip to nip any audible cries in the bud. It doesn't matter though, he still sees the small droplets of water.

"My baby," he coos, "C'mere."

You rise to your feet in an instant and round the table. He pushes his chair back and takes you into his lap. You're cradled by his warmth, safe against his chest as he rubs your back. As much as you loved mentally complaining about his interrogations, maybe this is what you needed. Maybe this worked for you.

"You're ok. I'm right here," he murmurs.

He kisses your hairline and cups the back of your neck to keep you close. He lets you cry it out before attempting any more questions. Once it seems you've settled though, the spotlight is back on you.

"What's wrong, sunshine?" he whispers.

Try as he might, you still couldn't bring yourself to say the words. It was like two wires in your brain that just did not physically connect. Expressing pain was hard enough, but expressing pain that he caused? This inability killed you, it really did. Thinking about it brings another sob from your lips. You wanted to beat your own ass till she had enough of a spine to just say a few simple words so this could all be over.

You can't do that though, so Leon continues on with his tender questions.

"Can you tell me when you started feeling this way?" he asks with a hint of hesitation.

There that was one you could answer. "Few weeks ago."

He nods, taking any information he could get as crucial.

"Alright... is there something stressing you out?" he asks.

You shake your head. Technically there was something stressing you out, but while you were breaking down, 'stressing out' was code for responsibilities, so the answer is no.

"Problems with your friends?"

Another head shake.

"Family?"

No.

"...Me?"

You almost shake your head again. You could swing just making something up on the spot. But that wouldn't be right to him. He'd done the work of the guessing game and come to the conclusion fair and square. You nod yes.

A whirlpool of emotion forms in his pupils, but it's almost like he knew he was to blame. He nods and sighs. His hand doesn't stop rubbing your back.

"Ok," he breathes, "You gotta give me a hint, honey."

You found words coming a bit easier now that he had led you this far.

"Remember a few weeks ago when you got mad at me?" you rasp and look at him with your watery eyes.

He blinks at you. "We got into a fight a few weeks ago?" he asks.

There's genuine confusion in his tone. He didn't remember. Or at least this day didn't stick out in his mind. He hadn't been dwelling on it since it happened, hadn't been wondering if it meant something greater in the context of your relationship. You weren't sure if that brought you relief or frustration.

"No. It was like... it was when I had a bad day and I came home and you were watching that stupid cop show. And I kept talking. And you told me to shut up. And I said you were only watching it cause you didn't know how to change the channel," you list off some of the events that led to the infamous incident.

He smiles upon remembering that little joke. He found it funny. Then why did he get so mean?

"Don't tell me you've been mad cause I wouldn't let you watch your show instead," he teases.

"No, it's not that. Remember after when you spanked me? And then we fucked on the couch..." you sniffle.

He pauses to think about your words. The gears turn in his head, the pieces fall into place. The lightbulb goes off in his eyes.

"Oh yeah. I remember that," he says. He remembers, but he doesn't understand. "What about it?"

His thumb swipes a few tears away while waiting for the answer you were still trying to formulate.

"Well... like... I don't know," you start. You felt ridiculous verbalizing it. "You just kinda hurt my feelings."

His brows furrow. He still doesn't get it.

"Hurt your feelings?" he repeats, "I didn't hit you too hard, did I? You know if that ever happens you have the word. You say it, and I stop for you in a heartbeat. You know that."

"It didn't hurt like that... it's just some of the stuff you said," you say. The urge to pull away is starting to come back.

"Sweetheart," he says. His voice is dripping with concern. He didn't remember saying anything bad enough that you'd still be twisted into knots over it multiple weeks later. "You know you can use the word for that kind of thing too. Please tell me you know that."

"I know that," you start, feeling a little ashamed. This was exactly why you didn't want to talk about this.

"If I say something that hurts you this bad, you need to tell me. Right when I say it. You tell me to stop. You let me remind you it's not real," he says, quiet but firm. He holds you tighter, unintentionally squeezing more tears out of you. "I only say things I think will get you off. I don't say them to hurt you."

You hide your face in his neck. You felt so fucking pathetic.

"Hey, hey, hey. Shhh. It's ok. I just... I want you to understand, baby," he murmurs. He rocks you back and forth on his lap a bit before speaking again. "Can you tell me why you didn't use the word?"

Leon prayed with everything he had that it wasn't because you were scared of him. If that was it, you might as well pick up the fork off the table and jam it right into his heart. You don't answer, and it worries him. All he gets from you is the feeling of tears dribbling down his throat.

"Did it not hurt till afterwards? Did you think I wouldn't stop?" he coaxes.

You shake your head. "Cause... because I don't want you to think I can't take it," you weep.

While he's relieved it's not what he feared, he didn't expect this.

"What do you mean? You can't take it?" he repeats.

"I don't want you to think I'm a bratty little girl. I told you that stuff was ok, and I don't wanna tap out and make you feel all guilty and stuff," you cry, the words rushing from your mouth.

He sighs and his eyes close for a second. He did feel like a piece of shit now, but with what you just said, he didn't want you knowing that.

"My sweet girl," he says against your head while rubbing your back, "I would never think that about you. The word is there for you to use it whenever you want. It doesn't matter if it makes me worry I hurt you. That's not a bad thing."

You cry more into his neck, clinging to him as if you're trying to merge into one.

"I just don't wanna disappoint you," you sob.

"Baby, baby, baby," he whispers, holding you tight against his chest and rocking you again, "You never disappoint me. You don't. Not when you act bratty, not when you break a rule. That shit is all a game. It's a game, and if you don't like it, we don't have to play it.

"I know you're sensitive. I know you get emotional. I'm with you knowing that stuff. It doesn't make me think of you as an obligation. I like being daddy, but it doesn't make me think of you like that. If it makes you feel like that, we can stop. You're more important than any of it."

"I do like it," you weep, "I just... I don't want you to think I'm pathetic."

"I don't think that. I never have," he says and kisses your temple, "You're my baby. My pretty girl. My favorite person on this planet."

You sniffle and snake your arms around him tighter.

"Pathetic or disappointment never cross my mind when I look at you. Half the time I don't even have thoughts when I see you. You're so fucking gorgeous you take 'em all away," he whispers.

He nudges your head out of the crook of his neck so he can see you. His lips land on your forehead first. Then your nose. Then each cheek. And finally your lips.

"Look at me," he whispers.

You do what he asks and look up at him. You look into his eyes. These were the eyes you fell in love with.

"You are not a disappointment," he says before a kiss, "You are not pathetic. I love you. I love you when you're being good or when you're being a little shit. I love when you wanna call me daddy, but you'd still be mine if you decided you never wanted to say that word again."

"I still wanna call you daddy," you sniffle and give him a small smile.

He chuckles and returns the expression. "That was a quick decision," he teases, "Doesn't sound like you thought it through."

"I did. I still want my daddy," you say and put your head down on his shoulder.

"Good. Cause I'm right here," he says softly, "Daddy's got you."

The problem wasn't totally resolved in Leon's mind. Never again did he want to cause you weeks worth of stress over something like this. But for now, he was happy to see you smile. He could accept this temporary fix. He nuzzles your neck and places a few soft kisses on your throat.

"I think daddy needs to make it up to his baby for being so mean to her. For making her cry like that," he whispers.

A warm tingle branches out through your spine and curves around your ribs. You scoot closer to him in his lap and shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Don't give me that shrug. You know you like being spoiled. Being the center of attention," he whispers.

"Yeah..." you whisper in his ear.

He grunts as he rises to his feet with you in his arms. Your legs lock around his waist before his feet even start moving. He'd clean up the table later. Right now was about you.

He carries you through the house, tosses you onto the bed. You squeak at your glide through the air. He pulls his shirt off and drops his pants before climbing on top of you. Always efficient your Leon.

The warm lengths of his muscular limbs encompass you against the mattress. He starts by kissing you on the mouth, but his lips soon trail down to your neck. Tongue and teeth brush over the balmy skin of your neck. He nips a few hickeys along the curve of your throat, listening for every little hitch in your breath or stifled moan.

"Always with those pretty little noises..." he mumbles against your skin.

He inhales you before moving away, gets his fix of your scent before his hands push your shirt over your head and toss to the floor with his. His hands rub up and down your side, gently squeezing and massaging while his mouth migrates towards your chest. He lays kisses at the tops of your breasts. He can feel your heart pattering against his lips. It drives him crazy, feeling what he does to you down to that level.

Your legs wrap around his waist and pull his body closer. You couldn't get close enough after the weeks of distance. He groans as his crotch comes flush against yours. It's as if he can feel the heat of your center through the layers of cloth that separate you.

He kisses between your breasts, forcing himself to remove your bra before he thinks about your pants. He nuzzles the two spheres of flesh with all the care he holds in his body. He'd never been good with words, and the last few weeks proved as much. Showing you physically how he feels is easier.

"Haven't been able to kiss my girls properly in too long," he murmurs and glances up at you, cocky smile in his eyes.

"You're stupid," you laugh quietly.

"Hey. That's not a nice word, princess. Not one you should be calling your daddy," he chides before giving one of your nipples a few sucks.

You sigh contently and arch into the wet embrace of his mouth. "Sorry daddy," you smile.

"I'm sure you are."

He gives your tits some more attention, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't antsy to get his fingers wet. They fumble with the button on your shorts before he lifts your legs and practically tears the garment loose. He kisses your ankle and down your calf to your knee where his hands take over and press them up against your torso. He can feel your slick creating a wet patch on the front of his boxers and ruts into it. His cock grows stiffer beneath the fabric as if trying to get to you.

"You ready for me, babydoll? Dripping like a good girl? Gonna be nice and easy for daddy to slide right in," he says while leaning down to be close to you.

You nod eagerly, your nose bumping against his.

"Nothing makes it better than having daddy inside, hm?" he coos.

"Don't need anything else," you say and sling your arms around his neck.

That's all he needs to hear. He pushes his underwear down his legs enough so that his cock is free. You feel it slot between your puffy outer folds and prod at your entrance.

He slips it inside, and you both groan. Your head tilts back, allowing him to kiss at your neck some more. You'd had sex since that fight, but this was the first time you were feeling full. The first time you were feeling like his again.

"Daddy," you whine and grab at him. Just what he'd been missing.

His hips start to rock. The bones in his pelvis press right up against your ass. He fucks you deep and slow at first. Each thrust glides over a myriad of sweet spots. Every time he pulls back, you just want him to push right back in.

"That's it, honey. Tell daddy how much you missed him," he grunts.

You don't say it with words. You tighten up around him, squeezing his dick like if it gets out you'll die. The sensation wrangles a moan out of him, and his face drops into your neck. He digs his forearms into the mattress and uses the leverage to pump himself into you harder.

"My perfect, perfect girl. Don't know what I'd do without you," he whispers.

Your eyes flutter shut. You just listen to the sound of his panting, feel his heart beating for you. Your thighs tremble while pressing into his waist. Your toes curl as his hips strike the right angle to batter right where you need him.

"You could never disappoint me," he mutters. You feel his lips moving against your throat. "I love you, sweet girl. Nothing you do could ever change that."

The words are almost enough to make you get all weepy again, but you'd cried enough for one day. Instead your body latches onto him tighter.

"Harder," you whimper.

"You sure, baby?" he hums.

Your nod comes quickly. "Need to feel it more. Need it harder."

So he gives it to you harder. His eyes clamp shut and shroud his vision in darkness. He focuses on thrusting hard, clapping his skin against yours over and over. He pounds into you while pressing his face harder against you too.

You show your gratitude with a whine. His shaft hits just right, fills you up just the way you'd been aching for.

"Almost there, daddy- Can I-" you stumble over words.

"Yeah, sweetheart. You don't gotta ask tonight. You cum when you're ready," he says.

That's how you know he's really sorry. He keeps fucking into you until he feels your limbs fizzling from the proximity to release. Everything about you gets shaky. Your breaths are ragged and labored, your hands vibrate while trying to clutch at him.

"Fuck fuck fuck," you whimper.

The spark goes off inside you, and you cum hard. Your body goes taut and rolls through the waves of euphoria. He can't resist your walls pulsating around him. It's only a handful of seconds before his tummy is fluttering and his seed is spilling from him into your cunt.

"Inside, daddy," you whine as if he needed the direction.

"That's what I'm doing, baby," he grunts through clenched teeth.

He drools against your neck while his hips twitch and the last few drops leak from him. The saliva gets smeared in the messy kisses he leaves on you while pulling out. He rolls over but scoops you up with him, cradling you against his chest in a position that isn't necessarily comfortable but you love anyway.

A series of over the top kisses land on your face. You scrunch your nose and shake your head.

"Quit it. I already forgave you," you giggle, "You don't gotta slobber on me."

"Tsk tsk. Ungrateful," he tuts affectionately, "You know if I didn't give you these, you'd be begging for 'em."

"Mmm... maybe," you acquiesce with a little smile.

"Sure, sure. Maybe. Silly girl," he mumbles and nuzzles your cheek.

The playful touches continues for a moment before he calms down and softens up. You look towards his eyes, and his fingers sweep down your cheek.

"You're ok now?" he asks.

You nod. "We're ok now."

To give him the final shred of reassurance that you could, you stick out your pinky. He rolls his eyes, but sticks his out to and hooks it with yours. He knew you were back to yourself since your inability to be serious had made a reappearance. He smacks a kiss on your lips to seal the deal. He can feel you smiling into it.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil smut #ch: leon kennedy 💌

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kiwriteswords · 1 month ago

Note

I kinda need Hotch accidentally hurting shy!Readers feelings…I need angst with a happy ending!

What's Left Unsaid [Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 1k|| AN: Love to write some shy!reader/hotch dynamics! Also playing out with the gifs and graphics I make for fics a little bit more. Thanks for the request!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, alcohol mention, team outing, bar setting, fear of commitment (stemming from both sides), happy ending but left a little open to interpretation, shy reader, mentions of Beth, mentions of the breakup with Beth, mentions of Jack, Dad!First!Mentality!Hotch, Friends with Benefits, Secret Relationship, Hotch's POV

Summary: When Hotch reveals to the team the reason he doesn't want a relationship, it hurts your feelings because the two of you have been secretly seeing each other, and you're wondering if it is going anywhere.

Hotch sipped his beer, trying to appear relaxed as he leaned back in the booth. The chatter of the team mingled with the ambient noise of the bar, but his attention was subtly tuned to you, sitting just a bit too far away for his liking. In his peripheral vision, he watched you laugh softly at something Rossi said. The sound was like music, and it made him smile, albeit briefly.

You and Hotch had been seeing each other secretly for a few months now. It started casually, two colleagues seeking comfort in each other after long, taxing cases. But slowly, the physical connection had deepened into late-night talks, shared dinners, and quiet evenings watching movies on the couch after Jack had gone to bed. Neither of you had put a label on whatever this was blossoming into, both hesitant to complicate things further. Hotch, especially, feared the implications of wanting more.

The first time it happened, it was almost by accident. You and Hotch had been the last to leave the BAU after a grueling case that had stretched over several weeks. The weight of the ordeal was palpable, lingering in the air like a thick fog. Hotch had offered to walk you to your car, a gesture of simple politeness, but when you reached the parking lot, neither of you seemed ready to part ways just yet.

"Want to grab a late dinner?" Hotch had suggested, his voice low and a bit hesitant. You were surprised; Hotch was always reserved, focused on the job, rarely stepping beyond the professional boundaries he so rigidly set for himself. But that night, something in his eyes—a shared tiredness, a mutual need for decompression—made you nod in agreement.

That dinner marked the beginning of what would become your secret connection. It wasn't planned or discussed; it just naturally evolved as you both found comfort in each other’s presence outside the high-stakes environment of the FBI. The diner meals became a routine, a way to unwind, and slowly, those meetings shifted to more personal settings. Hotch invited you over to watch a movie one evening when Jack was away at a sleepover. You brought over a classic film and takeout and found comfort in the quiet companionship that filled his living room.

You were naturally shy, a trait that often made you a listener rather than a speaker in the noisy dynamics of the team. Hotch noticed this early on. He learned quickly that you communicated more in silence than most did in conversation. He appreciated the quiet moments with you, how you seemed to understand the weight of words left unspoken. But he also knew he sometimes had to coax thoughts out of you, especially when he sensed something was troubling you.

One such evening, as the credits rolled on the screen, he turned to find you lost in thought, a distant look in your eyes. "What’s on your mind?" he asked gently, careful not to startle you out of your contemplation.

You hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Just... thinking about the case," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. But he knew there was more—you often carried the emotional burdens of your work longer and deeper than most.

"It’s more than just the case, isn’t it?" Hotch prodded softly, giving you the space to open up at your own pace. Over time, he had become adept at navigating your shyness, offering you security in his steadiness.

You looked at him, the trust in his gaze encouraging you to share your fears. "Sometimes, I wonder if we ever really make a difference," you confessed, your voice tinged with the fatigue of the many losses you had witnessed.

Hotch listened, nodding, never pushing too hard, always patient. He shared his own doubts and hopes, a rare glimpse into his inner world that made you feel even closer to him.

These moments deepened your connection, transforming it from a simple comfort into something more profound. Yet neither of you dared to define it. Hotch, especially, was cautious, weighed down by the responsibility of being a father to Jack. His previous relationship with Beth had ended amicably but not without its scars—particularly for Jack, who had grown attached and then had to cope with the loss when she moved away.

So, Hotch held back, fearful of repeating the past, even as his feelings for you grew. And you, understanding his concerns, reciprocated the silence on the nature of your relationship. But as the months passed, the unspoken bond between you became a silent promise of support and companionship, even if neither of you yet had the courage to give it a name.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a reminder of an unread message from earlier in the day—something mundane about Jack's soccer practice. He glanced at you again, taking in your shy smile, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. He wanted more, so much more, but the fear of another loss for Jack held him back. It wasn't just about him or even about you; it was about Jack, too.

The conversation shifted, and suddenly the focus was on him. "Hotch," Prentiss started, her tone light but curious, "you ever think about dating again? It's been a while since Beth..."

The question hung in the air, heavier than the smoke swirling above them. The team's eyes were on him, but his flicked to you. He saw the slight stiffening of your shoulders, the curious tilt of your head as you waited for his answer.

He hesitated, his mind racing. "I... I can't imagine putting Jack through that again," he finally said, his voice more gruff than intended. "Getting attached to someone, and then... if it doesn't work out..." He trailed off, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

The team nodded, understanding his protective nature over his young son, but you didn't. He saw the hurt flash across your face before you masked it with a small, polite smile. You excused yourself to the restroom, and Rossi gave him a knowing look, one that said he might have just made a mistake.

Hotch's heart sank. He wanted to go after you, to explain, but he was anchored to his seat by his own fears and the eyes of his team. He drank more deeply from his beer, trying to wash down the guilt.

When you returned, the barrier between you was palpable. You kept your answers short, your smiles forced, and though the team didn’t seem to notice, Hotch felt every inch of the growing distance.

The night ended with the team going their separate ways, and Hotch found himself walking you to your car. The air was chilly, making him wish he could reach out and pull you into his warmth. "About earlier," he started, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, Hotch," you cut him off, though your voice was softer than usual. "I understand. Jack should be your priority. I wouldn't ever want to come between that."

"But you wouldn't," Hotch found himself saying, the words rushing out in a torrent. "It’s not just about protecting Jack. It's... I’m scared of asking for more and then losing it. But what I said it wasn't fair to you. I do want more with you if you want that too."

You looked up at him, surprise evident in your expression. "Really?" There was a cautious hope in your voice, one that made his heart twist.

"Yes, really," he affirmed, stepping closer. The space between you felt charged, his fear momentarily eclipsed by the need to make things right.

You nodded slowly, considering his words. "I need to think about it, Aaron. I... I want more too, but I don’t know how to... not with how things are right now."

Hotch nodded, understanding. "Take all the time you need. I’ll be here," he promised.

As you got into your car, Hotch felt the weight of your words and his own fears. He watched as you drove away, the taillights a red blur in the night. Maybe it was time to confront his fears, not just for his own sake, but for Jack's, and perhaps, for whatever chance he had with you.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

@iyskgd

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wintersera · 3 months ago

Text

"so are you ovulating?" || ningning x succubus!reader

notes: i actually wrote this fairly quick, but finding the right pics for the moodbaoard actually pissed me off erm.. but first of all FIRST NINGNING FIC WE CHEERED (a/n i forgot to say this was a part two of the succubus!reader thing soooo here’s the link!)

cw: tail sex (kinda), succubus!reader, top!ning, bottom!reader, mentions of a singular man

wc: 4k

after the ‘feeding on your unnie’ incident that had happened a few months ago, your performance was phenomenal. with all that energy you gained from that one night, plus some extra other nights following from then with jimin unnie, it was as if your every move, every note and every emotion was amplified by tenfold. you were on fire and the audience could feel your passion for performance burning brightly with every stage you did.

your mentors and managers commented on how energetic you had been for the past couple of months, how your performances were absolutely phenomenal, the knetz weren’t on your ass - which was surprising since almost half of them were all the time. the western fans said that you were, quote on quote,“serving cunt” in the recent solo weverse live you did… whatever that meant. even your own members were surprised at how active you were throughought day and night.

but like everything in life, things weren’t bound to stay all too well.

a few days ago you tripped on stage, and to make matters worse, it was in front of your fans. the audience heard a small little thud and spotted you on the ground looking at the ceiling for a few seconds before you stood up embarrassingly. luckily this was the first take, you had other opportunities to do your very best with the smidge of energy you had left.

knowing your fans, particularly your stans - either they’d make a meme out of you spacing out on the floor, or, they’d spam hashtags all over twitter saying “SM PROTECT YOUR ARTIST” or something around those lines.

not only did that happen, but whilst you were preparing to record your lines in the studio, that familiar pain you would get whenever you were starved from energy came back ten times worse; it felt like you were being pierced in the stomach.

jimin noticed your pained expression and squeezed your shoulder in reassurance as she entered the recording room, but it kind of translated wrong in your head, causing you to moan out loud into the mic in front of your directors - not to mention you could hear yourself through the headphones echo. jimin chuckled lightly “what’s up with you?” then left the room a moment afterwords.

fast forward to the present day. a mundane and repetitive one. you had a photoshoot early in morning and a small meeting sometime in the afternoon and then you were free to do whatever you wanted afterwards. you thought that maybe some vocal lessons later in the evening would distract you, but you were pretty sure your vocal teacher was out with his husband drinking today. good on him, it buys you more alone time, and alone time makes you think about what to do about your situation.

on to more pressing matters, aka your raging desire for sex.

it randomly hit you hard while walking back from the company to your local seven eleven. you thought to distract yourself with buying a sweet treat for everyone, but instead you began to feel dizzy “ouh.. this isn’t good” there wasn’t a bunch of groupies following you around the block to your own misfortune, and it was still bright outside.so what was there to do about that urge?

it’s not like you could message jimin unnie out of the blue and ask to fuck. where was the decorum? plus you’re in the middle of promotions, what if you drain too much energy that she’s unable to perform the next day.

and it also didn’t help that your internal monologue was fucking you up.

“shit, do i just ask the manager to… NO- ew what the hell am i thinking? he’s way older than me. nevermind. why did i think about that jesus christ.”

your options were slim. it was either wait for night, go to the practice rooms and prey on a cute trainee, with consent of course - or go ask jimin unnie again and risk exhausting her even though you just started promotions…

you wondered who was at home right now.

you recalled ning going straight back home as soon as the meeting had finished. you could always ask? i mean she is your unnie after all, it wouldn’t hurt to ask to her.

ah, but it would be awkward though. it’s not like when jimin unnie walked in on you tweaking out and then you had to shamefully ask her to “help you out”. either way you had to go home and do something about it. being out in the open wouldn’t be good for you anyway. anymore stress and you could lose your mind, probably going out of your way to do something that would be highly illegal, and you wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

–

on the way home you couldn’t suppress your excitement. you had already made up your mind to ask ning if you could, you know, do something nasty. multiple scenes were made up in your head. she could bend you over the table, press you against the wall and limit your restrictions with her pretty hands, or maybe she could shove your head into the pillow and pound into your desperate pussy.

as opposed to jimin, you never caught ning wound up in her own thoughts, nor staring at you in a sexual manner. whether it was pracitce, a stage, any event with the members, or an upcoming show, you had never caught her once. maybe she did look at you while you were dancing promiscuously as a joke. even so, her expressions were so nonchalant that even if she was, you would never be able to tell… though that thought alone excited you even more. who knows what her pretty little head was thinking about.

although jimin said to tell the other members about who you actually were to prevent you from being too awkward to ask your members for help, you refrained from doing so because well… you’re just like that, what else. how were you gonna do it anyway- hold a meeting in your apartment around the dining table and say that you need sex to stay active and alive? then what, they’ll eagerly accept the fact that you literally need to be inside of them, or vice versa, so you can get up on stage and preform as if it was a regular ass day.

those five minutes you spent daydreaming and thinking about telling your members were stopped abruptly by the door in front of you. when did the walk home become so quick.

then you started to think once again.

would ning be the type of person to go out of their way to help you? yes she’s that type of person, however, does that mean she would willingly want to have sex with you… god, you don’t know her ‘that’ well. you’re close, close as how close a lifetime friend could ever be, but still, things would be weird if she ultimately says no to your request.

“you’ve been staring at the door for an awfully long time y/n. are you coming inside or do you want to stare at the door a little longer?”

fresh out of the shower, yizhuo greets you with a friendly smile followed by a giggle. her towel sticking against her body showing off the curves of her hips.

oh fuck, why does she have to be wearing that now.

“did you just finish showering? also, girl… get back inside. what if someone sees you with just a towel on” the aroma of your shampoo wafted through the air “you smell good…” you all were tight on money this month, so you all shared things like perfumes, shampoos, pretty much all products you and the other members owned. each time either one of your members had applied your shampoo, god, you had such perverse thought about them, wanting to ravage them until they couldn’t walk or even stand

“yeah i ran out of mine- and yours was newly opened so you know” she had been looking way too good recently, not saying that she never did look good, but there was something about her that made you feel extra desperate and needy. the wetness between your thighs spoke for themselves

“let’s go in. i need to talk to you quickly before my brain explodes” yizhuo cocked her head in confusion, reluctantly following your lead, closing the door behind her as you walked into your guys’ apartment.

you followed behind her as she led you to your shared bedroom, looking up because you didn’t want to turn yourself on even more by staring at her ass “wow, the ceiling looked nice. a pretty beige colour… what the hell am i doing” you thought to yourself with a heavy sigh, looking back down and regretting it immediately. you noticed that yizhuo turned around as you locked eyes with the front of her cream coloured bath towel.

as perceptive as yizhuo was, she noticed a little black swish behind your back. she just played it off, too tired from all the practice, so she thought she was hallucinating a tail or something of the sorts.

now, being both the youngest and the least serious members of the group, you rarely ever had a heart to heart. to talk one to one with each other with the tone you had used, yizhuo must’ve thought that there was some topic you couldn’t bring up with the eldest “hey what’s up? it’s been a while since we last talked seriously” her damp hair against her soft looking skin, the fresh scent of soap and the way she looked at you with worry in her eyes. it almost drove you off the edge. she was so tantalising that you almost missed your cue to speak.

“uh- um, you know how we’ve been besties since i came to korea right?”

“yes”

“and you know we said that we’d always tell each other anything right?” you glanced around the room, avoiding her gaze while your fingers unconsciously played with the fabric of her bedsheets.

“yes…?” ning pondered for a while “…are you going to confess your undying love for me, is that what this is?” she cackled.

“WHAT? no, no- i think that might be less shocking than what i’m about to say” you take a deep breath in hopes to stifle the sound emitting from your booming heartbeat “okay so like, hypothetically speaking, would you have sex with any of the four of us?” for a god awful few seconds you sat tensely, waiting for yizhuo to say something.

“are you trying to redirect my attention from a more important question girl?” her eyes rested on your face, heartily laughing until she released you were being totally serious.

scratching your arm, you let out a sigh. it would be better to ask her directly wouldn’t it “you don’t need to analyse me like that. i was just saying-”

you could charm her into agreeing, but in the long run you’d feel like a horrible person. charming a person came with moral problems, and you strictly told yourself that you would never do that to a person. ever.

“yizhuo… can we- can you do me a favour?” your stuttering caught her attention. you simply couldn’t bring yourself to ask, it’s strange out of the blue.

“mhm mhm, what do you need”

“you”

“me?”

“yes.” with every fibre of your being you held back a variety of different ways to scream out ‘JUST FUCK ME’ biting your lip to help fight back a blush. it’s odd to blurt out ‘im a succubus. let’s have crazy passionate intimate gay sex right here right now’

hold on- does she even know you’re a succubus? “listen, it’s going to sound absurd and you probably think i’m not sober, but can you hear me out” it was still weird to outwardly say that you were in fact this demon thing that sucks people dry, literally. saying it to jimin was no easy feat, but you were obviously losing your damn mind that day. and then you have the other two members too? now was not the time to think about what you’d do in the near future, you were hungry and yizhuo was right in front of you, practically naked “are you, by any chance, okay with maybe” your gaze darted around the room before you locked eyes with her “maybe having… sex? maybe?”

“ohhh, okay i see how it is. you’re ovulating” she spoke with a dead serious tone.

you were losing your mind. you couldn’t tell if she was fucking with you or not. but in all honesty, yizhuo did think you looked like you were ovulating with the way your thighs pressed together. yup, ovulating.

your heart began to race as you increasingly became desperate within seconds. you felt feverish, hot to the touch while your head throbbed. almost a whole two months without tending to your needs ended up with you succumbing to the symptoms “please yizhuo. i need you to do something, anything- i feel like i’m gonna die actually”

“woah woaah, let’s calm down. you’re not gonna die silly. is it just-“ yizhuo paused for a while, coughed and maybe even hesitated to say the word “sex. is that all? it can’t be too bad. plus if it’s with you, i don’t mind…” yizhuo’s words were genuine. it put your mind at ease.

“you don’t understand though. it’s like… it- i don’t know” you pout at her with the remaining energy left in your body “it’s alright- i’ll ask other people, it’ll be okay” sluggishly pushing yourself off yizhuo’s bed.

“no no, i get it. you wanna relieve stress, i get it” from what you could understand, yizhuo was trying her absolute best, trying to relate with your problem “we’ve all been there. the company doesn’t allow us to go out and meet other idols like that so it was eventually gonna happen. i mea-“

“it’s not about that, yizhuo” your eyes darken, a desperate sigh emitting from your lips “ah, whatever…” with trembling hands, you held yizhuo’s in yours, momentarily silencing her as you sit back down on top of the smooth sheets of her bed “if you’re not okay with doing ‘this’, then will a kiss be okay?” there was a hint of softness to your voice, the rest shrouded with seriousness “it won’t be enough for me, but it’ll keep me… sort of stable” you shut your eyes as you press your forehead against hers, sharing the warmth “please, that’s all i ask for”

she whispered “a kiss? i can do that. it seems fun.”ning, inches away from kissing you, smiled sheepishly. her gaze drifted briefly towards your lips before finally shutting her eyes “and if it’s with you i think i’ll be okay”

you took this as your opportunity to kiss her softly on the lips. a quick peck really. a surge of energy coursed through your veins for half a second before coming to a stop.

that’s all the energy you’ll take from her, and the most you’ll take for the next couple of days “mmm… thank you yizhuo” though it was a sweet couple of seconds before it broke off, the sweetness of her lips left a longing impression on you.

yizhuo asked for “one more kiss?” growing in confidence, she leaned into another, her eyes fluttering shut as she melted into your embrace. though you were unsure, you gave into the moment, savouring her delicate lips. her fingers tentatively reached for your shirt, grabbing you and pulling you in closer. as the kiss intensified, yizhuo’s hands journeyed down your back, directly pushing down so your chests were pressed together “do whatever you want…” her breath hitched as you trailed down kisses from her jaw down to her neck, taking the time and effort to not accidentally leave a huge hickey there. you replied by pushing her back onto the bed, the loose towel that wrapped around body fell apart easily, exposing yizhuo’s pretty tits. she paid no mind, letting you do whatever you pleased.

“god, you’re so pretty” you climbed onto the bed, straddling yizhuo’s waist as you carefully removed your t-shirt.

she burned holes through your face, why was she staring so hard all of a sudden? “how are your eyes are pink, y/n” taken aback, she sits up and examines your face. she raised her hand and waved it in front of you “is this thing real?” tilting her head in confusion.

“it is real- mmh?” a jolt shoots right up through your spine and then down to your core out of nowhere. ning held your sleek black tail, rubbing her fingers against the weird leathery texture, caressing and prodding at your poor flimsy, slightly erect(?) tail, as you let out a soft sigh. “yizhuo…” you mewl pathetically “that- that feels weird”

“does it now?” her tongue darted out, licking the centre of your heart shaped tail with the ever so subtle tug at the corner of her lips “sensitive much” a couple more licks and kisses to your tail and you were pretty much done for.

time to time you forget that you have some sort of libido increasing, aphrodisiac power. the kiss you two shared may have affected her. well it definitely did. the increase of confidence radiating from the older girl was way different in comparison to her usual self. cause by now you’d expect her to be a little more gentle with you.

flipping positions, yizhuo held you down with her two hands with a devilish look on her face “if it’s sex you want, then i’ll make sure to fuck you till your begging for me to stop” her hand travelled down your tail, stroking it as if she was stroking your dick. never before had someone do something like that to your tail, but my god did it feel so fucking good.

she toyed with it, prodded and poked the tip of it and sucked it with her pretty pink and plump lips. the other hand cupped your chest, fondling over your boobs to get a feel for her own satisfaction “i could get used to this…” being on top of you, she had the advantage to do whatever she desired, and also because you were too weak to move at all “what do you want y/n? want me to fuck you with my tongue or my fingers. you choose”

you chose the latter.

throwing your head back onto the fluffed up pillows, yizhuo waisted no time and went to her destination. not one, but two fingers pushed deep inside of your pussy, stretching you out so good. her lustfully hooded eyes looked down at you, absorbing in the expressions of your pleasure contorted face “how’s it feel? want me to add another for you baby?”

unable to answer her question with words, you nod eagerly, wanting nothing but her fingers to fill you up. so she did, adding in a third finger since you asked to cutely with that nod of yours. now knuckles deep inside, that same devilish grin spread across her face. you unconsciously buck your hips up, smiling wearily at yizhuo “so.. so deep” your moans urged her to immediately start moving. she started out nice and slow, curling her fingers at different intervals to squeeze out those lovely moans of yours. every thrust, she explored your spongy walls, testing out the waters to see which place hit the best for you. then as time went by, she gradually built up her pace until she came to her desired speed.

three fingered merciselessly pounded hard into your tight cunt, your juices leaking and dripping onto yizhuo’s bedsheets, and the sounds of your wetness leaving the chinese girl in awe. noticing the way your hips began to meet with her speed, her hand that played with your tail slowly slided towards them, holding you down by the stomach “let me do all the work” driven by your moans, she leans down to press a hungry kiss on your lips, then leaving a hot trail of kisses down from your neck and onto your perky nipples.

swirling around the hardened bud on your chest, a guttural moan catches her attention “you like it when i suck on your tits, huh?” her thumb pressed against your swollen clit as she muttered those words, all the while still paying attention to your sensitive tits. she enjoyed the way you tried to wriggle your hips in attempts to move them, and how your hands clutched the sheets with pure desperation. she felt hazy, maybe a little bit tipsy somehow, but all she wanted to do was fuck you until you were screaming her name.

as her fingers continued to slide against your walls, hitting the right spots at an intense speed, you felt a knot form in your stomach. you were so desperate for relief, needing to buck your hips into her palm to get that sweet friction you felt on your clit, but she didn’t allow you to do that; her hand still resting on your stomach to stop you from squirming “yi-yizhuo~” you whined, teary eyes staring at her with a pitiful look “please yizhuo.. r-rub my clit please~”

and who was she to deny you.

though she didn’t do exactly what you wanted, she did something way more better. moving away from your nipples, she lowered herself down onto the bottom of her bed to shove her face right between your thighs. tongue darting out her mouth, she gives a few kitten licks on your clit, savouring the sweet essence of your pussy for a starter. those tiny kitten licks turned into something much more. the tip of her tongue circled against your heat, occasionally wrapping her lips around to give you a quick suck before continuing to lap your soaked folds up to your sensitive clit.

the stimulation drove your crazy. you never knew that yizhuo was so skilled at this. still thrusting those three fingers inside of your now pulsating cunt, at the hot and wet kisses and licks she left on your clit, she knew - and you knew, that you were on the verge of toppling over the edge. but it wasn’t enough for her “is that good, hm? does my needy baby want me to fuck her harder?” yizhuo somehow had the strength to speed up, fucking your hole as she moans at how well you’re taking her.

those words vibrated from your core and sent shivers across your spine, leaving goosebumps all over your skin - in which also made you clench around her fingers.

fuck, it was way too damn good. you felt your legs shaking, jaw opening wide, stomach tightening and that course of hot pleasure travelling through your entire nervous system “close- close yizhuo.. don’t stop” your words came out slurred, a few unintelligible praises and swears being ripped out of the back of your throat as you felt yourself on the edge.

with one final deep and hard thrust, your jaw slacked open as your orgasm was pulled out from your body, legs twitching and spasming as you repetitively screamed out yizhuo’s name alongside even more praises. for a minute your body fell limp against the bed, exhausted from the mind blowing orgasm yizhuo gave you, and also from the built up stress you had from promotions.

now full of the sexual energy you gained from yizhuo, you spring upwards, patting yizhuo’s head gently “t-thank you… i feel refreshed…”

the older girl finally sat up after she cleaned you up. wiping her face and chin from the juices that dripped all the way down, she flashed you a smile “with that tail of yours, and those pink eyes, you’ve got to be a succubus… right? to answer her question, you nodded, cheeks red from her straightforwardness.

“y-yeah. you’re right… wanna go again?”

“only if i bottom next”

#wintersera #ning yizhuo smut #ningning smut #ningning x reader smut #ningning x fem reader smut #aespa smut #aespa x reader smut #kpop smut #kpop girl group smut

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adventures-in-mangaland · 2 months ago

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Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs Part 7

So I hear there's been some fandom drama? Guess it's time for another fic rec list! This fandom is so lovely, so let's focus on the positive and give all the love to our writers and artists. You guys are so talented. ♥️

Work It Harder, Make it Better by dear_monday, two_ravens

Olympics AU! And kind of Sk8er Boi? Charles is an Olympic skateboarder at the end of his competitive career and Edwin is a rising star in the world of dressage. They fall in love at Paris 2024. Amazing writing, as always, and I also enjoyed Niko and Crystal as members of the skateboarding and equestrian teams having their own Olympics Romance and Jenny as Charles' world-weary coach.

Twin Flame by Leandra

Another "He was a punk, he did ballet" romance! This time, everyone is alive and the boys meet when Charles watches Edwin perform at his little sister's ballet recital. The romance and Charles as a big brother are very sweet, which is great as this fic also covers some heavy themes. It's set in the 90s so there's discussion of homophobia, the AIDs crisis and Charles' canon child abuse. Suffice to say, his bisexual awakening is quite fraught. Recommended!

Love for Hire by lucrow

Edwin hires Charles to freak out his parents with his obnoxious fake boyfriend. What could possible haaappeeen? And yes, it's a ballet/punk romance too. 😅 Anyway, it's giving fantastic banter, lots of emotions and great use of trope! I also enjoyed Edwin's relationship with his mum in this fic, excellent parental feels.

so I try to talk refined by shadowquill17

Charles finds out about the Cat King taking on his appearance and (somehow) arrives at the conclusion that Edwin isn't attracted to him. Charles having body image as well as chronic self-esteem issues was interesting but kind of heartbreaking. Read it for Edwin's agonised attempts to verbalise his sexual attraction to Charles without exploding. That's love right there.

A Royal Pain(e) (series) by handwrittenhello

Royalty AU! I love a bodyguard romance from time to time and this one is lovely. Lots of yearning.

Turnabout's Fair Play by LikeMmmCookies

Edwin enlists Niko and Crystal to teach him how to flirt with Charles. It starts off cute and awkward and ends up Master Of All He Surveys, which is very Edwin.

I will love you (I really love you) by ghostinthelibrary

Charles has a feelings realization and tries to confess to Edwin. Repeatedly. From a cock-blocking enchanted statue to a Hellhound, it's farcical and fun. This fic has been living in my head rent free for months.

seasons of mists by laiqualaurelote

Edwin hires Charles to be the barista in his book shop's cafe. Two cosy AUs in one! And it even comes (appropriately) with its own reading list and fanart! Very cute, excellent autumnal vibes and a superb imaginary book shop. I'm genuinely so devastated it's not a real place. 😭

Ariadne's Thread by hobbitsdoitbetter

In which Edwin is demisexual and trying to make it work with Charles. Love to see some ace spectrum representation!

you know the problem with history (it keeps coming back like weeds) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Amnesia AU! And kind of Secret Relationship? Edwin has Not So Temporary Amnesia that made him forget a whole romantic relationship with Charles early in their partnership. And Charles never told him... Surely this will have no impact on the events of canon?? 😬 I loved this twist on the trope!

scraped to the marrow by Anonymous

Edwin learned black magic in Hell and kind of went to the Dark Side. I love the trope of "Everyone thinks Character avoids violence because they're scared/weak/nice/bad at it, but actually they're a bit too good at it" and this fic does it well. I love regular Edwin, but Lord Bone was also pretty cool.

To Walk Back Into Hell by Asidian

Charles goes to Hell in Edwin's place, so naturally Edwin needs to find a way to rescue him! Interesting Hell lore and I loved all the Charles love in this.

It does not stop by williamvapespeare

Now he's safe from Hell, Edwin finally works through his PTSD. Emotional, but peak Emotional Support Charles for the win!

signed, sealed, delivered by sulfuric

Outsider PoV of the boys and the agency through the years from the perspective of the Ghost Postman. He's kind of underrated as a side character, but there are so many Implications about the Dead Letter Office, so I enjoyed the worldbuilding. And the supernatural community of London gossiping about/shipping the boys (they're just like us, for real). Love that trope.

not so secret by lola_prongs

Social Media/Celebrity AU! In which they're both actors and Charles relentlessly thirsts after Edwin on Twitter. Great use of social media/epistolary storytelling.

Like a record, baby by singtome

Another celebrity/social media AU, but this time Charles and Crystal are budding rock stars and Edwin is their manager. Also Edwin goes viral as the mysterious #HotGuyatUnity after his picture's taken at an event and Charles *tries* to set the record straight. This one's funny, generous with the yearning and UST and is part of a series that also touches on the darker side of the music industry/celebrity, which I appreciated. And it also has this excellent visual representation of the online drama.

@ghostinthelibrarywrites @tumblerislovetumblerislife @shadowquill17 @neurodivergent-fangirling @whatthehorsedoicallthisblog @shazziez @many-gay-magpies @extremely-eager-reader @atariakana @guardianspirits13 @colourmornings @herebehunters @avoiceofnerat @littlepocketuniverse @overlord-of-chaos @fairandfatalasfair @handwrittenhello @every-moment-a-different-sound @williamvapespeare @laiqualaurelote @dear-monday @dear-lucrow @aletterinthenameofsanity @likemmmcookies @bibliomancer7 @c-rowland @nobledragonflying @hobbitsdoitbetter

I've tagged some people again. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 9 months ago

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Aftermath

Summary: The aftermath of your arrival in Jackson and running back into Joel brings back emotions you thought you had moved on from.

Pairing: past Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3k

Rating: G

Warnings: angst, POV switch, bad break-up, talks about child birth, one steamy thought, flashbacks, Tommy being the protective bro, a surprise about the real relationship status of Joel and reader, Ellie being a dick (affectionate), Joel still being a mess and bad at feelings, but he's trying

A/N: still not exactly sure where I am going with this. Let me know what you think

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

part two of invisible string

You didn’t think seeing him again after so many years, and after so much had happened would feel like this.

Like finally being able to take a full breath after being under water for too long.

You thought you’d be over it by now. Over him.

It had been almost six years after all.

Yet it felt like it had been yesterday when you took one last look at him early in the morning with your little possessions packed and him passed out on the bed after another night of him drinking himself to sleep.

But the moment you caught his wide eyes across the room now, it was 2010 all over again and you were the girl across the street who had dropped all the rations you had just picked up because some rude asshole walking into you, finding Joel looking at you with a hint of a smirk after you cursed the person out who had ran into you.

Before you could realise it you had sat Ana down on the bench next to your brother who still had little Leo in his lap and were walking towards him, ignoring your brother calling after you.

Joel looked at you like he’d seen a ghost.

Deep in the night, when you were alone and your little family was asleep you imagined what it would be like if you’d ever meet Joel again.

He had not only broken your heart that night you told him you were pregnant.

He had broken a part of you that you hadn’t been able to repair.

You tried to hate him, god did you try.

You cursed him on your whole absolute suicidal journey back to your hometown close to Denver, your mind set on finding your brother who you had occasional contact to, since he was living in a community on the an military base, close to the Denver QZ.

You cursed Joel when you gave birth in the safety of an actual working hospital while your brother held your hand, wishing so much it was Joel who was supporting you through the birth of your child.

You cursed him when you were surprised by not only one but two babies who you were now responsible for.

You cursed and cursed and cursed him while you just could not stop loving him no matter how much you tried.

Because you knew the man behind the version he had turned into in the months leading up to your break up.

The man who was lashing out at you for things out of your control. The man who stayed away longer and longer until he didn’t come back home to your shared apartment at night. The man who never ever told you he loved you with his own words.

Not when you were awake, but you did not know that he whispered his I love you’s every night against your forehead before he fell asleep.

But he also was the man who always kept you in his arms when you were scared of a storm howling outside. The man who always kept one of his shirts out for you because he knew how much you loved to wear them. The man who had you on the verge of tears from the way he knew how to play your body night after night while he praised you what a good girl you were for him.

He was the father of your children.

And you loved him.

You still loved him.

You just weren’t sure if you could ever forgive him and trust him again.

And just couldn’t stay with him back then while was busy destroying himself. Because it wasn’t just you anymore you had to take care of but the children growing inside of you.

And so you left. All the way to Colorado, the Denver QZ and then to find you brother, finally finding him when you were almost eight months pregnant. And now you were in Jackson, Wyoming.

The community you had spend the last years in having been overrun by a huge group of infected and your brother knowing about Jackson from the trading routes he went on regularly.

You never thought you would see Joel ever again. Not that far away from Boston.

And now he was here. And he was looking at you. And you were trying to decide if you would kill or kiss him when you saw him bend over, Tommy looking concerned and a girl not older than fifteen running across the room towards him.

„Joel?“ You whispered, your hand reaching out as if to touch him, but you decided against it, rubbing your sweaty palm against the fabric of the new jeans you had been gifted this morning.

He blinked his eyes up at you in shock.

„You’re here,“ he gasped and then he fell into the arms of his brother, who caught him before he could hit his head. Unconscious.

„Fuck,“ Tommy groaned, trying to pull his brother up in his arms, the girl next to you pushing you away to help him.

„Is he dead? Tommy? He can’t be dead. I am not ready being mad at him yet,“ she shook her head while helping Tommy slowly put him on the ground, people gathering around you now.

„He’s not dead, Ellie. He’s just….“ Tommy looked up at you for a moment before he looked at the girl, Ellie, again.

„He’s just overwhelmed and had a panic attack. Can you please get Doc so we can get him to the clinic? Just to be sure?“ Tommy asked and you could feel how hesitant the girl was to leave him.

Who was she?

„Fine,“ she mumbled and got back up, but not before looking at you with narrowed eyes.

„This is your fault,“ she hissed and you were taken aback as she walked towards you, intimidating you. You heard Tommy call her name, but she didn’t stop and you stumbled back, unsure and if you were honest with yourself a little scared at the look the girl was giving you.

You didn’t get far before you walked into someone, feeling a hand on your shoulder and you looked up to find your brother behind you.

„Ellie!“ Tommy had now gotten up to walk in front of her.

„Who is she? What did she do to Joel?“ Ellie asked him, her eyes still on you.

Tommy sighed.

„She’s Joel’s wife.“

The ring Joel had put on your ring finger during a winter storm in December of 2012 didn’t sit on your finger anymore.

You had to take it off somewhere between the fifth and sixth month of your pregnancy, your fingers swelling. It had made its way to the chain around your neck where you kept it since that day next to the heart your mother had gifted to you when you were seven years old.

The only thing you had left from her.

It was a habit of yours to play with the ring as soon as you got anxious since then.

You were in the clinic now, not sure what you were doing here.

After Joel had been brought to the clinic last night Tommy thought it was for the best that you stayed back while you weren’t even sure if you wanted to go and see him.

So you had taken your kids home where your brother helped tuck them in before he disappeared into his own room, but only after kissing your forehead and telling you that everything was gonna be okay and that if you wanted to talk he would be there.

He knew everything about you and Joel.

And you were pretty sure at some point he would tell Joel exactly what he thought about his behaviour that led to you practically fleeing from him while being pregnant.

But that would wait.

First you had to figure out what to do.

Part of you wanted to hide from the world.

But you had two very excited kids who wanted to go to school this morning. Kids that thankfully did not witness anything that happened the night before thanks to your brother and their future teacher who had helped settle you in.

You were pretty sure your brother had a crush on her.

So now, after you brought your kids to school and spend two hours telling yourself that you could leave them there, that they were safe, you had Maria walk you towards the clinic where apparently Joel was still resting.

Tommy and the girl you had seen yesterday, Ellie, were waiting in front of a closed door when you walked in and they both looked up at you when you entered.

Tommy gave you a tired smile before he kissed his wife’s cheek as she walked over to him.

„How is he?“ Maria asked.

„Worst patient ever. He’s getting released this morning,“ Tommy said and you nodded, still uncertain if you should stay or leave, your fingers finding the ring resting on the chain over your heart, playing with it.

„I should leave before he gets out,“ Ellie said.

„Ellie, please. I’m sure he wants to talk to you,“ Tommy said and Ellie rolled her eyes.

„Should have thought about that before he did what he did,“ she grunted, looking up at you. You got the impression that there was some kind of a story between her behaviour towards Joel. Not that you were interested in finding out more about it.

Because you were not family.

Not anymore.

You weren’t sure what you and Joel were anymore if you were anything at all. Not for a long time.

„Guess now that he has her back, he won’t need me anymore anyway,“ she said as she walked past you and out of the clinic.

Tommy rubbed his fingers over his forehead in frustration.

„Really looking forward to Sammy becoming a Teenager one day,“ Tommy groaned and Maria smiled softly, pulling her arm around Tommy’s waist.

You had met little Sammy yesterday as Tommy introduced you to his little family.

„Thankfully we have almost ten years to prepare for that,“ Maria said and he nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at her before he looked at you again.

„He wants to talk to you,“ Tommy said and you sucked your bottom lip in.

„And I would feel better if it happens here where a doctor is close by after last night,“ he said jokingly but you could hear some truth behind it.

You took a deep breath, your fingers still playing with the ring on the chain.

You should go. Maybe you should leave Jackson and find somewhere else, which you knew you wouldn’t. From what you had seen since getting here, the community was close to perfect, but you just didn’t know how you would be able to live somewhere with Joel close by.

Did he still hate you?

Would he want to meet your children?

No. No he wouldn’t. If he would have wanted to be in the life of your kids, he would not have reacted the way he did back then and then ignored you for a full week after until you decided to leave.

You were about to tell Tommy that you couldn’t face him when the door behind him opened and Joel stepped out with a younger woman who had to be the doctor, who instructed Joel sternly to take it easy for a couple of days.

He whispered your name as he looked at you and you released a shaky breath.

There suddenly was a tension in the air as you both looked at each other.

„Can we… Can we talk?“ Joel asked.

You only nodded, seeing him breath out in relief before he stepped back into the room. You looked at Tommy who gave you an encouraging smile, before you followed Joel into the room and closed the door behind you.

The first thing Joel noticed when his eyes blinked open was that there was a crack in the ceiling of the room he was laying in that he should take a look at. He groaned, stretching his tired muscles turning his head around to find his brother sitting on a chair next to the bed he was laying in, his eyes on him.

Was he at the… clinic?

Did he get hurt?

He was about to check his own body for injuries when the memories came floating back.

You.

With a girl in your lap.

A man next to you.

With a boy in his lap.

He sucked air in and Tommy’s hand came to rest on his arm.

„Easy, brother,“ he said and Joel fixed his eyes on his brother, mirroring the way he was breathing slowly, calming himself down.

„She’s really here?“ Joel asked and Tommy nodded.

"Arrived an hour after you went on patrol two days ago. With her two kids and brother,“ Tommy stressed the last word and Joel closed his eyes.

„Brother,“ he repeated.

„Jep. You know you never really told me why she left,“ he began, before he pressed his lips into a line, slowly shaking his head and as Joel opened his eyes to look at his brother he wondered when Tommy had gotten the same look down that their Dad had when he was disappointed in his children.

„Can’t fuck with the Miller genes. Leo looks like you when you were a boy,“ Tommy said.

Leo.

The boy’s name was Leo.

His son’s name was…. No. He didn’t deserve that title. Not after….

„Did you know that she was pregnant?“ Tommy asked.

Joel audibly breathed out.

„Yeah. Yeah I did,“ he confessed, looking everywhere but at his brother, shame settling deeply in his gut.

„Fuck,“ Tommy shook his head.

„I fucked up. There’s no excuse. I lashed out and fucked it all up. I fucked up the only good thing…“ he stopped, feeling the tears in his eyes.

They were silent for a while, until there was a knock on the door and the doctor walked in, asking if he was ready to get out of here, which Joel confirmed with a sigh.

She asked Tommy to leave so she could check Joel over.

He watched Tommy get up, walking out of the room. But just before he exited he turned around, his eyes fixed on his brother.

„Maria is bringing her over in a bit. I recon you wanna talk to her?“ Tommy asked and Joel nodded.

„Don’t be an asshole again. Or you gonna have a problem with me,“ he nodded at Joel and he nodded back.

You hadn’t been in a room alone with Joel in almost six years.

You didn’t know how to be alone with him anymore.

There was a part that wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and tell him how much you missed him, but there was the bigger part of you that wanted nothing more than to run out of the room and hide from him.

It was like some weird kind of PTSD that now connected being in a room alone with Joel with getting your heart broken, leaving every cell in your body bracing for heartbreak.

„I can’t believe you’re here,“ he said as he leaned against the wall across from you, his hands behind his back, making himself small.

You stayed at the door, needing a quick way to get out of here if you needed to.

He looked older. Tired. His hair almost as long as Tommy’s, now more salt than pepper in it. And there still was that perfect patch in his beard that grew no hair. A spot you had kissed more often than you could count in the past.

You found him looking at you as you tried to form words.

„I didn’t know you would be here. I didn’t think I would ever see you again,“ you said, voice quiet and he nodded.

„Don’t think it’s a happy occasion for you, huh?“ He sighed, before he cursed under his breath.

Before you could say something he continued.

„That day…. The day you told me you were pregnant…. The way I reacted… Sorry isn’t enough of a word. I’d go on my knees to beg you for forgiveness, but I don’t deserve it. I never deserved you,“ he whispered the last sentence and you closed your eyes, fighting down the tears.

„Joel, do you think I would have married you, if I thought you did not deserve me? I loved you. You. With all your flaws. I never understood why you thought you had to prove yourself worthy of me. I just wanted you to love me,“ you said softly.

„I did love you. I still do… I just….“ He stopped, seemingly searching for what to say next while you looked at him with big eyes.

„You love me?“ You asked, perplexed.

He looked at you like you grew a second head.

„Of course I do,“ he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sucking your bottom lip in, you looked at him while your fingers went back to the ring that rested on the chain around your neck, seeing Joel’s eyes follow your hand, recognising what you held in your hand.

„You never told me before,“ you whispered, the room suddenly feeling to small.

„I know,“ he said, voice breaking as a tear slipped down his cheek.

You looked away from him, your eyes landing on the clock hanging on the wall, eyes widening.

„I… I have to go. I have to pick up…. I have to pick up the twins….“ You mumbled already turning around, your hand on the door handle.

„Twins?“ You heard him ask behind you and you nodded without turning around.

„What are their names?“ He asked softly and your shoulders fell as you took a deep breath.

„Leo and Ana Miller. After my dad and your mom,“ you whispered before you opened the door and walked out.

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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volturissideslut · 1 year ago

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Hi! Just read your Marcus x reader fic where they get compared to Didyme.

I was thinking maybe a Poly! Volturi comparing Reader to their ex/late partners and Reader shuts down. They don't mention it, but it really hurts cause they've always been a replacement, so they leave Volterra. The Volturi don't realise for a while.

Feel free to ignore this if it's too repetitive or you've done one like it before.

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖞)

Angst, no comfort. Pure angst, literally no fluff at ALL. Bad relationship, couple of swear words in there, let me know if you want a part two of making it up <3

Part 2

It's not like you were the second choice

They had been adament that they wanted you, that you were their true mate

So why were they acting like this now?

After almost a year of being together, they were starting to fall out of the 'honeymoon phase'

Had it always just been a phase? Was this doomed from the get-go?

It started with little snippy comments about acting proper. You were human, not raised in the fine luxury and manners they were, and apparently that showed in your actions. And apparently the way you dress too.

It's like they were moulding you into their exes, it it was making you miserable

And it's not like you didn't try to tell them, you did. Only to be shut down. "Cara mia, I'm working. This is not an appropriate place to discuss this" Aro told you, despite being within the privacy of his study

Caius was no better, in no mood to 'entertain you' and your 'whims' as he put it, brushing you off with a sigh

Marcus, too, was no use, disregarding the emotion and making it perhaps worse by saying that didyme would have taken of the constructive criticism

So there you stood, looking at yourself in the mirror. The big dress, the light makeup, the haircut, even the fucking posture just want you.

And so you left.

Silently, seeing as communicating clearly wasn't an option

How long had it been when they realised you were gone? Three days at least

Honestly, Aro had assumed you were annoyed with them and wanted space, telling his brothers suck. It had never crossed his mind that you had left

I mean, the clothes you wore every day were still there, all the gowns and dresses still in place and -

Where were the clothes you brought with you?

The ones they insisted you wouldn't wear?

Caius walkers into your personal room with a huff, intending to talk some sense into this tantrum you've been throwing, and instead intruding on Aro's realisation

The grounds are searched and Marcus is informed

It is pure and utter panic

Chaos as they look for you

Demetri was called back from his mission early to search for you and you were in another country

Marcus was practically having heart palpitations, he can't lose another mate. "Why would she do this, Didyme would never scare me like this"

And he pauses

So does Aro

And so does Caius

And for the first time, they truly hear themselves

Caius is the first one to remember you bringing it up. "Did she talk to you about it too..." the proud kings' voice is for once delicate and quiet

"... I made her leave" Aro practically folds in half, having to grip over where his hear would be in his chest and lean over because of the burning sensation. It aches, it physically aches him to know he messed up this badly - he didn't give you the time of day

"... I told her I don't have time for this" Caius' fist is buried in his hair, gripping in stress and nearly ripping the strands out of his head. His hands are jittery, shaking, and his hair is tussled - a perfect relection of his inner turmoil

"... In the very moment she asked me not to compare her to Didyme anymore, I told her Didyme would take the criticism" is it possible for vampires to be sick? Because I think Marcus is about to be. His eyes sting and he makes a gagged choking noise like he's dry heaving. Like his fight or flight has chosen freeze and the rising anxiety makes his stomach churn

A knock on the door is what pulls them away

Instead of coming to the turbulent kings and taking them with him, it seems Demetri picked you up on his way back instead and brought you right to them.

There are bags under your eyes, and your skin is sickly. Your cheeks are stained with dried up tears and your eyes are bloodshot like you cried so hard you broke a vessel

They rush toward you and Demetri takes that as his cue to leave

Marcus ever so gently holds your face, eyes scanning you for any physical harm, and when he finds none he feels so much temporary relief he almost collapses into himself. "Thank goodness you're okay, I couldn't bare to lose you-"

"what, like you did Didyme?" you spit back with more venom in your voice than their combined fangs have ever produced in their millennias of life

"No, no" Caius' voice has never been so gentle, he takes your hand in his and places a kiss to the inside of your wrist

"Oh, so I'm gone for three days and suddenly it's about me and not your exes?" there is spite in your voice, but it still wavers with how upset you are

Exclaiming "three days?!" was a big mistake on Aro's part, but in that moment he was so full of concern he hadn't realised it would only worsen the situation

"... You didn't know?" and the look on your face is absolutely heart shattering

And they have no words, nothing to say. Because there is no words, and there are no excuses.

"I was gone for three days, and you didn't care enough to notice?!?" your angry now. And you have every right to be. But they have no idea how to fix what they've done

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rosemariiaa · 4 months ago

Text

~Lasts Firsts~

˖˙ �� ── pairing: Paige x Azzi

˖˙ ᰋ ── rosies note: yes i did lose my mind writing this but i had to! this is also my apology for the last fic.. 🤗 this is pretty long so take your time babe, also some tags @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @bueckerscore @juspeaks

˖˙ ᰋ ── themes: fluff, teasing

enjoy!!!

It was barely 8:00 AM when Paige rolled over, her arm draping across the empty space next to her. She blinked into the early morning light, trying to shake off the sleep. She could already hear Azzi in the bathroom, humming softly, the sound so familiar it brought a small smile to her lips.

Last media day together.

The thought lingered like a weight on her chest, bittersweet and heavy. She dragged herself out of bed, feeling that familiar ache in her muscles from practice the day before, and made her way to the bathroom.

Azzi was standing in front of the mirror, twisting one of her curls between her fingers. Paige leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of her girlfriend’s morning routine—how peaceful she looked, even though they both knew today was going to be pretty emotional.

“Ready for the chaos?” Paige mumbled, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Azzi turned her head, giving Paige that small smile she always had when she knew Paige was nervous about something. “You asking me or yourself?”

Paige snorted, stepping closer until she was leaning against the counter beside Azzi. “Both, I guess.”

They didn’t say much after that, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Paige stared at her reflection for a moment, the weight of everything finally sinking in. Last media day, last season. After this? The WNBA.

“You think we’ll survive?” Paige asked quietly, her tone light but not really joking. Azzi met her eyes in the mirror, and for a second, Paige saw all the emotions they hadn’t really said out loud. There was excitement, sure, but underneath it was that uncertainty, the looming unknown of what came next.

“Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softer than usual. “You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna be fine. You’ve been ready for this.”

Paige didn’t respond at first, just dropped her gaze to the sink. She’d been thinking about this a lot more than she’d let on. The WNBA wasn’t just another level—it was the next chapter of her life. And as much as she knew she wanted it, there was a part of her that was terrified.

“What if I’m not, though?” Paige’s voice came out quieter than she meant. “What if I mess this up? I mean… WNBA? That’s a whole new ballgame.”

Azzi turned around fully now, leaning her hip against the counter. She reached out, gently grabbing Paige’s wrist, thumb brushing over her skin in that way that always calmed her down.

“You’ve been playing against pros for years, P. You’re gonna go in there and do exactly what you do best. And… don’t forget you’ll be up against Diana, you’re probably gonna block her shots and then she’ll talk all kinds of shit you know how she gets,” Azzi teased, trying to pull Paige out of her thoughts.

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension in her chest easing just a little. “I can’t wait for Diana to “hate” me.” Azzi smirked. “Just don’t embarrass her too much.”

“Oh, I will. But not before embarrassing your Aces,” Paige shot back, her grin widening as Azzi’s eyes narrowed in mock warning.

“Excuse me?” Azzi gasped dramatically. “You better not mess with my team. If you even think about beating them, I’ll fly out there and beat you up.”

Paige laughed, leaning into Azzi, her forehead resting against hers. “You’re cute when you threaten me.”

“Not a threat, babe,” Azzi replied, her smile softening as she tilted her head just slightly, brushing her nose against Paige’s. “I’m dead serious. Leave the Aces alone.”

Paige wrapped her arms loosely around Azzi’s waist, finally letting herself breathe. For a second, she could forget about the future. It was just the two of them again, standing in their shared apartment, holding on to each other before the world outside came rushing in.

———-

By the time they arrived in the gym, the chaos was already in full swing, with half the girls making tiktok’s and going crazy per usual. The cameras, the bright lights, the reporters—it was all routine by now, but this time, everything felt heightened. It was their last one. The final first.

Paige watched as Azzi stepped in front of the camera, her expression automatically settling into her “game face,” the serious one she always had before interviews. Paige stood to the side, arms crossed, watching with amusement.

“You look like you’re about to kill somebody,” she muttered under her breath as she moved to stand beside Azzi for their photos. Azzi shot her a look. “I’m just focused.”

“Focused on terrifying everyone,” Paige teased, nudging her with her shoulder.

Azzi tried not to smile, but it broke through anyway, and Paige could feel the tension between them melt a little as they fell into the easy rhythm of their chemistry. They took their usual photos, Paige throwing her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, and their traditional piggyback pose, the same way they’ve done a thousand times before. But this time, the air between them felt different—heavier, full of all the memories they shared.

After the cameras stopped flashing, they hung back for a bit, watching the rest of the team get their moments in front of the lens.

“This feels… weird, right?” Paige said, her voice a little quieter now.

Azzi just nodded. “Yeah. But… it’s also kinda nice, knowing we did this together.”

Paige looked at her, her chest tightening with that familiar feeling of bittersweetness. “You’re gonna make me cry.” Azzi gave her a teasing smirk. “That’s my plan.”

———-

The media day madness finally wrapped up, and before Azzi could even think about unwinding, Paige had dragged her back home with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“What are you planning, Bueckers?” Azzi asked, standing in the doorway of their apartment, her arms crossed. “You’ll see. Just get dressed,” Paige said with a grin, shooing her toward the bedroom.

Azzi rolled her eyes but went along with it, emerging a few minutes later in the white tube top with Paige’s pink cover-up and those low-waisted jeans that Paige always went quiet about. She gave a little twirl, watching Paige’s eyes darken slightly.

“Stole my clothes again, huh?” Paige asked, leaning against the wall, trying to look unfazed.

Azzi smirked. “You love it.”

Paige just shook her head. “Get in the car, weirdo.”

They spent the car ride to the restaurant in comfortable silence, the only sound being Paige’s playlist—songs she’d carefully picked over the years, ones that always made her think of Azzi. At some point, Mitski came on, and Azzi hummed softly to the tune, stealing glances at Paige, who was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

“So, P,” Azzi started casually, “how nervous are you to play against Diana?”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not nervous are ut playing against Diana. I’m nervous about her kicking my ass after I block her.” Azzi laughed, the sound light and warm. “She probably will. I’ll be sitting courtside, watching her destroy you.”

“Thanks for the support babe,” Paige muttered, but she was smiling. Azzi always knew how to pull her out of her head when she got too wrapped up in her own thoughts.

“And just remember,” Azzi said, her tone a little more serious but still playful, “if you mess with the Aces, I will find you madison.”

Paige threw her a sideways glance. “Oh, I know. You won’t have to find me—I’ll be waiting for you.”

Azzi grinned. “You better be.”

———-

When they got to the restaurant, Paige made sure they sat in a booth—one where she could sit across from Azzi and just look at her. It wasn’t the most subtle thing in the world, but Paige didn’t care. Azzi caught on, of course, giving her a raised eyebrow.

“What? I just like looking at you,” Paige said with a shrug, grinning like she hadn’t just been caught.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous.”

They were mid-conversation when the waiter came over, a girl with a bright smile who seemed way too interested in Azzi. Paige noticed immediately, her smile dropping slightly as the woman complimented Azzi’s hair, her outfit, even her smile. Azzi, as usual, was completely oblivious.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, flashing the girl a casual smile, but Paige could see what was going on, and it annoyed her just enough to act on it.

Without a second thought, Paige reached across the table, placing her hand firmly over Azzi’s. The waiter glanced down, her smile faltering as she realized the situation, quickly taking their order and backing off with a stiff nod.

Azzi blinked, glancing down at their hands before looking back up at Paige with an amused expression. “Was that jealousy?” Paige scoffed. “No, that was me stopping her from embarrassing herself.”

Azzi grinned, squeezing Paige’s hand. “Uh-huh. Sure, Paige.”

After dinner, the laughter between them hadn’t stopped. Even as they waved goodbye to their server, still teasing each other about that moment of jealousy, the warmth between them stayed, making the whole night feel like a dream.

Azzi didn’t even bother pulling out her card when the check arrived. The second she started reaching for her wallet, Paige shot her a look, the kind of look that said, don’t even think about it. Azzi had seen that look so many times before and just grinned, leaning back in her seat as Paige effortlessly snatched the check, sliding her own card inside before Azzi even got a chance to protest.

“Every time?” Azzi asked, her tone half-amused, half-resigned.

Paige just shrugged, a cocky smile on her lips. “I like spoiling you. What can I say?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the truth was she loved it too. It was a Paige thing—doing little things like this without asking, always showing she cared in her own way.

After they walked out of the restaurant, Paige naturally slipped her arm around Azzi’s waist like she always did. It wasn’t even a conscious move anymore; it was just how Paige was. Her hand rested comfortably against Azzi’s side, pulling her a little closer as they walked down the quiet street. Azzi leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth from Paige’s body and the comfort that always came with being this close.

Paige’s grip was gentle but firm, protective in a way that Azzi had always loved. It was something Paige did, even when she didn’t realize it—holding her close, like she was making sure Azzi knew she was always there, no matter what. It made Azzi smile, thinking about how many times Paige had held her like this over the years, whether after a tough game, during quiet moments between them, or just walking down the street like this.

They kept walking, laughing softly, the cool night air brushing against their faces, but neither of them seemed to notice. Everything felt easy between them, and Paige, in her usual way, kept the conversation light. Azzi could tell Paige was doing it on purpose, making her laugh to keep them from thinking too much about all the changes on the horizon.

They were about halfway to the car when Azzi suddenly slowed her pace, and Paige’s arm tightened slightly around her waist, glancing over with a curious look.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her voice casual but her gaze full of affection.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She stopped, turning toward Paige and stepping in closer. Paige’s arm never left her waist, holding her in place like she always did, her body warm against Azzi’s side. Azzi stared at Paige for a long moment, just taking her in—the messy hair, the soft smile, the way she was always so present, so hers.

“I love you,” Azzi said suddenly, her voice soft but full of all the emotion she had been holding in. It wasn’t planned—it just came out, like it had been sitting on her chest, waiting for the right moment.

Paige blinked, a smile tugging at her lips as her eyes softened. Her hand on Azzi’s waist tightened slightly, pulling her just a bit closer. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice gentle, almost like she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to hear those words.

They both stood there for a second, letting the words hang between them. Then, without thinking, Azzi reached up and cupped Paige’s face, pulling her in for a kiss. Paige didn’t hesitate, meeting her halfway, her lips soft and warm as they kissed in the middle of the street, the world around them fading away.

Paige’s arm stayed wrapped securely around Azzi’s waist as their kiss deepened, and it felt like everything else just melted away. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was slow and full of love, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

Azzi could feel Paige’s heartbeat against her own, steady and strong, and she knew, in that moment, that no matter what happened, no matter how far apart they might be in the future, they’d always have this. They’d always have each other.

When they finally pulled back, Paige’s forehead rested against Azzi’s, their breaths mixing in the cool night air. Paige smiled, her hand gently caressing Azzi’s side. “You’re stuck with me, you know that?” she whispered, her voice teasing but full of love.

Azzi grinned, her thumb tracing along Paige’s cheek. “Forever.”

———-

yeaa…that was a lot and so darn cute 🥹

#pazzi #rosie fics #paige x azzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #rosie moots #rosie’s works 🎧⋆｡ °⋆

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