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heesdreamer · 1 year ago

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Forgotten Consequences

PAIRING ➩ jake x reader (bsfs little brother au)

SUMMARY ➩ Your bestfriends little brother comes back from Australia and catches your attention despite knowing the consequences

WARNINGS ➩ ages aren’t specified but reader is a few years older than Jake and considers him “barely an adult”, RLLY ROUGH SM*T, like no joke it’s rough be warned, consent is there even though reader says no (she def wants it!), d*ddy is used sorry lol… this is straight up p*rn so there’s your warning. Jake is rough and borders obsessive

WC ➩ 5.7k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Not exactly pleased my return to the writing world is basically PWP lol but here it is… there’s a larger story here I’m considering writing so lmk if you’re interested. Sorry to keep you guys missing me, take this as an apology piece

“Your brother is a lot taller than I remember him being Chaeyoung.”

You briefly glanced over to the side once you heard Lily’s voice start to whisper, seeing her leaning into the other girls side as she tried to be as discreet as possible.

Both of them were staring out at something in the yard and you followed their gaze until you landed on Jake standing in the corner, picking up something off of the snack table and looking as bored as you felt at this ridiculous party.

“If you hook up with my little brother I’ll actually kill you.” Chaeyoung’s voice was flat and deadly serious but her face didn’t show any actual signs of caring about the conversation, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink before looking away and letting Lily lay on her shoulder.

Your eyebrow raised slightly at the interaction before your gaze was floating back over to the boy instinctively.

He hadn’t been home from the dance school in Australia long and this was only your second time seeing him since. You’d grown up together but you’d never paid him much mind outside of when Chaeyoung gave him funny makeovers and made him dance to girl group songs with you and your friends. Other than that he wasn’t necessarily somebody on your radar.

It was impossible to not notice the difference in him now.

Mainly the fact he was almost double the size he had been when he left, clearly hitting puberty now and apparently the gym considering how large his shoulders looked underneath the washed out black hoodie he was wearing.

He’d obviously gotten a new sense of style in his time away too and it was one that you were almost annoyingly attracted to. His hair was longer and stuck in his face most the time, earbuds peaking out from behind the dark strands whenever he pushed it back with his large hand and you could’ve sworn you’d posted the shoes he was currently wearing on your Instagram story a few months ago.

You watched him as he started to make his way back inside, completely ignoring the party going on around him and not even sparing a glance at the people in his backyard and living room.

When he was younger, he always wanted to be involved, especially when it had to do with Chaeyoung and your friends. You remember seeing her send him back up to his room dozens of times when he tried to hang out with you guys, always greeting you and the others enthusiastically.

A frown was forming on your face at his indifferent attitude before you were glancing back at your friends, glad to see they were lost in their own conversation and not noticing the way your eyes had been locked on your bestfriends little brother for the better part of the last ten minutes.

They were so distracted that they also didn’t notice the way you were scooting off of the outdoor bench, adjusting your skirt and balancing yourself slightly before you were heading inside and following the path you’d seen the younger boy taking. You were a bit thrown off when you entered the house again, the atmosphere a lot more intense and dizzying than the outside partygoers had been.

But you knew Jake wouldn’t have stuck around this type of environment long so you pushed your way through the crowd and continued on your way upstairs to where you knew he’d be, raising your fist and knocking on his door before you thought twice about it.

You froze up slightly at the speed in which he swung open his bedroom door, a heavy glare set on his face and you could hear music coming from deeper in the room, having seemingly abandoned his headphones. His eyes widened for just a second when he realized it was you in the hallway before he was forcing on an expression of indifference.

“Y/N? Whats up?” He was asking but his tone was lazy like he didn’t care, luckily you knew better and could clearly read the curiosity in his eyes.

You ignored his question and pushed into the room, taking a deep breath once inside before turning towards him with a raised eyebrow. He was sighing and closing the door behind you, leaning against it for a second once he realized what your expression was directed towards.

“You smoke?” You were finally speaking and he tensed at the sound of your voice, looking way more intimidating with the way he was lazily leaned against his door and accidentally trapping you inside the room. You took a seat on his bed and watched him curiously, waiting for an answer.

You didn’t necessarily need one considering you were now noticing how lazy his eyes were, gaze low and hazy as he stared at you sitting on his bed and the corner of his lips turned up into a half smirk at your stern voice and scolding demeanor.

“You gonna tell on me Y/N?” His tone was teasing now and you kept watching him as he pushed off the door, crossing the room until he was flopping back into his bed.

Luckily he kept some distance between the two of you, sitting up so his back was propped up on his headboard and his knee was pointed towards the ceiling. You were still sitting on the edge of his bed but you turned your body so you could face him better, adjusting your skirt with the movement. You took one final glance towards the door, eyes falling down to the turned lock on the knob.

“I’m sure I could be convinced to not tell.” You were responding to him slowly, keeping your voice light so he knew you weren’t serious. His eyes darkened a touch but you continued on with your light teasing. “Maybe if you were open to sharing.”

You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up in Jake Sim’s bedroom smoking weed with him, sitting fully on his bed now with your legs crossed underneath you and grazing fingers every time he passed the bowl over in your direction.

You kept picturing Chaeyoung walking into the room, seeing the way you were looking at him every time he was breathing smoke outwards into the air. You wondered if she’d care, wondered if she’d realize where your mind had gone and then you’d shift on the bed and feel the tension in the room and know there was no way she wouldn’t suffocate in it.

He was watching you now in a way that you knew was past the line of friendly, miles past the line of being your bestfriends younger brother, and for the first time since entering his room you got nervous. So nervous that you inhaled wrong and the smoke traveled to a tighter part of your chest, sending you lurching forward in a rough cough as you patted your torso a couple times to try and clear your airways.

Jake was chuckling at your amateurish smoking skills and you sent him a glare as another cough ripped through you, moving your hand to send a soft punch towards his knee for his teasing.

“Wanna know a better way to get the smoke down?” His voice was low, lower than it already was and you remember being frozen the first time you heard him speak when he originally got back, deep and silky as he muttered a halfhearted greeting in your direction.

You gave him a curious look even though you already had an idea of where this was heading, wondering how far he was planning to take this. You only responded with a soft nod now that your coughs had died down and left your throat with a burning sensation, worsening when a gasp ripped through you at the feeling of him wrapping his hands underneath your knees and tugging you closer on the bed.

He moved you completely effortlessly and your eyes were wide and panicked, still sitting with your legs crossed but now you were directly in front of him and your knees were bumping into one of his, his other leg stretch out along your side and effectively forming a cage around you.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Your warning was coming out far less stern than you’d hoped it would, voice weak and almost teasing again despite how serious you were.

His eyebrow cocked at this and you immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say considering the challenging glint forming in his eye now. He was swaying forward so his face was close to yours, way too close considering you felt his nose graze you for just a second before he was pulling back so he could stare down at your tense features.

“Keep your mouth open.” He was speaking suddenly and you could feel his breath on your lips, his tone light but commanding enough that for some reason you were immediately nodding your head and parting your lips for him.

He wasn’t wasting any time, sitting up enough so he could light the bowl once more and inhale it deep, holding it there in his chest easily for a few seconds before he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t a kiss but it was enough for your eyes to flutter closed, leaning forward to press tighter against him but still not enough to feel his mouth completely on yours.

It was completely sensual, the way he was breathing out the smoke into your mouth from his own, almost suffocating as you inhaled a shaky breath softly and swayed further against him to try to avoid letting it escape.

“Breathe it in.” He was directing you again now that the smoke was out of his mouth and inside yours, not bothering to lean back and give you space as he started to speak and you could feel his lip brushing against yours for just a second. “C‘mon hold it for me. You can take it deeper than that.”

Your eyes were widening in surprise at his suggestive words, letting the smoke out before you were planning to and sitting up straight to try and put some distance between the two of you. He didn’t seem bothered at all by your reaction and for a second you wondered if you had just misheard him, let your own guilty thoughts and insecurities take his words to mean something besides smoking.

It didn’t help that your stomach was flipping with want now, face reddening and getting warmer as you replayed what he had said in your mind.

“Do it again.” You were requesting it in a whisper and you weren’t exactly sure what you were asking for, judging yourself for secretly hoping he’d repeat his innuendo laced words so you could hear it in his voice again. Instead he was grabbing the bowl and placing it between the two of you, lighting it again and inhaling.

You didn’t have too much time to be disappointed considering he was immediately lowering it and connecting your lips again, not even giving you time to open your mouth to collect the smoke.

He seemed to take matters into his own hands and you felt his tongue pressing against your sealed lips, prying them open so he could tilt his head and funnel the smoke into your throat. For a second you were chasing after his tongue with your own, nearly kissing him fully in a deeper lust fueled high, but he was cupping your jaw briefly and closing your mouth so you were forced to breathe in the smoke.

It was settling deep in your chest and this time you held it for him, looking up at him slightly through your eyelashes with watery eyes and he had a more satisfied expression on his face now that you were listening to him.

“Good girl.” He was humming out the word casually but your mouth parted in surprise, legs instinctively clenching together as you let the smoke filter back out and hit his face instead. The smirk on his face told you that he had definitely noticed your reaction and you were starting to lose all feelings of guilt and hesitation, being replaced with something much more terrible.

Something so intense that you couldn’t stop yourself from rocking forward and pressing your lips against his fully.

He thankfully was immediately reciprocating and you tried not to think about where he learned to kiss this intensely, hands coming up to cup your face and keep you locked against him as you moved together. You’d rocked forward so far that you nearly knocked him over back against the bed, leaning over his lap now as you desperately kissed him deeper and deeper.

It took for his hand sliding down your back, attempting to pull you fully onto his awaiting lap, for you to snap out of it and sit up straight with a small gasp.

Your hand was reaching up to touch your lips and you tried to ignore the fact they were wet from his mouth, looking at him and scanning from his confused eyes down to his own swollen lips that most likely mirrored the state of your own. Your body was lit up with need and it didn’t help that he was still touching you, hand resting on your lower back like he was waiting for you to kiss him again.

“We can’t do this.” You were telling him sternly in a panicked voice, shaking your head desperately to try and make sure he understood and that your point was getting across to him.

His hand was sliding down lower and roughly squeezing, resting on the curve of your ass and sending your hips forward and more onto his. A soft gasp was slipping from your mouth, followed by a breathy whine at the feeling of him hardening and pressing against your front, even more unbearable considering he wasn’t moving his hand and was instead softly groping your behind and rocking you against him.

“But we’re going to.” He was responding to your rejection in a casual tone, sounding more confident than he was pushy and you let out another soft whine as you gave him a bewildered look. “You followed me up here, you came into my room in this tiny little skirt and climbed into my bed because you wanted me to fuck you.”

You were instinctively shaking your head in panicked denial but your hands were going to his shoulders, pulling yourself forward onto his lap fully and mewling softly at the feeling of him completely pressing against you.

He didn’t say anything else as you started to desperately move against him, your head falling forward and landing in the crook of his neck as you lifted yourself up and down slowly so you could feel him under you at every possible angle. His large hands were holding you roughly and lifting you every time you struggled, pushing your skirt up further on your hips so he could feel your bare skin and lace panties.

“Fuck fuck.” You were panting out into his neck and arching your back into him, a shiver rolling down your spine when he was harshly tugging at your underwear so it was pressed painfully against your sensitive clit.

“God, do you always get this wet?” He was finally started to sound affected and you let out an embarrassed sob at his words, hand sliding up the back of his neck until it was tangled in his long hair. You imagined you were already a mess considering how desperate you were feeling, an overwhelming heat mixing with your high and stopping you from thinking about anything other than Jake.

“Let me fuck you baby, let daddy fix this.” He was talking so sweetly in your ear in his low voice.

You were shaking your head again but you already knew your resolve was falling apart, feeling nearly inhuman with how much you longed to be full of something, especially if it was him. You were aching in your panties and the forbidden image of your best friends little brother stuffing you and making the ache go away was nearly making you drool.

“How old are you Jae?” You were gasping out and lifting your head out of his neck to look at his face clearly, fearing his response and knowing you had a right to the fear considering for the first time his eyes flashed with guilt and worry. You were quickly doing the math in your head and gasping again, sitting up even more and stopping your rocking against him. “Oh my god you’re barely legal.”

He suddenly looked really annoyed and you felt bad for getting this far with him, knowing you had no choice but to stop what you were doing and reject the boy before anything more happened.

Messing around with your best friends brother was one thing but doing it while he was just barely an official adult was too much for your conscience, even if you weren’t that much older than him.

He seemed to have a totally different idea than you considering he was scoffing in annoyance before he was pausing and then flipping you completely over, ripping a shriek from you as your back unexpectedly hit the bed and he was left hovering over you. You froze up in shock as he impatiently undid the buttons on your skirt that was still pushed up on your waist, tugging it down and tossing it somewhere across the room.

“Don’t act like you care about how old I am.” He was barely looking at you as he spoke with anger lacing his voice, looking at your nearly bare bottom half for a few seconds before he was glancing up at you to check for your reaction. “Let me eat your pussy.”

You were letting out a loud laugh of disbelief, lacking any humor as you clamped your thighs shut and shook your head. “I mean it Jake, we can’t do this. It’s wrong.”

His large hands were squeezing your ankles for a second before sliding up your legs softly, your breath getting shakier as he reached your knees and slowly separated your legs. You both could tell you weren’t actually showing any attempt to stop him, not even putting up a fight as he lowered his face closer to your core and you could feel his breath over the wet spot covering your panties.

“It’s wrong that you want my tongue so bad your thighs are soaked.” He was talking in between the kisses he was laying on your skin, getting closer and closer to the thin fabric separating you and the point of no return. “Would be wrong to let you leave my room without my cum in your stomach.”

“Please, you need to stop.” You were breathing it out in a moan once he finally was placing a kiss over your covered core, softly running his tongue along your wetness and humming softly. The vibrations went straight to your clit and your hips rolled off the bed, pushing his face straight against you. “Oh fuck.”

He let out something that sounded almost like a growl before he was pushing your panties to the side and diving into your wet folds, wasting no time in sticking his tongue as deep as he possibly could get it and ignoring the way you nearly screamed and tried to close your legs around his head. He used his free hand to aggressively slam your knee back against the bed, opening you up completely for him and practically making out with your cunt.

It was completely lewd and disgusting, the wet noises filling the room as he ate you out with a level of expertise that almost made your stomach turn with curiosity if it wasn’t for how good he was making you feel.

Your hand was going to his hair to pull him out of your core but plans changed when he was sucking your clit into his mouth softly, instead keeping him locked in place with his long strands between your fingers. He abandoned your sensitive bud to go back to trying to stick his tongue as deep inside you as he could, turning his head so he was pushing into your tight hole and he moaned against you, the vibration nearly pulling another scream from you.

“Please Jake, oh my god please.” You almost thought you were begging for him to stop but you both knew you weren’t, lifting your hips up every time he tried to take a breath in an attempt to keep him buried in your cunt as long as possible.

“Wanna cum on my tongue or my cock baby?” He was lifting his head up to question you and you were thrown off by how easily it rolled off his tongue, how confident he seemed to be in being able to fuck you properly and make you cum with no question. You rarely came from hookups and definitely left unsatisfied more often than not but something about the glare in his eyes made you believe him.

You were apparently taking too long to answer considering he was climbing back on top of you and adjusting you slightly, moving your body like it weighed nothing.

“Don’t know how long I’ve wanted you like this Y/N. Going to show you what a real man feels like inside this slutty little hole.” He was reaching down and rubbing his fingers against you for emphasis, smirking when you let out a shaky breath and your stomach clenched. “Beg for daddy to fuck you baby, let everyone hear how much you want me.”

You were shaking your head and letting out an actual sob now, tears heavy as they rolled down your face and landed on the bed underneath you. He looked completely unaffected by your emotional reaction to the humiliation and pure want you felt for him.

It didn’t matter what he said now and it didn’t matter even if his sister walked into the room and saw him on top of you like this, you’d realized from the second you entered the room that you’d let him do anything to you that he wanted and that fact drove you absolutely insane with guilt and embarrassment. He seemed to know it as much as you did considering he was silent and patient as he waited for you to get ahold of yourself, knowing you’d end up begging for him regardless.

“Please Jake I need you so bad, need you to fuck me baby please.” You were pleading with him through a sob, grabbing onto his shoulders and trying to lift your hips to meet his and show him how desperate you were.

His eyes darkened the more you spoke and for the first time since entering his room you felt genuinely anxious, letting out a cry as he swiftly moved his hand up so it was pressing on your throat and restricting your breathing. Your eyes widened at his sudden aggression even though you were beginning to understand your mistake.

“Say it again and say it right or I’ll throw you out of my room with nothing but your dripping cunt.” He was leaning down to spit the words into your ear and you let out an embarrassing whine, another rush of heat running through you. “You like that huh… like when I get rough with you?”

You were nodding the best you could with his hand around your throat, the sting of the pressure making more wetness rush out of you as complete desperation took over your mind and left you feeling dizzy and out of it. Out of it enough that your tongue was hanging out of your mouth before you realized it, mouth opening as you stared up at him with watering eyes and heavy eyelashes.

He let off some of the tension around your throat just enough for you to be able to speak in a weak voice.

“Please daddy please give me your spit, I’ll be a good girl I promise.” You were practically sobbing as you begged him and his eyes were basically darkened to pitch black at this point, staring down at you with a hunger you’d never experienced from someone before. “Can do whatever you want to me, I’ll take it.”

Jake aggressively gripped your jaw and tugged your head closer towards his, waiting until you were eagerly sticking your tongue back out for him so he could spit roughly into your mouth. Before you got a chance to swallow it he was chasing after his spit with his own tongue, licking against yours until he was practically in your throat. You hummed softly and bobbed your head so he was even deeper, wanting him inside you in every way humanly possible.

“God you’ve gotta let me fuck you now or I’m going to hurt you.” He was pulling back to speak through gritted teeth, nearly looking pained as he was roughly sitting you up and tugging off the sweater you’d been wearing, leaving you completely bare outside of your panties that were beyond stretched from the way he was holding them.

“Hurt me.” You were begging him for it before you even processed that you wanted it, the imagine of him holding you down and shoving himself so deep inside you that you couldn’t handle the stretch making your stomach tighten with want. “Please Jake hurt me.”

“Don’t even know what you’re fucking begging for, you’re such a slut you don’t even care how I fuck you.” He sounded so angry but you knew he was just as affected as you, tugging you up and back into his lap so you were straddling him again. He sucked one of your nipples into his mouth for just a second before he was letting it go to speak again. “Wanna drag you down to that packed living room and take you in front for everyone there, let everyone watch me stuff you so deep your stomachs bulging.”

You were dizzy now, almost worried you were going to pass out from how overwhelmed you were and he’d barely even touched you so far.

You were desperately rolling your hips into his again and he was surprisingly letting you, guiding you as you bounced in his lap and practically rode him despite the fact he was still fully clothed. The image of you, bouncing on his hard on while practically naked and dripping down your thighs compared to him being fully dressed and composed made you feel even dizzier and you found yourself longing for what he was describing.

“Gonna make me feel so full daddy please, I’m sorry.” You could feel his hardness pressing against you every time you bounced and you were so turned on you couldn’t even find the time to be embarrassed you were probably soaking the fabric of his pants, the time to be humiliated you were calling a boy younger than you daddy.

“Should be fucking sorry.” He was growling out the words again and flipping you over easily so your stomach was on the bed instead, lifting you up by your hips so your ass was perfectly presented for him.

He didn’t hesitate before he was sending a sharp smack to your bare skin, immediately ripping a pained yelp from you that faded off into a desperate whine. You were adjusting yourself so you were pushing your ass towards him more and silently communicating you wanted him to hit you again, sobbing into his bed and pressing your face into the blanket to try to muffle the sounds of your cries.

Thankfully, he was understanding and roughly hitting you again. You knew he wasn’t using his full strength considering how strong he was but he definitely wasn’t going easy on you and you could feel yourself leaking even more at the pain.

“Tell me you’re sorry for never looking my way when I was a kid.” His words were barely being processed by you since you were so dizzy but you cried harder at the sound of his deep voice commanding you. “Sorry for being such a fucking slut but never giving me the chance to fill this pussy up.”

“Only want you to fill me please.” You were being immeasurably too loud but you didn’t even slightly care, completely serious in your desires for him to be inside you no matter who was watching. “M so sorry Jae please, please.”

You could hear the sound of his belt coming undone behind you and you nearly cried with relief, adjusting even more so you were completely presenting your ass and core to him. You wanted him to see how much you belonged to him so he’d have no choice but to fuck you.

He must’ve finished undressing his lower half because you could feel him pressing against you and your back arched at the realization his skin was pressing against yours, a loud whine sounding through the room when you felt his bare cock rubbing against your folds and thighs experimentally. You pushed against him harder and he reached up to squeeze the fat around your hips roughly in annoyance, a silent warning as he groaned softly.

“Gonna stuff you now and you’re going to lay here and take it.” He was grunting as he spoke and you sucked in a sharp breath when the head of his cock caught on your hole, pushing in just enough for you to realize he was a lot thicker than you’d prepared for. “Fuck you’re so tight, I’m going to end up in your stomach.”

You arched at his words and whined into his blankets, pushing your hips back against his so he was going deeper inside you. The stretch was knocking the air out of your chest but you nearly cried with how full he was going to make you feel.

“Please daddy please, I’ll be such a good girl for you I promise.” You were pathetically pleading with him and you knew for a fact that if anybody had drunkenly wondered upstairs they could definitely hear you, but you didn’t care about anything other than him in this moment and he was driving you crazy with how slow he was pushing into you.

He was finally losing his control and fucking himself deep inside of you in one go, bottoming out as you both took deep breaths and tried not to lose it before you’d even started.

The sound of him groaning above you was making you even more needy and you were overwhelmed with how much you wanted to keep hearing him make sounds like that, instinctively clenching around his length and feeling the way he was throbbing deep inside you.

You were basically sobbing with pleasure just from his first stroke into you when he pulled out completely, your body reacting intensely to the emptiness as you immediately looked over your shoulder and prepared to beg for him to fuck you again, stopping mid sentence when he was turning you back over on your back so you were able to see him again.

He was slamming himself back into you before you even adjusted to the position and he felt ten times deeper now, a pained grunt falling from your lips as he started to finally actually fuck you.

“Fuck you’re so fucking tight Y/N. I thought you were a whore but you feel brand new for me baby.” His facial expression as he spoke through gritted teeth and continued to thrust into you made you dizzy and you desperately reached out to hold his arms to try and ground yourself.

“Just for y-you Jake, only wanna be this full with you.” You were practically delirious as you cried and spoke to him but your words seemed to turn him on more considering he was slamming into you harder, clearly enjoying the level of ownership you were voicing towards him.

You didn’t want to internalize any of the things he said about you not paying attention to him before, knowing if you stopped and considered what he was implying you’d not be able to go through with this.

He was skilled at distracting you considering he was reaching forward to aggressively grab at your wrist, placing your hand against your stomach and pressing down so harshly you grunted in upset as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The lack of understanding didn’t last long considering it took only two more rolls of his hips inside you for you to feel what he was intending, your stomach bulging slightly from his size forcing itself deeper.

“Feel that?” He was rasping and you looked up to meet his gaze for the first time since he entered you, taken back by how dark and deadly his eyes were. “You’re mine now.”

You were nodding quickly in confirmation, not because you agreed with what he was saying necessarily but because of the wave of fear you felt seeing how serious and cold his expression was.

He had managed to already get you shockingly close between the foreplay and rough manhandling and it wasn’t long before you were feeling the familiar tightness in your stomach, only worsening when he was leaning down and catching your mouth in the sloppiest kiss of the night. It was bordering painful and filthy, exactly what you needed to distract you from how wrong this was and exactly what you needed to have you finishing around his length with a sharp inhale into his mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him kissing you even after you’d came, letting him know it was okay to keep fucking himself deeper inside you.

It was just enough to help you forget everything outside of the feeling of him on top of you and you felt drunk with how much you wanted to stay in this moment. You were terrified by how much he seemed worth the consequences when you had him like this, how much you wanted him even when the door was swinging open and a loud shriek was coming from the hallway.

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nouearth · 11 months ago

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nsfw alphabet w/ bruce wayne.

bruce wayne x male reader.

a/n: something new i've been meaning to try, so thank you for this request for finally pushing me to do so!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

we all know bruce is a busy man. it's an unfortunate norm to wake up in the morning to his side of the bed and see nothing but the wrinkles of the bed sheets that once warmed his body; to visit him at work because he forgot lunch (again) and wait in his office because he was currently in another meeting; to watch him with exhaustion and worry in the night while he scans through evidence files regarding a new criminal case.

in short, it's exhausting to even think about putting yourself in his shoes, and bruce wonders how you managed to stay with him for so long. it's not his fault, though, and you tell him that through sweet whispers in his ears when he's feeling down, through a simple doting embrace when he falls asleep during the rare occurrence you two could watch a movie together. and he's grateful to have someone like you.

whenever you two had sex, bruce would make sure he took his time with you. he doesn't stop until his body is spent, until your body is wrecked from the love and lust he has for you, and when you two finally finish after a series of rounds, he holds you close. breathing, panting—floating because he lost count in how many times he had come in your wrecked hole.

he spoons you, your back to his sweaty chest, refusing to pull himself out of your hole (at least until his cock goes limp), and he likes having his palm over your own chest to remind him that you're still here. your heart runs an electrifying marathon, then slowly comes to a calming jog because he adores your body, caressing and allowing his hands to roam free wherever he pleases. he loves feeling every tremor your body would retrieve as he dozed you off with a slurry of languid kisses across your nape, then the melt of your muscles the closer he holds you, and when you've fallen asleep and let slumber press your full weight into him, he does the same—because you're safe now.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

not to sound like a pervert, but bruce really loves your thighs. whether they were exposed in those shorts you like to wear inside the manor or deliciously full and contained in those dress pants he brought for you; he always had his hand on your lap. whenever he needed your attention and you were sitting next to him, he would squeeze your thigh because you were ticklish there. whenever you two went out to eat, he preferred sitting next to you because your thigh was the toastiest furnace for his hand. he just liked how... complex your thighs were. soft and malleable to touch yet toned and firm when he suckled on the flesh. not to mention, they were the perfect handles whenever bruce went down on your cock and sucked you off.

for bruce, he's quite proud of his shoulders. they've always been broad since he was younger, but with intense training, they've only gotten larger and broader since then. and he's glad that he isn't alone in this inclination. whenever bruce was stressed, you'd massage his shoulders until he snapped out of his migraine and turned to thank your presence with a kiss. and of course, bruce's shoulders weren't for purely aesthetics. they were also extremely useful, practically acting as your own bike handles, as you rode his cock. they provided you balance and leverage as you worked a sweat on riding out his orgasm inside of you, until your ass was thickly filled with his warm seed. and even that, that doesn't stop you from stopping and milking him out.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

god, when it came to you, he is obsessed with your cum. he's completely enthralled how much cum could come out of you simply from him fucking you, and it was why he preferred you riding him, or at least on his lap, so he could have the best view of your cock spitting out thick loads of cum and fuck, splash zone much? he loved how warm it was when you would spray across his face, even his face at times as he proceeded to fuck you harder. and knowing that it would make you blush and whine, he loved scooping your cum up off his body and tasting you. nowhere near sweet like fantasies have endorsed, but perfectly and deliciously edible on his tongue, to the point where he makes sure he'll be sucking you off clean before you doze off.

for bruce, he loves the sight of his cum anywhere on your body. in your ass, on your back, between your thighs, every place imaginable was a turn on. but if he had to pick, fuck... coming on your face was a true delight that would beckon him for another round simply from watching your features get layered and layered with his thick loads. it was dirty, erotic, and demeaning, especially as you waited for his loads on your knees, but fuck—he couldn't get enough of it. he couldn't get enough of decorating you in his own musk.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

it's all about taking control for bruce. whether it's him as the caped crusader or him in bed, bruce likes being treated as someone respectable, someone with honor, someone with authority. and when it came to you, he likes being called sir.

on some occasions, it would be your secret code for him if you were horny and needed to go somewhere private with him in public.

feeling a little famished, sir. hm? couldn't quite hear you. sir, i said i'm feeling famished. now get in the bathroom before someone takes— okay, okay! geez.

on many occasions, bruce would use it to his advantage and tease you in bed. the tip of his cock would barely graze your pucker, tracing and circling the tender flesh with a covet for your begging. c'mon, tell me what you want. use the right words. f-fuck, please. i n-need your cock, sir. louder. i need you to speak clearly. sir! please! sir! i need you cock!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

they weren't wrong when the media labelled him as a 'playboy'. although, he had definitely settled down by the time he met you; earlier on, it was nonstop hook-ups with majorly women. for men, he'd leave it at blowjobs and nothing more. but hey, despite his inexperience with men, a hole was a hole, right? as long as it took his cock without any pushback, there was no complaint! besides, there was little difference in pleasuring women and men. he even found it exciting to learn from you, to learn with you, in how to give each other the best pleasurable one could offer.

you could proudly boast that you were the first one to put a finger in bruce's ass. and perhaps, convince him to put something else inside of him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

it's already been mentioned before, but bruce loves having you on his lap. not because of laziness or anything, but he truly loves your body and how incredibly vulnerable it had become as you fuck yourself on his cock. it was a culmination of your body putting on a performance for him and showing off his favorite parts about you, exposing it and further enticing bruce to do whatever he wanted to you, with every single bounce.

the bounce of your cock and pecs in rhythm with your hips, fucking yourself down on his cock; the droplets of sweat covering your skin in a greasy yet glorious sheen that could make him cream inside of you right then and there; the change in your expressions whenever bruce began fucking up into you instead, meeting your own hips in a steady and quick pace. his arms hurt from straining his own weight, but fuck was it worth it when you came all over him in thick, long spurts.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

bruce isn't usually humorous in bed. rather, he finds enjoyment in teasing you through a mixture of his demands and his actions. what always worked was pulling his cock out until only the plump tip was nearing its exit, and he always found amusement in how quick desperation came to possess your body and thoughts as you'd wiggle your ass back in attempt to shove him back inside.

mm-mm, what's the word? p-please, sir!

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

since you've known bruce, he had always maintained a very tidy and orderly appearance, probably because he was constantly in the spotlight since he was a kid, and his groin completely mirrored that upbringing. rather than completely going bare, he likes leaving enough hair to provide you a preview of what's to come after the first few centimeters of trimmed hairs—an appetizer before the main course, he reckoned.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

with how much work and his second persona has taken over his life, that left little time with you, and he feels absolutely guilty about it. it depends on the mood, but whether you two were engaged in rough or vanilla sex, bruce made sure to stick close to you. lace his fingers into between yours, have his mouth on your body at all times, mark you and kiss you wherever he hadn't, remind you how much he missed you, how much he loved you, how you were only his. fuck, he was possessive, and you found that incredibly romantic as much as it was suffocating at times. he made sure you praise you, to remind you how beautiful you looked taking his cock like this.

and before he falls asleep, he'd always whisper in your ear that he loves you, even if slumber had already taken you as hostage and stripped you away from the comfort of his assurance.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

bruce tries his best from jacking off, especially since he knows how much more gratifying it is to have you clench around him; to have you on your knees and swallow his cock down. but fuck, you were a tease. you loved sending him thirst traps whenever you knew he would be swamped up in a day full of meetings, and you knew you'd successfully infiltrated his mind when he would dislike your message with a thumbs down.

though, thanks to bruce sending you countless videos of him rubbing himself through his pants, you were left with little imagination on how bruce was spending his short break.

bruce has never been so thankful for you in his life. it took some convincing to get bruce on board with filming himself fucking you. and ever since then, bruce no longer had to rely on the memories of your warm touch, of your sweaty scent, of your whimpers as he blue-balled himself in his office.

right then and there, he'd whip his cock out from the zipper of his pants, and jacked off to the most recent video between you and him on his phone. and not to toot his own horn, but fuck was bruce a great director. up-close shots of your body, glistening under a layer of your own hot sweat, followed by thick droplets from bruce's. the flash on his phone made it so much more erotic, like an amateur porno, as it would focus on his cock driving deep into your ass from his perspective, his groans rumbling intimately over the speakers. bruce's abdominal muscles would flex and his core would engage as he mustered another strength to power through exhaustion, fueled by your begs and whimpers for him to fuck you harder, and fuck, it was better than porn. to recount and watch how he wrecked you that night made him bust multiple thick loads, and unfortunately soil his pristine suit.

to which, you'd most definitely pay for, one way or another, when he gets home from work.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

remember when i mentioned bruce liked having control? well, that definitely comes into effect when he's rough-housing you. only if you're in the mood of course (and you were always in the mood), but there's something so gratifying to him when he has his hand around your neck, your skin blooming under the warmth, squeezing harder and harder as he's fucking you into the bed. being rough with you also goes hand-in-hand with his praise kink, singing you low and sweet affections in your ear while you're taking his cock like you've always meant to.

that's it, fuck. good boy. like that? you like that?fuck, your sweet hole loves that.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

he'd love to be more experimental, but unfortunately that has to account for his schedule and for the most part, you two mostly have sex in bed. if not, it was a little quickie in his office. which isn't bad, but the idea of his temptation wearing his patience thin and just absolutely ravishing you in his car, or in a bathroom some place, had run through his mind multiple times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

as much as bruce knew that you dreaded it, there was a reason why he insisted on you coming to his charity galas. it was those god-damn suits he'd buy for you and it would be the only time he'd think to himself that the money was well-spent, if it even mattered to him.

bruce, i don't think i need another suit. what's wrong with the ones you got me two years ago?

out of style, out of season. see, i told you there's a reason why we don't follow trends.

it was distracting. it was the rare times where you'd look completely different from your normal self. your hair in a different style. your suit tailored according to your build. your confidence covertly reviving because you didn't want to admit that you actually really liked looking like this. your forearms breaching free when you rolled up your sleeves, and fuck, it was so seductive. if bruce hadn't dressed you and helped out with the styling, he'd assume you'd come from old money.

sometimes he'd regret it because all eyes were on you, on bruce's man, and it was a complete nuisance dealing with drunk patrons attempt to flirt with you as if you could even understand anything they were saying with their limp tongue in the way of their speech.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do)

listen, bruce is down for anything, but he doesn't exactly get wax play. maybe he's been almost set on fire too many times to count, but the idea of accidentally burning your skin because he poured too much or something makes him freak out. it was more about the discomfort regarding your safety, than his overall distaste for it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill,)

bruce doesn't admit it, but in your words, he's pretty selfish. not in a bad way because he always makes it up to you afterwards, but it was the control thing coming to play again. you suck him off first, and then he'll reward you with his own mouth if it was deemed worthy enough (you know it's a bluff, but it's always fun to play along).

he loves seeing you take his cock. it feels like almost every other day where you're down on your knees and sucking him off, and he hasn't gotten tired of it yet. you know where his cock like no one else, know where he was the most sensitive, how he liked it sloppy and dripping from your spit. it was a fucking turn on to see you so devoted to pleasuring him.

for giving, he's better at rimming than giving you blowjobs. for the most part, he hates that gagging feeling whenever he barely took his cock in your mouth, and you'd always tease him for it, making him blush profusely. he's never been bad at something, even if you don't say it, so he makes it up in devouring your ass like it's been a week since he's had proper food. like your blowjobs, he likes having you dripping in spit, your musky hole wet and tender from the amount of turns he's had licking and fucking you with his tongue. and the way you pushed your ass out and arched into the back as he buried his nose in between your cheeks discovered a new kink of his: asphyxiation.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

for the most part, it depends on his mood and energy. if it was a stressful day, he expects you to let him wreck your body until it was spent and pliant beneath him. to properly get him off, he needed the most lewd sounds to come out of your mouth; the writhe in your body because he got a little carried away at first but you then slowly adjusted yourself to; the friction of the sheets burning at his knees; he needed you hard and your body was going to feel the consequences the next morning. and then there are days where bruce wants to take his time with you, worship your body with the hands you would always hold onto whenever you felt at unease; with the mouth you would always latch onto with your own whenever you needed to renew vitality; with his body you would always safeguarded yourself in no matter how you were feeling because you knew bruce never failed to protect you. his thrusts would slow, languid but never lazy as he liked keeping you on your toes and hitting you at the deepest spot with a sudden rut, and then measured again as he pulled himself out, watching his cock throb and watching your hole take all of his love in with no objection.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often)

quickies were never as satisfying as the time fully spent with you, but it got the job done. usually on days where he was the most stressed and needed to let something out, he'd call you over to the office for lunch and where you were expecting to eat your steamy leftovers with him, you ended up bent over his office desk, naked from the waist below, taking bruce's frustration up for the day. not that you were complaining, though. he always extended his lunch to properly eat with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks)

bruce is pretty content with his sex life with you. if you mentioned something about a new kink or wanting to experiment, he'd take up the entire night or two researching up about it, studying it methodically to ensure nothing wrong can happen and how to handle the situation if it does.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

the man can go all night, have you seen his training regime? and the best part is? you let him have his way with you with multiple rounds despite usually being the one to cum first, and it would be a norm to have you coming again in the same night.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them?)

he owns very little toys, no other reason being than bruce wanting you to rely on his dick for pleasure only. he wants you dependent on it, so there's a pretty big chance you might offend him if you suggest a phallic-type toy.

why the hell do you want a dragon dildo?! fifteen inches?!?! jesus christ—am i not big enough or something?!

what—no! didn't you say you liked seeing me struggle?! if anything, it's for YOUR own pleasure, bud. geez...

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

bruce loves teasing you. to be honest, who in the world doesn't love teasing their partner? it's adorable to see you try to squirm away from him when he's hugging you from behind while you're doing whatever and kissing the shell of your ear, then slipping his hand down your pants to feel how hard your dick had gotten from the most minuscule action. and fuck, when he throws in a little verbal play to remind you about how your dick is his and no one else's; you'd be thinking about it for the rest of the day, at least until bruce left for work and you were back onto his bed, sprawled out and whimpering as you spilled multiple loads over your tummy.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

there's something extremely sexy in a way that bruce tries to contain his volume through gritted teeth. it was intimate the way lust unveiled himself. hushed groans in your ear, biting into your earlobe then neck to keep himself from moaning out loud, and fuck, he'd tremble from how much pleasure you were giving him. it would be reflected through his breaths, ruptured as he panted in your mouth during a kiss.

and you were so fucking proud when the moment he disposed a load inside of you, he couldn't help but gush out a deep, guttural moan from within, one that would shake you to your core, and possessed you to spill your own load simply from the sound of his relief.

W = Wild Card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

if bruce had all day with you, he'd want to spend it dry-humping you, specifically in suits. he saw it in a movie once, two men gyrating each other while one was on the other's lap, and it was even hotter than two nude men blowing each other off. and fuck, was he right. there was nothing more infuriating than seeking for pleasure that could be more gratifying. he'd angle his hips, you'd angle yours, and you two would rub, hump into each other's cocks, grind against one another with a steady rhythm while he stilled your head for an equally heavy make-out session. you'd beg for him to just take you right then and there, rip your clothes off and everything, but no. bruce doesn't and never does, and he persists, relieving your aching cock with his own until you two stain the inside of your dress pants, a deep and thick wet spot forming at the center of the trousers afterwards.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

bruce would be above average, but definitely not hung like most people assume, and you liked that. it was perfectly fit for your body and most importantly, bruce knew how to utilize that thing. he dug deep, made sure you feel every inch, and fuck, his heavy balls holding his thick cum-loads were the cherry on top of your desires for him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

sex would be the first thing on his mind whenever bruce is stressed. maybe not so much when he's pummeling down criminals, but more so in his daily life where he's swamped in meetings and talking with shareholders. i mean, is it his fault that you looked so good frying up eggs this morning? you had absolutely no reason to, especially when sleep was still laced in your face.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

bruce has always been a nocturnal animal. even when you've fallen asleep first and nothing but the sounds around him were a droning brown noise specifically curated to lull him to sleep, he'd still remain awake for a while before falling asleep. there was too much on his mind, even if he had emptied it out inside of you. overwhelming thoughts came in as quick as they came out, and luckily, you were there to be the support he needed.

the soft snores of your slumber were evidence that you felt safe with him, a reminder that you were able to sleep like this because he did a fucking great job in keeping you away from danger, and he hoped it would remain that way as he snuggled into you, holding you close to his chest as if tomorrow could change the trajectory of fate.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x male reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne fic #nou.fics

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bombuni · 8 months ago

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hiiiii, can you do reader being obsessed with seonghwa’s waist and him being shy? it can be fluff or smut i dont mind.

have a good day!!

contains: dd!seonghwa x drunk!reader, mmm implied fem reader, fluff, pining, idiots in love (but they don’t know it yet!)

Seonghwa flicks the lights on to your apartment kitchen, eyes squinting at the intense fluorescent lighting. It’s hard to maneuver in your mess of a home, a blurry of you covering every corner of this room, but he knows your place like the back of his hand by now. What with him spending every waking moment here. You hobble over to where he’s grabbing a glass of water for you, tripping over your tall heels on the way.

Seonghwa giggles at your state. You’re completely depending on the kitchen counter for balance, hair messy, and sober you would definitely be pissed with the way he’s letting you walk around with your makeup half-ruined. He makes a mental note to wipe it off for you when he’s given the chance.

He brings the glass to your lips, “You’re so drunk,”

You push him away like a toddler, shaking your head, “‘m normal,”

He chuckles and the sound of it clears your mind faster than any other relief could, “Are you hearing yourself?”

Seonghwa kneels in front of you and you straighten up quickly, “What are you doing?”

He looks up at you with a raised brow, “Taking your heels off? You can barely stand, doll.”

Your hum lets him continue. He delicately raises your ankle, as if you’re made of glass, and you feel more light headed than ever. Seonghwa’s touch is lovingly overstimulating, like he’s trying to tell you everything he feels with his fingers. He makes a show of removing the shoe, presenting it to you from below like you’re a kindergartner and this is the first time you’ve ever heard of footwear. He smiles when you pout at his teasing.

He holds you up as you get used to the new height and waits until you get your bearings. He’s going to let go when he realizes it’s you that’s holding on to him, your arms somehow finding their way under his coat and around his waist. He blushes at your showy affections, his body growing hot where your arms rest. Your touch makes him just as drunk as you. Seonghwa wraps his coat around you both and lets you stay where you are, sending tingles down your back as he rubs it tenderly.

He tuts at the tired look on your face, “You drank too much,”

Your head drops onto his shoulder and your arms squeeze tighter, “Why are you so slim thick?”

His hand stutters and he huffs a laugh at your absurdity, “What does that mean?”

“You’re…you have a nice body,” your hands run down his sides and his breath catches, “A very nice waist too,”

Seonghwa tries to gently coax you off of him. He knows how embarrassed you’d be if you had any self-awareness right now, and he cares enough to preserve your dignity. Still, he can’t help his giggles at your drunken confidence. And it’s not like he’s not liking the compliments.

He holds your arms as you stumble without him to lean against, “You have a nice body too,”

He whispers his words, growing shy at the fact he’s speaking his innermost thoughts out loud to you. Seonghwa will say these words to you now, so an unconscious part of you can embed his love into your thoughts. So at least some part of you knows how he feels.

You hum, “Yours is nicer.”

He lets all his love pour into his smile now, putting all of it on display for you. You won’t remember it.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

bom note: this was the cutest silliest idea ever!!!! i love seonghwa. So much.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa fluff

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loganhowlettshousewife · 2 months ago

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lazy mornings and the proposal

animal - bonus headcanons

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

i wanted to let everyone know that even with the epilogue coming out soon and the series being officially over, i'm still not ready to let go of these two. so if you have any ideas or prompts or questions about feral!logan feel free to submit an ask!

warnings: mentions of sex, light sweat kink (oops)

series masterlist │my masterlist

there’s nothing better than a lazy morning with logan, staying in bed long past sunrise, chasing the warmth that can be found in each others arms. it’s rare, these days, now that he’s gotten a job as a lumberjack and has to be up fairly early most mornings for work, making sure to wake you before he leaves, kissing you deeply and reminding you that he loves you. gone are the days where the two of you would stay home together, locked in your own little world with no one to bother you.

he’d wanted - no, he’d needed, really- to get a job. it gave him something to do with his days, a purpose other than stalking your every move, following behind you like a shadow as you went about your day. it’s a distraction, and a welcome one, one that gives him the opportunity to be a more balanced version of himself, to find peace and trust that you aren’t going to disappear if he leaves you out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

he brings home a decent paycheck, much more than you were making by selling the extra produce from your garden. it’s unnecessary, everything you own had once belonged to your grandparents and has long been paid off, but it’s nice to have the extra cash, to be able to go into town with logan and splurge on expensive alcohol for him and gorgeous new dresses for you.

he’s good at what he does, hacking away at wood with his unnatural strength given to him by his mutation. he’s the best at what he does, to the point where you occasionally worry it’s become too obvious that he’s not like the others, but he always comes home safe.

the smell of wood and sweat cling to him like a second skin and you bury your face in his neck, understanding his obsession with doing the same to you, loving the way the smell of him surrounds you, makes you feel like he’s the only thing in the world. maybe it should be gross, he’s exerted himself all day and is covered by the proof of it, but there’s something about it that makes you melt into him every time.

he takes off his muddy shoes and picks you up, ignoring your squeal of protest at the unexpected gesture, smirks when you wrap your legs around his waist. he brings you into your bedroom to take the stress of his day out on your body or into the bathroom where you run your hands over his bare skin and wash away anything that isn’t your loving touch. either way, the tension leaves him the moment he’s returned to you, able to recognise that you’re safe.

you love the life you’ve built, the ease and comfort of it, and yet those lazy mornings, so few and far between, are still your favourite. the days where logan doesn't have to go into work and you push back your daily chores for later because you would much prefer to stay snuggled up in bed, laughing as he kisses your neck and bare shoulders, twinning your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

the night he proposes starts off like any other. he returns home from work to the smell of dinner in the oven, takes you apart under the warm stream of water from the showerhead beating down on your skin, lets you wash away the grime from his body and dig your hands into the tense muscles of his back, massaging away the day’s activities. he melts into you, letting you care for him in a way he’d never let anyone else, and you smile beatifically.

when you exit the shower, it’s to the sound of the oven timer going off, announcing that the dinner you’d prepared for the two of you is ready. you hardly notice when logan doesn’t follow you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen as usual - some days he returns from a long day on the job and refuses to leave your side, on others he needs moments of solitude peppered in to keep the overstimulation at bay.

he stops in your shared bedroom as you plate the food, giving logan double your portion size as usual.

his body requires more energy to function, his healing factor taking a lot out of him. it’s not something logan ever noticed, since he doesn’t bother to worry about his own health most of the time, but you see the way it affects him when he doesn’t eat the way he should. it’s horribly taxing on his body, making his veins protrude from his skin in harsh lines, a reminder that no matter how easy it is to ignore it when looking at his muscular and imposing stature, his body is still starving.

you’ve made it your mission to feed him, and so you narrow your eyes into a glare until he finishes his plate, leaning over afterwards to kiss the annoyance from your lips, muttering praises and thanks that have your skin tingling and face feeling hot.

he’s healthier now, a layer of fat covering his muscles, a softness to his body that wasn’t there before. it’s something you pride yourself on, the knowledge that you’re taking good care of him.

he doesn’t talk much throughout dinner, though he never does. you tell him about the latest book you’ve started reading, going back and forth on whether or not you’re truly enjoying it, complaining about the characters personalities while raving about the writing style. it makes logan smile, watching you be so passionate.

he gives you a few vague sentences about his day at work when you press him about it. “it’s not that interesting,” he says, the same excuse he gives every day. occasionally, he’ll have some gossip to share about the men he works with, his enhanced hearing allowing him to listen to their conversations without being forced to partake in them, but not today. “would much rather listen to you talk, darlin’.”

with desert in front of you and a peaceful lull in they conversation he takes your hand, kisses the back of it with his slightly chapped lips before getting down on one knee and pulling out the ring he’d bought a few weekends ago while you perused the farmer’s market stalls. it’s not big or flashy, the night is hardly out of the ordinary in any way, but it’s perfect. your eyes prick with tears that you attempt to hold back but fall anyway the moment you blink.

this is what makes yours and logan’s relationship, the understanding that there’s no need to be anything but yourselves, that as long as he’s here promising to love you forever, pleading you to do the same, there’s nothing else that could come close to matching the joy in your heart as you say yes.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

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angelkiyo · 6 months ago

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modern au high school hcs for my fav haikyuu boys based on my high school experiences + romance hcs <3

[miya osamu, sakusa kiyoomi, oikawa torū, iwaizumi haijime]

a/n- part one + my asks are open bc i do not know what to write but im down for mostly anything tbh so ASK AWAY PLS

miya osamu

he has a similar gpa to his brother [gpa at a 2.5 😔]

is in culinary club and the president

since atsumu is a drake glazer, osamu makes sure to bring up kendrick everytime he hears a drake song

he had a field day when “not like us” mv dropped

even though his brother and him are opposites in a way, that hasn’t stopped osamu from being submitted on ‘inarizaki.bops’

he was most likely talking to a teacher

private insta with 300 followers

doesn’t give a fuck abt p.e and would be enjoying basketball if they weren’t able to play volleyball

osamu would probably also have a very casual way of dressing — stussy and abrocrombie fiend

steals from his brother’s nike collection while owning several pairs adidas gazelles and new balances himself

as for with his s/o, he would be more of a soft launch guy and would post stories of you two holding hands or the two of you in a mirror pic

he would def be holding your hand in the halls and having his arm around you

imagine peter k lara jean moment

your friends would find him to be a green flag

the two of you would use study hall to not study at all but use his little crock pot thing he got from tiktok shop and make food

would try to be nara smith one day and fail miserably

very much would wear ‘aqua de gio’ bc i said so (n would find atsumu’s cologne to be too strong)

dates would include: cooking at his place and eating your masterpieces while watching movies (esp spider-man bc he seems the type)

artists he would listen to: kendrick lamar, joey bada$$, childish gambino, doja cat

sakusa kiyoomi

annoyingly smart (3.6 gpa) and would probably get a 4/5 avg on his ap tests

if he wasn’t on volleyball, he seems the type to be in academic decathlon or science olympiad

would be keeping to himself but if he were to play a sport, it would be smt like lacrosse or tennis

he’s rich. like RICH RICH. (he goes to itachiyama with three siblings or smt)

so he’d wear like club monaco, j. crew, or like ralph lauren

would have a specific rotation of shoes that would be asics or new balance in white

insta would be like 700 followers and 32 following

for him and his s/o, he’d be like osamu and would be very much soft launch you

even though he hates crowds, he would very much like to go out with you shopping (in a shopping center that has nobody/barely anyone)

kiyoomi may be presenting himself as a cold and calculating and he can be, but he’s a soft to ppl he’s close with

him and komori would use brain rot language ironically (I just see that lemme elaborate) after komori would use brain rot language unironically

he would use it with you once “by accident”

he kept hearing komori say it and said it subconsciously

and then never again after the second hand embarrassment he got

“on skibidi…?”

you still bring it up to this day (he blames komori)

dates would include movie nights and making pillow forts

artists he would listen to: sza, 21 savage, kanye west, playboi carti

oikawa torū

would be a note taking fiend and be an honors/ap student with a 3.4

he would be on a ‘bop’ page for volleyball in general

great king? nah great bop

instead of being a wyll warrior, he’d be one of the mfks on insta that would slide up with a 😍 then ghost you after dm-ing

another dior sauvage user and on some days, versace eros…

caught up in the central cee madz drama

also obsessed with watching nara smith (me too)

he’s team ice spice

would be very persistent in taking 0.5s

though because of this, he purposely fluffs up his bangs and hair for him to not fall victim to 0.5s

if he didn’t play volleyball, he would play badminton/tennis

would be a SLUTTTT for pinterest clean boy fits

very clean boy core with his lululemon mens shit and would be shopping at alo + urban outfitters

also ralph lauren teddy bear sweaters n golden gooses

his insta user would be smt like “theyenvy_.toruuu” or basic like his full name and he would have more than 3k followers

THOUGH HE WOULD BE MAKING THOSE SHARED POSTS W YOU.

his finsta would be very full of you and spams of volleyball

nle choppa slut me out 2 glazer

dates would include: self care day at either one of your places while watching baddies or real housewives +shopping

artists he would listen to: laufey, cigarettes after sex, olivia rodrigo, megan thee stallion, nle choppa

iwaizumi hajime

he went to uci so he has his shit tgt (nhs and 3.9 type shit w aps)

though, he would definitely be apart of debate club and a lacrosse person if he didn’t do volleyball

shops at psycho bunny or hollister. the occasional lululemon shirt bc oikawa put him on

would wear yeezys and supreme, i fear

i can see him being into watching the “who tf did I marry” series

massive gym bro

would have his finsta tracking his gains

his fyp would also probably be workouts and those “baby don’t hurt me” meme tiktoks (idk how to explain)

would be the winner of senior assassin

he would def shoot oikawa first

type of person to wear ‘obession’ by calvin klein mixed with axe body spray

as for insta, he would def have a good 1k

would post you to the cutest songs ever and collab on posts

HARD LAUNCH TYPA GUY

yall would have like a specific song that would make him be like “this is our songgg”

in his head

most likely a tyler song

aka ‘sweet/i thought you wanted to dance’

he’d be the okokok to your lalalala

dates would include: him just spoiling you and dinner dates

artists he would listen to: tyler the creator, metro boomin, 21 savage, kendrick lamar, j. cole

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wisecura · 2 months ago

Text

Nanny

SatoSugu x f!reader (if I’m being honest I didn’t realize—) Wc: 8.7k, and then

summary: Isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen, you sell yourself to the Gojo Clan in an attempt to change your favorite characters fates. You change many things, and are able to see the boys grow peacefully, yet now with them out of the clan house you find yourself in a predicament. Your arranged marriage.

AN: I will be going back through and editing this so pleaseeeee be aware and patient (not that you aren’t already 😉)

Warning: yandere, manipulation, gaslighting

What direction should I take this?

It had been a restless evening, the emptiness of your house only adding to the unease. With your husband away on another mission, worry consumed you, and you found yourself checking your phone obsessively. He’d been getting back to back missions recently, the next tougher than the previous. When a message from *Satoru* flashed on your screen, you sighed, knowing him well enough to brace yourself. He’d been texting constantly, asking how you were, each question playful yet persistent. But tonight was different.

> “Hey, open up! I brought some company. 😉”

Before you could even think of a reply, there was a knock on the door, quick and insistent. Your heart skipped—you knew Satoru well enough to know he didn't need to wait for an answer. In typical fashion, he’d decided to make an appearance without a second thought. And, of course, Suguru would be there as well, always close behind. Always following Satoru’s impulsive ideas with a tact and restraint that balanced his friend’s recklessness. It’s always been this way. It had been over a year since you’d seen either of them in person, so maybe you should have expected this—an unannounced visit, catching you completely off guard.

Opening the door, you found Satoru and Suguru standing there, too comfortable, as if they’d belonged in your entryway. Satoru’s grin was wide, a touch smug, his sunglasses pushed up on his head so his bright blue eyes could bore directly into yours. Beside him, Suguru wore a slight, closed-eye smile that softened his expression but did little to ease the quiet intensity in his gaze. Satoru looked amused, mischievous, and undeniably pleased to see you, while Suguru’s calm, patient stare held you in place, as if daring you to turn them away. Before you could say another word, Satoru invited himself in, pushing past you.

“Well, look who’s finally decided to grace us with her presence,” Satoru’s voice rang out, laced with that playful edge, as he swept past you, already making himself at home in your living room. “A whole year, and you’re acting like we’re strangers. Not very welcoming, Mrs. Kamo.” His voice dropping in tonnage at the mention of your new surname.

A shiver ran down your spine at the way he dragged it out, each syllable laced with a mocking drawl. You still weren’t used to hearing it. The new name felt foreign, like a title you hadn’t quite claimed. Suguru, still lingering by the doorway, let his gaze meet yours, that faint smile on his lips—one that seemed strained at the edges, as though he was just as unsettled as you were. There was something in his look that was patient yet pointed, as if he, too, was piecing together the reality before him.

Satoru set a bag of snacks on the coffee table, his eyes sweeping over the clean yet modest room, taking in every detail with a slight arch of his brow, as if comparing it to the grandeur of the Gojo clan estate. The heat crept up your cheeks under the weight of his silent judgment, and you felt a prickle of self-consciousness under their scrutiny. You finally made your way fully into the living room. Suguru followed a step behind you, his gaze tracing the details of the room and lingering over subtle hints of your husband’s presence: a jacket draped over the arm of a chair, a pair of shoes neatly set by the door. No pictures though. You could feel their silent appraisal, the faint tension crackling between the three of you.

The reality was sinking in for them now. They had heard, of course, only a week after you’d married—a brief, cold announcement that their former nanny, their constant presence, was now married to some grade 2 sorcerer from the Kamo clan. The shock had been palpable, but they hadn’t received so much as a word from you about the whole thing. Not a single explanation. It was as if you’d vanished, leaving only a name and title they barely recognized. Your text messages after the news, became short and distant -- less casual, evading any mention of your husband or your new life. Your schedule suddenly filled, enough to displace your meet ups. Satoru and Suguru had been busy after that. Very busy.

Suguru’s typical restraint seemed to slip, his normally calm demeanor laced with the same faint bitterness as Satoru’s. He was calm, but his words carried a bite, a hint of something you hadn’t expected from him. “You know, Satoru,” he began, his voice soft-purring almost, yet laced with mirth, his eyes sweeping over your modest home, “it’s not really her fault. She’s newly wed, after all.” His voice carried a strain, colder than you were used to, his tone dipping into a mocking edge. “Honeymoon phase 'n all.”

You felt the sting of his words and braced yourself for the inevitable teasing, knowing they had likely heard about your marriage from someone other than yourself. They were bound to find out, and deep down, you knew you had this conversation coming.

Still, you’d convinced yourself it wouldn’t be as big a deal. They had moved out of the clan house, each finding their own paths. Satoru, ever the rebel, had shirked his responsibilities as clan heir, showing his familiar disregard for tradition and hierarchy. He’d never been one to follow the rules, and you had thought—maybe naively—that this wouldn’t matter so much.

His focus honed in on the two children he'd taken in-Megumi and Tsumiki. Suguru, through your insistence maintained his missions to life balance, having also taken in the two girls he met in that village-Nanako and Mimiko. Something you'd advised him on before things had gotten out of control, like in the original story. Your small interferences in this world that allowed for more peace.

Adjusting to life-in this new world had been jarring at first; you hadn’t expected a second life, especially not after your first ended so soon. You’d read the Jujutsu Kaisen manga, even watched the show. So the cold, isolated world of their childhoods was something you were painfully familiar with. Satoru, at least, had the prestige of his clan, while Suguru’s circumstances were far worse than you’d realized. Using your cursed energy-your life-as leverage, you struck a deal with the Gojo clan-securing a place as Satoru's caretaker. Weighing your life on the line, and your compliance with any request the current clan head deemed necessary. And with this promise you were allowed to bring in Suguru. Suguru, once you found him, required little convincing, his situation had been far more unfavorable than you'd of guessed. Despite being only a few years older, you’d practically raised the two boys. Together. The way you thought it should've been. And when they made it through high school still loyal to one another, you felt a deep satisfaction-pride, hopeful for the future you’d managed to shape.

Now, standing in your small home with them after such a long separation, a tentative smile found its way to your lips. The tension, palpable. You tried to ease into the conversation, letting warmth slip into your voice as you went to shut the door. “It’s so good to see you two,” you said, hoping to mask your own discomfort. “I wasn’t expecting you to just… show up…” you hastily corrected yourself, “but you’re always welcome here. I’ve just been busy—”“Busy ignoring us, yeah?” Satoru cut in, eyes still roaming your living room, sounding like he was putting a great effort into maintaining his playful yet bored persona.

The underlying bitterness was still there. He threw himself onto the couch with an unamused scoff. He patted the cushion beside him—a silent command for you to sit—his gaze steady, almost expectant. But you stayed where you were, studying him with a cautious eye. Satoru could be bratty, sure. He’d thrown tantrums before, though they never went beyond pouting and whining, which usually resolved with him clinging to yours side or Suguru’s until his mood lifted. Even as he grew older, that side of him never faded. Clinging was just something he did, a comfort you’d grown accustomed to.

But this time, he seemed more wound up, his tone just a little more cold that you'd like. Not that you were scared he'd hurt you, but you knew you didn't know where this conversation would lead. the unexpected, yeah?

When you didn’t take the offered seat, he rolled his eyes, and his tone sharpened as he continued, “You didn’t even tell us about the wedding. What was up with that, huh? Did they threaten you or something?” His question caught you off guard, a bluntness you weren’t prepared for beneath his casual delivery. Across the room, Suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze calculating-watching the conversation unfold- ready to step in if needed. His posture was relaxed-with great effort. The silence stretched, his presence somehow heavier than Satoru’s, until finally, when he felt you wouldn't answer, he spoke.

“Satoru’s right.” His voice was smooth, calm, but the bite never left his words. “You never even told us about…” He paused, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to search for the right term. “Him. And now here you’re married and… preoccupied.” His words felt deliberately chosen, disapproving.

You hesitated, feeling their unwavering gazes pressing down on you, making it difficult to find the right words. You had to explain yourself. You knew you did. These two boys, whom you raised and grew up with. Who you protected and cared for. At least you could try to explain yourself, without you giving away the deal you struck with the current Gojo Clan Head. The man that took you in that day. The promises you made.

“It wasn’t personal,” you sighed, feeling your voice waver. No. You couldn't falter now. Yet, the explanation felt hollow even as you spoke. “And no, I wasn’t threatened,” you added, a small, half-hearted attempt at a joke that fell flat. “I just… I thought the higher-ups would have informed you. It wasn’t meant to be a secret.” Distance. You've always been reminded to keep your distance from the two. You look away somewhat guilty, knowing how bland your answer was. It really hadn't been personal. You just knew how busy they were. And with the pressure from the higher ups to move forward...quickly… and the reminder from your Clan Head of your duty. Your role in this society.

Satoru snorted, crossing one leg over the other, his arm stretching across the back of the couch in a way that took up far more space than necessary.

“Yeah, because I love getting news about you from the higher-ups.” His eyes glinted with a rebellious spark, a hint of challenge in his voice. “But you couldn’t tell us yourself? Not a single heads-up? Didn’t think to mention it in any of those text messages? C’mon, you’re better than that, aren’t you?”

Suguru’s gaze softened as he took in your discomfort, his voice slipping into a low, coaxing tone. He knew what Satoru was doing-but he at least needed to soften you up a bit. Satoru was never one for social cues. “We were only a little surprised, you know,” he murmured, confirming Satoru's words, gently. “We thought you trusted us. At least enough to tell us.” His words lingered in the air for a moment. His thoughts turned to a slightly darker place, once again feeling a little peeved that you hadn't even whispered a word about this to them before. His expression grew colder-not really able to stop it, more guarded as he seemed to think his next words over. “But it seems like your marriage took priority. Did you think we wouldn’t care? That we wouldn't have anything to say about this?”

You knew what he meant. With how close you were when growing up, not even hearing it from you directly would come as a shock. And with how busy you've been lately….and with your husband's requests. “I’m sorry if I made you feel…” you trailed off, hands wringing together as you searched for the right words. “But it’s not as if I chose him… you know that. The higher-ups arranged it. It all happened so fast, and Itaru doesn’t really like me talking—”

“Ugh, don’t even say that name,” Satoru cut you off quickly, his face scrunching up with barely concealed disdain. His words felt like a slap across the face, and he looked at you as if the very mention of your husband was somehow a personal attack. Surprise was an understatement. You had no idea where the hostility for your husband was coming from. For you? Sure. Before you could dwell on it—Suguru’s hand found your shoulder, a steady touch, though his gaze held an edge that mirrored Satoru’s irritation.

“We’re not interested in hearing his excuses. We’re here for you,” he said softly, as though he was talking to a child. Scolding. “And if he’s already setting boundaries on who you can talk to… well, that’s a problem, no? Especially if he's keeping you from us.”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed at your lack of response, a faint smirk forming, though it was devoid of humor. “Let me guess,” an uncharacteristic sneer plastered on his handsome face, “He’s got all these ‘concerns’ about you staying close with us. Convenient, isn’t it? Distancing you from the people who’ve actually looked out for you. Manipulating you into thinking he knows what’s best. What a sly little rat.” You hesitated, words failing to form as Satoru’s words sunk in-almost wanting to defend the man you agreed to marry. The truth was complicated, far more delicate than he was making it sound. Itaru had only requested a little distance from other men, something he’d framed as temporary. He hadn’t forced anything, just… gently insisted. And even when you’d explained to him that Satoru and Suguru were like family—brothers, practically—it hadn’t made much difference. He’d merely restated that it was just for a little while, an adjustment to settle into this new life. Especially while he was being assigned to an ungodly amount of missions recently. He didn't trust that the men around you wouldn't notice a lonely housewife when they saw one. Not that-that-was on your mind, anyway.

But how could you phrase that now, standing before them?

Suguru’s gaze remained soft, condescending. “So… that’s what he’s asking of you? That you keep away from us? All those months…” His tone even but cold. “Is that really what you want?” “N-no that's not how it is-,” you tried. Satoru crossed his arms, leaning back, challenging you to explain. “Why’s he so worried, huh? Because he doesn’t trust you?” His voice dipped, mocking. “Or maybe he doesn’t trust us, because he knows he doesn’t measure up. He’s worried he can’t compete with what’s already here.” His arrogance, back in full swing. Even with the years spent "counseling" him, you still couldn't knock that bad habit of his.

You felt like they were twisting your words around, or maybe you just weren't explaining things properly.

But you had your doubts about following through with this too. You knew Itaru’s intentions weren’t necessarily mean, that he was just cautious, wanting to ease into things his own way. But now, under their scrutiny, your reasoning seemed thin, flimsy, as if you were the one desperately grasping for excuses. It didn't help that you felt guilty for not mentioning it before. Your marriage, the move, the reasoning behind your distance, you always opting out of the limited meets ups they scheduled with you. But standing here, with Satoru’s sharp gaze cutting through your feeble defenses and Suguru’s quiet intensity drawing out every buried doubt, you wondered if you’d been deluding yourself this entire time. You'd grown so close with them over the years. They could read all your tells.

“I didn’t mean to push you two away,” you murmured, unsure of where this was going-what they wanted you to say here, looking away from their intense gazes. “I just… thought you’d be busy with missions, training—”Satoru laughed, shaking his head as if the half formed excuse was already ridiculous. “Missions? Training?” he echoed, his tone layered with disbelief.

“You really think we’re that busy? You think we’d just… forget about you?” He held your gaze, “Come on, sweetheart. You should know us better than that.” He glanced at Suguru, exchanging a wordless, intense look, sharing a silent conversation between themselves. Just as they always seemed to do. Suguru’s hand that had rested on your shoulder had drifted to your arm, his fingers brushing against your skin, lingering with an intent that was impossible to ignore. He leaned in a little closer, “We missed you,” he admitted softly-almost a whisper, though the subtle edge in his voice told you he wasn’t wholly satisfied with the answer you’d given. The gesture giving you whiplash from the previous tone of the conversation. “It’s been… strange without you around. Lonely.” The word slipped from him like a secret, his voice carrying a vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

You swallowed, the ache in your heart threatening to burrow further. The distance you’d thought would be manageable had weighed on them more than you’d realized, and the hint of desperation in both their words had stung, enunciating the fact that your absence hadn’t gone unnoticed as you’d hoped.

“I didn’t know it would… be like this,” you whispered, feeling the confession tumble out before you could stop yourself. Satoru stood up now, stepping into your space with an unsettling confidence. He leaned in close, so close you could see every fleck of color in his brilliant blue eyes. He seemed taller than you remembered—or maybe it had simply been that long since you’d last seen them. “You really thought you could just get married and… disappear?” You knew a threat when you'd heard one, and his tone of voice left now room for second guessing. You couldn't help the shiver that ran up your spine, reminding yourself that this was the same boy you’d once held close after a nightmare, his tear streaked face buried in your comforter. “You don’t just get to leave us like that. You can’t just drop out of our lives. We’re still here, aren’t we?”

You opened your mouth to somehow explain that things had changed now that you were married, but Suguru stopped you in your tracks, his hand brushing lightly over your collarbone, a touch that lingered just a bit too long, sending your heart racing. The meaning behind his actions-not entirely clear, yet there was an undeniable...intimacy to it, one that left you feeling strangely off-balance. Far too close for comfort. “We’re only here because we care,” he murmured, his voice soothing but insistent. “You don’t need to keep things from us.” He stood like a voice of reason. Like the good cop in this interaction, alleviating the harsh words Satoru spewed at you. Yes. Suguru could navigate most social situations. He knew just what to say and how to say it, even if Satoru didn't. They were tag teaming. Convincing you that this had not been a wise choice. Their tones punishing, yet soft enough to prevent you from closing off completely-

Their gazes met again, and the two shared a silent exchange, a flicker of understanding passing between them before Satoru’s smirk grew wider. Finally, stepping back and standing up straight, he gave you a sliver of space. Some breathing room, though his gaze remained fixed, unnervingly smug. His stare heavy, looking down at you. His voice dripped with mock sweetness. “So, tell us—how’s married life treating you?” he asked. “We’re absolutely dying to hear all about it.”

Whiplash. What the hell. You can't say you're completely surprised. The two had always been a troublesome pair. Perfect together, yes. But troublesome. Always keeping you busy. And always knowing how to get what they wanted. What did they want from you? Another apology? You begging? You hesitated, feeling a sense of vulnerability in the change in questioning. “It’s… fine,” you managed, your voice barely steady. “He’s… a good man,” you added, though the slight tremor in your voice didn’t escape their notice. You firmed yourself in your position, nodding along with yourself. They hadn't expected you to say something like that. Maybe some complaining? Maybe a request for them to take you home? But you seemed relaxed. You didn't seem to mind sharing your home with a stranger. With your husband.

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of dissatisfaction playing across his face as he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest, contemplative but unyielding. “A good man, huh?” tilting his head with an almost lazy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Funny, where is he now? Always leaving his new, little wife all alone?” His tone was sharp, but his actions feigning nonchalance, yet he was daring you to argue. To defend him. “Seems… pretty absent to me,” he added airily. Bored.

He couldn't be serious. Sure he might be upset with you for keeping your marriage a secret, but you weren't stupid enough not to see the open hostility he seemed to have for your husband. It still felt somewhat unwarranted. The way your husband was acting wasn't abnormal for a husband…right? The missions were part of his duty; you knew that much, even if it meant barely getting the chance to know him, your husband constantly whisked away before he could even settle back into life at home. Your relationship was shallow, even at face value. But he was still a person

Still, the thought crept in—how odd it was, this never-ending string of assignments. And how Satoru seemed to know about your husband's absence in the home. Especially when you refrained from talking about him in the first place. You look at Suguru, knowing he was the more level headed one of the two, hoping for some kind of control on Satoru's mouth. Suguru, however, seemed to have no intention of letting this slide.

Suguru’s hand tightened gently on your shoulder, his gaze softening but his voice steady, insistent. “You deserve someone who’s there for you,” his voice was as smooth as ever, his eyes meeting yours. “Someone who would put you above any mission, any duty.” His words struck a nerve, surprising you. Surely, The Suguru Geto wasn't belittling your husband for simply fulfilling his role as a shaman? But really, how would they even know about his increased assignments?

The words hung heavily between you, the weight of their shared focus making it hard to look away. They were both so close, their combined presence overwhelming, making you feel a strange mixture of familiarity and unease. The way they spoke, the way they watched you—as though they were challenging you to deny their support, to pretend you didn’t need them, to tell them to leave. You could almost feel the certainty radiating from them, that subtle insistence that seemed to imply they were the only ones who truly understood, the ones who’d be there, regardless of what anyone else thought. It was a weird sensation.

And maybe they were right. But this wasn’t exactly fair to your husband, was it?

You took a steadying breath, trying to ease the tension rising between you and the two of them. “It’s not fair to judge him like this,” you said, forcing a small smile. “He’s just doing what he’s been asked to do. It’s not like he’s choosing to be away.” You reminded yourself of your duty—the terms you had agreed to when you joined the Gojo clan. This marriage had been requested to strengthen ties with the Kamo clan, to bring about peace-and maybe for them to provide a few other benefits for your clan. And really, the man you married was mild-tempered at worst, a good match in every way. He wasn’t a bad man.

Your words seemed to hang, suspended in the charged silence. Satoru’s expression had shifted from mockery to something darker, his playful edge dulled by the hard gleam in his blue eyes. He studied you, jaw tense, his usual teasing still nowhere to be found. You almost felt scared.

“You’re defending him?” he asked, a boarding on mixture of disbelief and chill, a hint of jealousy just barely concealed. His gaze sharpened, almost accusatory, as if the very thought of standing up for your husband was the worst thing you could have done in that moment. “Tell me…you don’t actually… love him, do you?” The words lay in the air for a moment. Your pulse quickened as you struggled to respond. The intensity of his stare felt almost predatory, something raw and unsettled lurking just beneath the surface. You instinctively backed away, only to find yourself against Suguru, who steadied you, moving his other hand to rest snug on your waist.

Satoru’s bluntness had you reeling, leaving you scrambling for words, as you shook your head silently, unsure of your own movements. His tantrums from before noncomparable to this-“Satoru,” you began, reaching for a steady tone, hoping to comfort him. The familiar name feeling foreign on your lips. After all this time—another thing you’d kept carefully distant. You’d always refrained from using their first names, setting boundaries early on, convinced it was best, even though it felt slightly too formal. The clan head had warned you not to get too close, after all, but Satoru had always pushed back, testing that line with lighthearted, almost bratty tantrums, practically begging you to drop the formality. Only rarely did you give in, maybe a handful of times over the years, and yet here you were, saying it now to comfort him—just like before.

“It’s an arranged marriage. Love doesn’t exactly come into it right away.” You attempted to placate him, not knowing how to handle his uncharacteristic outburst. His stare softened only marginally at hearing his name fall from your lips. You hesitated, attempting another soft smile, the silence still deafening. “Please,” You don't know what you were pleading for exactly.

Satoru’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as though he hadn’t quite heard the words he wanted. He looked away, as if he couldn't bear to see you. Suguru remained beside you, hands in places they normally wouldn't be. His steady presence is as unyielding as ever, watching you with that same intensity, his fingers brushing your shoulder almost as if in silent support—or silent warning. You couldn't just shake him off right now.

This didn't feel right.

And Suguru’s silence was as intense as Satoru’s gaze. His eyes held that familiar, unreadable look, his unspoken judgment impossible to ignore. He definitely wasn’t pleased either.

“Love shouldn’t come into it at all,” Suguru’s voice was low laced with a tension that sent a chill down your spine. “This arrangement… never should have happened in the first place. They had no right to decide this for you. Not with us here.” The possessiveness in his tone was now unmistakable. If his touches didn't give it away, his tone of voice surely did. Was he really doing this now?

Satoru let out a frustrated scoff, his hand running roughly through his hair as if he could shake off his irritation. The charm he usually wore so easily was gone, replaced by a rawness that still managed to catch you off guard. “If I’d had any say in this,” he muttered, his tone holding an uncharacteristic bitterness, “you’d never have left the clan house, let alone gotten tangled up in this shit.” His gaze pinned you in place, his blue eyes glinting with something—something wounded, vulnerable. He seemed to grow desperate at the lack of your response. At the lack of your answers.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” He seemed to be clinging on desperately to his last thread, pleading, a flash of hurt breaking through his usual bravado. “To Suguru? To either of us? At any time, had you just said something-you couldn't have wanted this.” Right? The question lingered, an underlying ache, an unspoken need for reassurance, for an answer that could ease the turmoil you caused. His voice begged for your placation. Begged for an answer that would satisfy them.

“I… I…” Your voice faltered, caught in the swirl of emotions. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t anticipated feeling so cornered, so affected by the intensity of their focus. Satoru’s gaze remained fixed on you, unwavering, while Suguru’s steady presence beside you only added to the weight pressing down on your heart. His hand heavy. But it hit you. It finally penetrated your thick skull.

The heavy emotion in their voices and the weight of their gazes struck you back through the years you’d shared together. Reminding you once again just who you were talking to. How had you not pieced it together? Not noticing it before, only now, standing so close to them, you noticed all the subtle changes— In their actions. In their voices. In their build. They felt imposing, more like the men you’d seen glimpses of in the manga, and less like the boys you’d spent so many years watching over.

They've grown. And as dumb as this sounds, these are now, in fact grown ass men. Somehow, in your mind, they’d remained frozen in those younger years, the boys you could still think of as children, as wards, as brothers. You forget, you're not they only one aging. But now, there was a gravity in Suguru’s lingering grip on your waist-your collarbone, a fierce predatory hunger and desperation in Satoru’s gaze that had you questioning everything. Are they seeing an older sister being forced into an arranged marriage? No. That wasn't the expression a younger brother holds for his sister. And that's not the lingering touch a brother should have. You’d been their constant, their unwavering presence through everything—someone they could always rely on. It would make sense for them to see you as an older sister. But…

Before this, everything seemed to fall into place—that was, until the clan proposal blindsided you. The clan had given you a place, a purpose, and protection in this scary world, and with that came oaths and obligations you couldn’t refuse. The marriage was an arrangement, a duty you’d been forced into. You assumed a role that made you closer to them than any other clan member or servant. With only a few years separating you, you’d found a connection with them that no one else could. You had brought them together, raising them as brothers, childhood friends, ensuring they’d have a bond far earlier and deeper than the story had allowed.

When you’d first found yourself isekaied into Gaygay's world, your purpose had been clear: fuck as much shit up as you could-change the loneliness that had defined their past, fill their lives with warmth and support. This ripple will create the butterfly effect you so desperately hoped for. Piece by piece, you’d crafted a life for them that was closer to family, introducing them to each other, creating the foundation they needed to lean on each other—and, as time went on, on you. Shared dinners, afternoon outings, quiet nights, nightmares soothed, and shared beds on nights they couldn’t sleep alone. You’d become a trusted part of their world, and you hadn’t questioned what they might see in you. And how it might change.

Something cracked within you, a flood of emotions and unanswered questions welling up, leaving you now on the verge of tears. Standing between the two of them as they waited for the answer that might finally satisfy them, even as you struggled to grasp what had shifted between you all. The realization hit hard, leaving you reeling, your stomach twisting at the newfound clarity. All those years you’d brushed off their glances, ignored the intensity that sometimes crept into their words, or the way their hands would linger just a second too long—it all seemed painfully obvious now. But this attachment—this deep dependence—was the inevitable consequence of everything you’d done to shield them from loneliness. This was your fault. You had wanted them to find stability in each other, to grow up without the isolating weight that haunted their futures, to sidestep the darker paths you knew awaited them. To avoid their eventual deaths.

You’d always imagined yourself fading quietly into the background, a supportive figure as they grew into the powerful sorcerers you knew they’d become. They seemed well on their way to that future, standing shoulder to shoulder, inseparable and stronger than you’d ever dared to hope. But now, standing here under their unyielding gaze, you felt a different ripple of something you hadn’t expected—a need you weren’t sure you even could answer.

Standing before Satoru and Suguru, you could feel the weight of their oppressive concern. They weren’t ready to let you fade into the background; to them, your life had always been theirs to protect. You'd always been seen as weaker-someone to protect, yet so warm. So theirs. And somewhere along the way, without meaning to, you had become more important to them than you’d ever intended. You loved them. You loved them so much. More than their characters in a book. You knew them now.

Suguru broke through the silence, noticing your distant misty eyes, not wanting to lose you to your thoughts. His voice low, the barely contained frustration sending a shiver down your spine. “They had no right,” he murmured, his voice a fraction of a hair away from the shell of your ear, with a conviction that made it clear he was speaking for the both of them. “Not when we would have done anything—anything to keep you from being used like this.” he seemed to pity your situation. Pitying you. Vying to gain your attention back. They didn't want to see you cry. Ok maybe they did-But if it meant getting answers from you…taking you home… they'd probe as much as they needed to.

“I’m… I’m not being used,” your voice so small, the words sounding weak and wobbly. You knew they were empty, a hollow reassurance that didn’t fool anyone—not even yourself. You had been on the verge of tears before, and all it would take now, is one small kick in that dam.

The man you’d married was calm, steady—a safe choice. You try and convince yourself. Marrying into the Kamo family hadn’t been the worst outcome. not the best either. You knew the dangers that lurked in the darker corners of Jujutsu society and were aware of the possible fates that could have awaited you if the clan had made a different decision. In that sense, this marriage was practical, logical, clinical. And yet, thinking things over, every reason you’d given yourself for going along with it felt so...insubstantial. If your assumption of their 'hidden' feelings were accurate, it would make sense as to why they'd be so nasty about the situation. In this moment, you couldn't even remember why you'd gone along with it-you sense of duty slowly being forgotten yet creeping in the back of your mind.

“C’mon now, Doll.” Suguru’s voice was low, threaded with a taunting edge that sliced through the quiet, each word deliberate and laced with something that pinned you in place. The whisper against you ear had you shivering again. When the fuck did his voice get so-He moved over to meet your gaze with an intensity that was hard to meet, making you feel strangely small and fragile in his presence. Despite the fact that you were a few years older, his stance, his tone—it was all so… commanding. He’d never called you “Doll ” before. Satoru was usually the one to throw around the nicknames, playful and light. But this? From Suguru, it felt different—possessive in a way that unsettled you, yet damn near excited you. How did you even feel about this shift? The question barely had time to take root before he continued.

“You can’t be naive enough to believe the clan doesn’t have… ulterior motives marrying you off like that,” he continued, each word deliberate, dark eyes boring into yours with a gravity that made your stomach tighten. The accusation in his voice was sharper than you’d expected, laced with something almost akin to disappointment. It was as if he couldn’t believe you’d allow yourself to be manipulated, to be used by the clan without protest. The accusation sank in, filling the silence between you, leaving you scrambling for words that felt weak before they even reached your lips. “It’s not… it’s not as bad as you’re making it sound,” what were you saying? Why were you denying it?

“You’re not… happy here… right?” Suguru’s voice was low and smooth, his words more of a command than a question. The thought of you confirming your happiness with another man…His gaze expectant and unyielding, his eyes narrowing as he waited for a response. No. The question wasn't a question; it was a verdict, one he expected you to deny.

Before you could speak, Satoru’s voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with disdain. “Why would she be, Suguru?” he scoffed, his tone mocking, vicious. He couldn't help himself. Arms crossed tightly over his chest, he looked at you with a hard glint in his eye. “He’s weak. Can’t protect her to save his life. Hell, he’ll probably die within a few months with the missions they’re throwing him on. It’d be doing her a favor, really.”

The words were merciless, dismissive in a way that made it clear. Satoru wasn’t merely being critical—he was condemning the man, speaking about him as though he were nothing more than a shadow, something insubstantial, barely worth acknowledging. His gaze flickered to yours, once again-daring you to say something, to offer a defense he wouldn’t allow you to stand by. Daring you to object, to defend the man they both considered unworthy of you.

“Satoru’s right,” Suguru’s voice almost gentle, as if trying to ease you into his words. Still so coaxing, wearing you down. “You’ve always deserved someone strong. Someone who wouldn’t need protection himself.” He paused, watching your reaction closely. “Not someone who’s one mission away from being carried out on a stretcher.”

Suguru tilted his head, studying you with a faint frown, his expression soft but no less intense. “What exactly did you think you were gaining by agreeing to this?” he asked, voice calm but pointed. “A protector? A partner?” He shook his head, lips twisting in a faint smile. “They could have picked anyone, and they gave you… him. Someone who can barely stand his ground, let alone yours.” Suguru let out a soft, derisive chuckle, seeming to laugh at his own joke. “He’s pathetic, really,” murmuring, his gaze flicking back to you. He's gotten more dramatic over the past year. “The kind of man who clings to you because he knows he could never measure up otherwise. Do you really want to be tied to someone like that? Someone who only brings you down?”

You felt your throat tighten, the instinct to defend yourself—and, by extension only, your husband, but Satoru’s eyes flashed, once again daring you to challenge him. “Don’t tell me you think he’s worthy of you, Sweetheart,” he said, his tone almost mocking, the pet name laced with double meaning now, as though the mere idea were laughable. “Someone like him doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near you. Let alone breathe the same air as you. He’s nothing but a pawn, doing whatever they tell him. And you’re too good to be dragged down by someone so… disposable.”

Suguru chimed in, his voice much lighter, coaxing you to your own answer, as he leaned a bit closer. “We just want what’s best for you,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with the same underlying scorn. “You’re worth more than some mediocre man who can’t even hold his own. Someone who only got close to you because the clan handed you over like… property.”

“I… It’s not about that,” Shut up, you thought. You didn't even know why you were arguing. Why bother when what they're saying is true? You didn't want your husband to die. And with what you knew now, it seemed his assignments may not have been as random as you'd hoped. You needed a second to breathe. To think. You couldn't place your feelings for the two. Did you have those underlying feelings? maybe-yes

“Oh, isn’t it?” Suguru scoffed at your pathetic attempt to defend that weakling, the intensity in his eyes only growing. His chest right up against your back, staring down at you. Satoru crowding your front side. The two had you surrounded. Far too suffocating. “Tell me, Doll, would you trust him with your life? With your future?” That damn pet name was doing nothing to help your nerves. You felt pinned at this moment. The situation seems more…dangerous than it should.

You felt your resolve wavering under their combined scrutiny, their words pulling at the insecurities you’d tried to ignore, the doubts you’d shoved down for the sake of stability. “It’s not… he doesn’t need to prove himself,” you managed, “Not like that.” You wanted to dispel some of their hostility, but you seemed to be failing. Suguru’s gaze grew colder, a faint, disappointed sigh escaping him. “You’re defending him, again,” he said quietly, his tone laced with something that felt like reproach. “Why, exactly? What has he done to earn that from you?”

“What, is he good in bed or something?” Satoru’s words cut through the air, each syllable loaded with mockery that hit you like a physical blow. Your head quickly snapped to look up at him, your stare disapproving and awkward. The question and his tone felt so out of place, so direct, so vile, that you found yourself at a loss for words. His expression twisted in disgust, his nose wrinkling as though he could hardly stomach the thought, despite having put it into existence himself. “Ugh, to even think about that bastard’s hands on you…” His voice trailed off, eyeing you up and down as if he'd find your husband's traces on you. His tone filled with a revulsion that left you speechless. “He can’t be that good,” his tone a mix of disdain and something darker, possessive. “Not when he’s so weak. Wouldn't have the stamina to last longer than a minute.” He kept going. And going.

Caught off guard by the sheer bluntness of the question. Dumbfounded. Words failed you as you struggled to piece together a response, embarrassed and unsure of how to address the accusations he was piling on. You felt your face grow hot, the embarrassment creeping down your neck. “S-shut up,” you stuttered out, unable to meet his eyes. His vulgar words trailing around the room, harassing you. It almost seemed like he enjoyed making you so uncomfortable. He ignored you.

“Satoru,” Suguru interjected, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable edge. His face remained controlled, almost serene, but his dark eyes betrayed a smoldering intensity, a fire simmering just beneath the surface. He gave Satoru a nasty look, as if telling him to behave. He finally sided with you this time it seemed. His gaze met yours, searching, as though expecting you to confirm or deny Satoru's initial concern. Your sex life. Was that why you were here? He couldn't see any other possibility. No protection. Always away. No previous relationship established. An arranged marriage. One that they could have prevented.

Why were you still here? The thoughts stirred in Suguru's head making him more and more restless at the idea of Satoru being correct.

“Or,” Suguru finally said, ignoring Satoru’s pouty look as he continued muttering quietly to himself about your husband, and his supposed poor performance in bed, “maybe that's the reason you’re staying, huh?” He leaned in closer, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that what this is, Doll? He’s… keeping you around for other reasons? That weakling?” His voice far from friendly, giving way to something more devious and cynical. He was losing his patience. He'd only been wanting to hear it from you. What your reasoning was, but, like Satoru, he couldn't stand the thought of that limp dicked man fucking you.

The words made your heart race, and you could feel your embarrassment clawing its way up, threatening to betray you further. “I-I..-what-,” you stuttered, head down, and your fist clenching. Your voice sounded so small, as you fumbled through the turn in the conversation, obviously never having breached a topic like

this with them before.

Suguru’s hand reached out, warm and steady as it tugged your chin to face him. His touch was comforting in its own way, yet his expression still far from warm. He looked at you with a mixture of disappointment, curiosity, his dark eyes searching yours. “Really?” he drawled, his voice a low whisper. “Is that what this is? Because, from where we’re standing, he doesn’t seem like he’s offering you anything you couldn’t find elsewhere.” His thumb traced a gentle line along your lips, his gaze intense. “Or am I wrong?” He simpered.

Satoru’s hand came to rest on your other shoulder, his fingers warm, sending a shiver down your spine as he leaned in. “You’re a beautiful woman, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “You deserve someone who you wouldn't settle for, someone who could actually keep up with you… please you.” His lips quirked up in a smirk, voice suggestive. “And let’s be honest here… he isn’t that man.”

Your face flushed even deeper, caught between the two of them, their words pressing in on you, along with their looming figures. This conversation was growing painful, circling around and around. You felt like it wasn't going anywhere. Not that you could do much to help it. When they had a goal, they achieved it. “It’s… complicated,” your last attempt. Hoping they'd drop it. Hoping that that was the end. Why were you even bothering keeping your situation a secret? Your promises?

“Complicated?” Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as though the idea was ridiculous. “Oh, come on. It’s not that complicated. You’re married to a man who’s leagues beneath you. Do you really think he’s what you need? That he could satisfy you properly?” His gaze flickered over you, intense and unyielding, and you could feel the question hanging in the air, heavy and loaded. The question was uncomfortably intimate, each word laced with accusation. Satoru held your gaze, the silence stretching between you heavy and loaded, and you felt as though they could both see right through your hesitation. “If he’s everything you want… everything you need,” Satoru murmured, his voice soft, coaxing, “then why does it feel like you’re trapped?”

His words were gentle, soothing, and framing the accusation as your own. His eyes remained on you, steady and intense, and you felt the weight of his question press against your carefully constructed reasons. They were putting words into your mouth. You knew it. Yet you could admit, it did kind of feel as though you were trapped. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck, caught in your throat. Finally you kept your mouth shut. The intensity of their combined presence, their fingers brushing over your skin, the steady, unyielding weight of their gazes, made it hard to focus, hard to even think. You wanted to go home.

“Come back with us,” Satoru murmured, his voice smooth and persuasive, his hand slipping to cup your cheek, taking it from Suguru. He tilted your face up to meet his piercing blue eyes. “We’ll take you back to the clan house. We know we’ve… neglected you, left you to figure all this out alone. We won’t make that mistake again.” “B-but I can't defy the clan head…the higher ups…I promised-.” your voice came out somewhat strained. Satoru’s expression darkened as he ran a hand through his hair, a grimace tugging at his features. He had hoped to wiggle some confession from you. Wanted to see just where your heart lied, and whether it was worth killing off that waste of space husband of yours.

“And who do you think is running the clan now?” he grumbled, voice laced with frustration. Giving you an out. Tell them you want out of this marriage. You're shocked. The always so careless and flippant, Satoru Gojo had finally settled and taken hold of his responsibilities. Something you never wanted to pressure him into. He muttered under his breath, cursing the family he was supposed to lead—the family that had taken it upon themselves to marry you off without a single word to him, the heir. Until now, he’d distanced himself from the responsibilities that came with his title, choosing instead to focus on missions, on battles. But this—marrying you off without even a whisper in his ear—was a final insult. It disgusted him almost as much as the man they’d chosen for you. Spineless. Weak. Unworthy-

You swallowed. Before your marriage, both of them were constantly away on missions, caught up in their own responsibilities, and their time with you was sparse—a few hours here and there, sometimes together, but more often than not just brief moments in passing. After the marriage, your interactions dwindled even further as the clan pushed you to focus on your new “duties” and distance yourself from your past.

His words sound tempting. A promise to take you home. To your familiar room. But what would happen then? Seeing your resolve finally waver, and your decision within reach, their interrogative assault seemed to be finally over. They would seal the deal. You gain reprieve from their questions and smothering gazes, as they seemed somewhat back to normal. Their eyes filled with nothing but warmness and affection towards you. Maybe it would be better to just go back to the clan house and let Satoru deal with the aftermath. He was still the strongest. What was really so wrong with letting him deal with the higher ups? Backing out of your duties. Out of your promises. “Maybe…” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, the words trailing off as you struggled to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within you, you avoid their gazes. You did love them. It was part of your reasoning for making those changes in the story. What would happen when you got home? The question repeating itself in your head. They hadn't necessarily confessed to the feelings they'd shown on their sleeves. The idea of going back to the clan house, of letting Satoru handle the consequences, seemed like a relief, a way to escape the uncertainty and pressure you’d been feeling.

Satoru’s hand remained on your cheek, his touch warm and constant, as he leaned in for a hug. Finally embracing you. Sealing the deal. You hadn't realized just how much you missed their hugs. “It’s not complicated, Sweetheart. Just come with us. We’ll take care of everything, handle the fallout, make sure you never have another worm sleeping next to you ever again.”

You let out a soft laugh at this, finding such comfort in his arms at that moment. He was serious, despite his fronting it as a joke. You'd never be marrying another man, aside from himself and Suguru. Suguru’s remained behind you, falling into the hug you shared with Satoru. “You don’t have to carry the weight of this alone,” he said softly, his gaze holding yours with a steady, unyielding warmth. “We’ve always been stronger together, haven’t we?”

You felt a sense of ease wash over you, the tension that had been knotting your stomach slowly unraveling in the warmth of their words, the gentleness of their touch. With them, the pressure and expectations seemed to slip away, replaced by a comforting familiarity that made the decision feel… inevitable.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmured, feeling yourself give in, surrendering to the gentle coaxing in their voices, the promise of stability and support that lay within their eyes. The clan house, with them by your side, suddenly felt like the only place you truly belonged.

p. 2

come home

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no-nameno-face · 2 years ago

Text

Taken Care Of Audio (read story first)

TAKEN CARE OF (WITH AUDIO)

Pairing: Reader x Ellie Williams

Summary: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact. You will be blocked. Ellies had a long, hard day on patrol, and after stitching her up she requests some TLC.

Warnings: Smut heavy, sub!reader, dom!ellie, face riding (E!receiving), oral (E!receiving), masturbation (R!), cum eating (kinda)? Praise kink, minor blood kink, pain kink, stitches, boob play (E!receiving), first time smut writing, did not proof read (but probably should have...)

Author's Notes: Soooo I've never written smut before, lmfao. I made the audio first, for my thirsty Ellie girls on tiktok but this audio got a bit… out of hand (wayyy too graphic) so I didn't want to post it on there. I had a whole scenario in mind with the audio so I figured I might as well write it down and share it here. I am also very obsessed with Ellie receiving so I subconsciously brought that to life while editing the audio. I know it's not great, but it was very fun to make and write soo.. Please be nice to me, I'm sensitive. Lol. (I put in the story when the audio clip applies, the story starts with context) I’d like to improve my writing cause this was a good time so any advice would be appreciated!!

I hear the door downstairs creak open and shut, a bit louder than normal. I can track the footsteps marching to the stairs and I listen with a small smile as the thuds make their way up. I hear soft profanities getting closer. Ellie is home.

Sitting on our bed I turn my head right in time to see the door open, grinning at her as she walks in. She has that crease in her brow that I recognize as her tell-tell sign that she had a shit day. She shoots me a sly glance before looking away to take her flannel off leaving her in a white tank, dirty and disheveled she pulls it over her head.

My eyes trace down her back, scarred and bruised. Muscular, and toned. Heart flutters, and a familiar heat builds. It's crazy how after all these years just seeing her still triggers these primal feelings. She just does something to me. She always has. My eyes stop wondering when I see a deep fresh cut following the curve of her hip.

“Shit els? What happened” I get up and pace towards her keeping my eyes on the wound.

She bends over pulling her shoes off, losing her balance a bit and mumbling a frustrated “fuck” under her breath. Now behind her, I prod at the gash and she swears again. I can feel her flinch.

“I'll go get the stitches, sit down.” I say pulling her to the bed. She hits the bed with a thud and leans her elbows onto her knees.Shaking her head “it's not that bad babe, im fine.” She looks up at me and gives a half-hearted smile.

“I know you're fine,” I say, giving her a gentle look “I just don't want it to get infected, okay?”

“Anything you say doc” she says with a smirk before turning to address the cut herself. She touches it lightly and winces when her fingers make contact. I head to the bathroom across the hall from our room and grab the small white kit from the medicine cabinet, and make my way back to our room. She's still sitting at the end of the bed, now rolling her neck side to side.

I plop on the bed behind her, “okay, are you gonna tell me what happened now?” trying to distract her as I begin stitching the gash closed. Her back flexes and I hear her sharp intake of breath. Heart flutters.

“Fucking stalkers. I hate those things” she says, shaking her head and looking up to the ceiling. “I was on patrol,”

“With Jesse right?”

“Don't remind me,” she says with a scoff that is cut off by another huff as I add a new stitch. Damn. Every breath in sync with the sutures releases a morbid butterfly into the pit of my stomach. “Yeah, I was on patrol with jesse. We were checking out that one restaurant by the lodge, and I found an entrance to the attic. That place has been cleared out for like forever, so I went up on my own and got jumped by a stalker.” she shrugged her shoulders. “Fucking thing nailed me into an old piece of plywood. Piece of shit.” I tie her last stitch off, and give her a gentle pat to tell her she was finished. I got up and made my way to the bathroom to put the kit back.

I turned in the doorway on my way out, “Maybe you should’ve been more careful.” She swings her head at me with squinted eyes. I shrug and turn, heading to the bathroom “just saying!”

“Fuck off” she calls back, I lightly laugh.

Back in the bedroom, she's lying on her stomach, head resting on her hands. “And then of course Jesse had to give me a fucking lecture about not going anywhere on my own, team communication! All that bullshit.” She turns onto her side propping herself up with one arm, “I’m just so fucking over it.” she looked absolutely exasperated. Oh how I love her dramatics. I sit facing her and her free hand falls to my hip. She looks at her hand, then up to me. Those green eyes, familiar and warm. Home. I smile at her.

“That sucks. I'm sorry. I mean Jesse should know by now, there's no getting through that thick skull of yours. What's a lecture gonna do?” I smirk at her.

“Ouch.” she sneers at me, one brow up. She lets out a quiet laugh, and looks back down to her hand on my waist. “Thanks for stitching me up babe.”

“You know I don't mind.” I say casually. She smiles, an inside joke painting a picture on the walls of her thoughts.

“So weird that you're into that.” she chuckles

“I'm not into that.. I just..” her eyes darted to mine. My heart pounded in my ears. She's right, but it was just so blunt. “There's just something about a strong woman who needs my help.” I say fawning innocent eyes, partially joking, but subconsciously egging her on. She sees right through me.

She raises her eyebrows, taking her hand from my hip and pushing herself up so she's sitting opposite of me. She smiles, “so stupid.” her eyes drift down to my lips, then back to me. I feel red flush my cheeks. Her gaze darkens slightly, noticing. She tilts her head looking at me. “I mean it's okay that you are, i'm not kink shaming” Her hand meets my thigh, electric, and she gives me a sideways smile. I gape at her, trying to make light of the tension building between us.

“So you like taking care of strong women? Yeah?” she says quietly with a smile in her voice as her eyes trace down my body to her hand. Her thumb started circling the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Funny, you're normally the one that begs to be'' she looks up at me teasingly “taken care of.” Fuck. I feel heat pool in my belly. My knees squeeze together by their own volition. She feels it and her teasing gaze turns to something else as her eyes shift to them. She bites her lip subtly. This woman.

Her hand moves to the button of her pants, “well i did have a hard day,” she undoes it and glances at me with an evil smile. “And since you enjoy taking care of strong women” she pulled on her zipper. “Mind doing me a favor?”

Jesus Christ.

“What do you have in mind?” I say, wide eyed. I try to sound cool but my voice comes out hungry. Starved. I watch the switch flip in Ellie's eyes at my words.

“Take your shirt off.” she demanded with raised brows, and before I could think I was pulling her baggy shirt I was lounging in over my head. I'm left sitting there topless, with nothing but my black underwear on. She rolled famished eyes over my bare skin for what seemed like an eternity. Her eyes settled back on mine. I fidgeted my hands in my lap, feeling suddenly too vulnerable. She leans in slowly without breaking eye contact and my breath catches. Inches from me she whispers “Take off my pants.”

Immediately I am in her service, at her beck and call. She knows all she has to do is ask. I'll do anything for her. She leans back onto her hands and lifts her hips slightly as I peel her jeans down the soft, yet lean, curves of her hips. Down her thighs, over her knees, and then calves, my eyes tracing every line of her legs. I toss them on the floor, and look back up to her awaiting further instruction. Her eyes are smiling with a dark inflection.

“Lay down.” I looked at her confused, thinking I was the one taking care of her. Her tone was not a question however, so I obliged. I centered myself on the bed and pulled the nearest pillow under my head, keeping my eyes on her as she stood up and took her white boxers off. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her. Pretty, untamed. My knees squeeze, I don't try to hide it. She looks at them, and scans back up to my eyes. She stares into me as she walks around the bed to my side. I bite at my nail anxiously.

“I want you to take care of me, make me feel good m’kay? Can you do that for me?” she asks with a small smile. I nod.

She looks over me once again (START OF AUDIO) “fuck, you look so pretty.” She climbs onto the bed, looking at me like prey to a predator. “Be a good girl for me” she whispers, as she swings one of her legs over my head. Shit, I get it now. Her pussy meets my lips and she lets out a soft “fuck” at my eager mouth. My arms wrap around her thighs, hands gripping soft flesh. She starts to move, pleasuring herself on my tongue. She moans softly, “needed this” she says desperately as her eyes drift close and her head drifts to the ceiling. Her taste envelopes me, her wetness growing by the second with the addition of my saliva wetting her folds.

“Okay,” she moans, picking up her pace, grinding against my face. She looks down at me, before her eyes dart shut “There!” I feel her body pulse at the peak of her thrusts and I know she's found her spot. Her bud flicking roughly over my tongue. “Oh shit.. There. There we go” she continues at her pace for a moment. Her pulsing getting stronger. Her eyes snap open and peer at me “Jesus, you feel so good.” she says as her head rolls back and her eyes closed again. She continues her rhythm as I pull my arm from under her leg and skim my hand up her body “okay” she says lost in the sensation. My palm cups her right breast and I squeeze impatiently, then rub a loving thumb over her nipple, circling it. “Damn… yeah” she sighs then her hand meets mine and squeezes the sensitive flesh with me “Baby just like that.” she bites her lip with a whispered “fuck” as she rides my face.

Her moans and the graphic sound of her wetness fill the room. I reach my other hand down into my underwear and begin circling my own clit firmly, unable to avoid the tension building within my own body. “Fuck me.” she whines into the air, before looking down to me with adoring eyes, “that's my good girl.” her eyes tighten, “lets go” she whispers as she begins to grind harder and faster into my mouth. “Come on.” My hand on my core meets her pace. “Good. There. Okay. There we go” I love how she talks mindlessly when we fuck. Her voice is enough to bring me closer to my own apex. I begin moaning beneath her, unable to contain my own pleasure. She looks down at me “shhhh shh shh shh” she hushes as she pulls my hand from my aching clit before I can reach my undoing. I whimper in disappointment as she pulls my arm from beneath her leg and takes my other one from her chest before pinning them above my head in her strong hands, deepening her weight into my face. “Shut up” she corrects.

Her rhythm continues and I can tell the new pressure she's added is building her quickly. “God damn.” she says as her eyes squeeze shut. “Okay” That same wrinkle between her eyes deepens again, this time out of pleasure. She rides harder pushing the back of my head further into the pillow. Her moans grow louder, more animalistic. her hands on my wrists tighten to the point that I am sure that there will be a mark. “Holy fuck” she gasps. She pushes hard against me and I can feel the pulse intensify, her sounds grow and grow until suddenly her hands let go of my wrists and bury deep into my hair, pushing me even further into her just at the right time when her head falls back in quiet breathy moans, she rides out her high on my mouth. Her legs shaking and clit pounding as I suck against it, encouraging her. Tasting her. Worshiping her. She lets out a whimpering breath at the end of her climax and looks down at me beneath her. “Oh my god babe.” She slowly lifts off of my face and I see her flinch slightly at the air touching her sensitivity. She takes a breath before looking at me with a lazy smile.

“All right. Your turn.”

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie smut #ai audios #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie x y/n

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askinkiskarma · 2 years ago

Note

This one is a bit smutty...Just a little lol. But !

Okay ! Imagine Neteyam being passed the title as the new olo'eyktan (Just to say that I have no idea when it is done. Like at a certain age or if mate is preg ? I don't know :P)

Him being very very stressed and all. So... they haven't been doing it for a moment (He's not really it the mood). And like one time, in the middle of the night he wakes up with a huge and hard one (He tries to ignore it but of course it doesn't work). He's like really needy and desperate to relief himself but for some reason he refuses to do it alone. Shortly after his mate wakes up because she feels him moving on the mat and hears muffled breathings (panting). And the rest is up to you !

It's kinda kinky haha :× Some slight subby Nete and maybe soft dom in the end :3

Anyways have sweet dreams tonight 💕🌌😴🌙And love your writing ! Muah*

this kinda got away from me hahahah

thank you bby, i really loved this actually! hope you enjoy x

wc: 1.8k words

warnings: smut (p in v, oral - m receiving, squirting, switch!Neteyam, overstimulation, choking) 18+ minors DNI

After some 20 years of incredible rule, it was finally time for Jake to step down as Olo'eyktan. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of going on, it was that it was more and more obvious by the day that Neteyam was ready. He was ready to step in his father's shoes, he was ready to fulfil the destiny that he was born into, that he had worked for tirelessly, every day of his 20 year long life. His father had no doubt in his mind that he would be the best clan leader the Omatikaya had ever seen, a sentiment shared among most of the villagers.

You were incredibly proud of your mate. He was the youngest Olo'eyktan the Omatikaya ever had, and he was more than raising to the challenge. It was an honour to be his mate, it was a privilege watching him be the person you always knew he was, the leader everyone had reason to look up to, the man of your dreams.

Unfortunately, the praise, the title and the status also came with so much burden, so much stress and responsibility, it was hard for either of you to keep up, hard for him to navigate, to find a balance. So recently, Neteyam has been distant and withdrawn, burying himself in work and strategies, being the first one to rise and the last one to sleep. He wanted to be a good leader, and he believed that a good leader should be an example for his people, should be the one that works the hardest, should be the one that continuously strives to be better and do better for his clan.

You barely saw him anymore, much less spent time with him, felt him, touched him, had him. You refused to intervene, though. Neteyam was a well of depth sometimes even you weren't capable enough to swim in, and you knew that when he was ready to talk to you, to let you in, he would. He always did, eventually. He just needed time.

Neteyam was exhausted. Turns out he owed his dad a million apologies for all the times he thought him cold, or unwieldy, or detached from reality or his family. Turns out he was just worried, and stressed and feeling the overbearing weight of so many lives depending on him to lead, to choose, to make the best decisions, and that was no easy task. Neteyam missed you. He felt guilt and sadness enwrap him tightly at the thought. He's always had time for you. You were his priority always, and yet he knew he didn't make good on that recently.

You have always been so in love with each other, so obsessed with each other, so into each other that the rest of the world felt middling and insignificant by comparison. Neteyam could pinpoint the stars in the sky in your eyes, the thrill of tumultuous waters in the colour of your skin, the bioluminescent beauty of Pandora in your eyes, the transcending comfort of the earth in the colour and feel of your hair. You were his world. You encapsulated everything he loved about it, about life, and he loved you, he needed you, he craved you more than he'd ever be able to describe.

The thought of you as he drifted off to sleep led him to dream about you, his mind transposing him to a reality he desired desperately, but which time didn't allow at the moment. He felt you, your taut, lean body writhing underneath him as his hands trailed it hungrily, as his lips claimed your mouth, as he took orgasm after orgasm, the lewd sounds escaping you music to his ears. The dream dissipated slowly, much to his disappointment, leaving him a panting mess, his cock twitching, hurting against his now too-tight loincloth.

"Fuck."

You were fast asleep in Neteyam's arms, your soft, steady breaths the only thing that could be heard in your shared tent. Your ass was pressed snugly against Neteyam's groin, furthering his pain and incessant need to just take you and fuck you until you both passed out in exhaustion, blissfully spent.

The sound of quiet moans woke you up from your dream-filled slumber, wet dreams haunting your mind recently, the only way you got to experience the release you needed desperately. Your eyes widened slightly when you realised the dream spilled onto your reality, and the sounds came from your mate, who seemed like he was in pain. You turned around hurriedly, only to find him sprawled on his back, long slender fingers wrapped around his thick length. The heat you felt within your womb spread like wildfire all within you, awakening your senses and focusing them on him, on his beautiful face contorted in pain, on his pheromones that inundated your nostrils, on the way the pronounced veins running down his arm were more accentuated with the grip he had on his cock, and God, what an incredible sight that was. Your mouth filled with saliva taking it all in, at the memories of all the times his dick made you see stars, at the thought of how he would again tonight, after so long of being without it. He was a god among men, and you had him. You owned him. Maybe it was time he was reminded of it.

"Neteyam... if you needed help, all you had to do was ask."

His moans increased in volume as you wrapped your fingers around him and started pumping him with slow, languid motions. He was rock hard under your touch, white liquid pooling at the tip, and you couldn't help but accept the silent invitation, bringing your lips to it and kissing him softly, throbbing deep inside of you at the way he was coming apart at the seams around you.

"Baby, please..."

"Patience, my love."

You took as much of his impressive length in your mouth as you could, feeling him deep in your throat, eyes watering as the pressure made you gag slightly. You started a slow, purposeful bob of your head, taking your time, feeling every vein, every ridge, every striation of his cock, learning him by heart, imprinting him in your mind. You loved this man, and as much as you loved when he rutted into you like an animal in heat, there was nothing that compared to the thrill of the power that came with seeing him putty in your hands, in your mouth, in you. As the ache you felt continued to rear its ugly head, you let go of him with a small pop and straddled his thighs, aligning yourself easily and rubbing his tip in between your soaked folds, moaning at the contact, craving the way he filled you up in the way only he ever could.

Your synced gasps made your cunt clench around him as you lowered yourself slowly, until you bottomed out, until you could feel him deep in you, so deep that a small bump was formed in your abdomen, that you revelled at, that you wanted him to. You took his hand in yours and placed his palm on the spot, moaning at you started grinding on him leisurely.

"Feel that, my love? Feel how deep in me you are, how good you fill me up? I feel your cock in my guts, baby."

You felt the growl he released deep in your soul, its intensity leaving you breathless, and you allowed the feeling to overtake you, as the atmosphere in the room changed suddenly, and so did his demeanour. Your words snapped something in him, because his eyes darkened so much, you could barely see any discernable yellow in them anymore, and you barely registered the way he grabbed you roughly and flipped you until you were on your back, his cock still buried inside you. You gasped loudly at the way your body made contact with the ground and at his look, feral and untamed, and it would have scared you if it wasn't so fucking hot, so primal and raw, so erotic and so, so necessary. His hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed until there was no air in your lungs anymore, until your head went dizzy, until your insides churned in need.

"You make me fucking crazy. How did I go so long without your tight little cunt wrapped around my cock, huh?"

Without warning, he starts a ruthless pace, knocking you back with every animalistic thrust, keeping you in place roughly by your throat, until your cervix was battered and bruised, until you came around him once, twice, three times. You were crying from overstimulation, from the high of the intermittent asphyxiation, from how his brutal actions were antithetic to his gentle caress of your cheek or the occasional peck on the forehead in between orgasms.

"Neteyam, I can't anymore -"

"Yes, you can, my love. One more. Just one more and then you can sleep. You're doing so well for me, baby."

He brought a hand to your thighs, bringing them over his shoulders and the new angle was allowing him to drag his cock on your G-spot repeatedly, making your vision blurry and your core throb yet again, the familiar feeling pooling in you once more, more acute than any of the previous. His thumb was circling your clit, and the pressure was too much, it was so good, it was heaven and hell, it was everything and not enough.

"There you go, baby, I can feel you squeezing my cock again. You gonna milk me? You gonna be a good girl and take my cum, let me fill this pretty pussy up? Gonna smell like me for a whole week, huh?"

"Y-yes, fuck yeah!"

"You like having my cum drip down your thighs for all the village to see, huh? Like everybody knowing you're getting fucked by the Olo'eyktan?"

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head at his words and you squirted all over your mate as the most intense orgasm you've ever had in your life washed over you, leaving you convulsing around him until your body was limp and your mind blank. He came with a moan, ropes of thick cum painting your pink walls and spilling down your ass and onto the fabric of your mat. He didn't pull out, not for a long time, collapsing on top of you instead, kissing your face and down your neck softly, like a whisper or warm hug. You loved how he was the best of both worlds, how he cherished you, how he always made sure you were ok, how he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, about how amazing you were, about how well you did for him, how you were his world and his brightest star, the love of his life, the best thing that has ever happened to him.

You were both spent and on the brink of sleep when you spoke serenely.

"So... did you only want to become Olo'eyktan so you can use that line on me or...?"

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