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coconutdays · 11 months

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seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto fluff #jjk suguru #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto smut #suguru smut #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

12K notes · View notes

deadsetobsessions · 5 months

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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 7

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“I’m having a child.”

Danny stared at Batman.

“…Uh, congrats?”

Batman whips out a stack of paper and a pen. “It’s you. Sign here and initial the highlighted spots.”

Danny instinctively, from years of dealing with Vlad, whacked the stack right out of Batman’s hands and into the bay. He doesn’t even feel bad about littering this time because, “Begone, fruitloop!”

Wait, no, that’s not what he meant.

“I mean- I have parents!”

“Not for long.” Batman muttered and then did a double take. “You have parents? How?”

Danny gasped, placing a hand on his chest to clutch his metaphorical pearls. He ignored Batman’s mutters. Everyone knows the vigilante has an adoption problem. At least, everyone who lived in Gotham did, as everyone who didn’t was somehow convinced that he “worked alone” or some bullshit like that. “Are you naturally this insensitive or were you dropped on your head as a baby? Obviously I had to come from somewhere.”

“They’re still… alive?”

“And kicking,” Danny said, inching away from yet another rich weird guy trying to adopt him. “Mostly the kicking part, though.” He said, remembering the sparring sessions. His mom could kick his as six ways to Sunday with nothing but jiu-jitsu and still have time to work in the lab.

“I see.”

“I’m charging you extra for the emotional upheaval. I have trauma regarding rich people trying to adopt me.”

Batman sullenly handed over a thousand.

“Sweet. There’s a group of shades down here asking if you could find their murderer. Apparently the serial killer is still at large.” Danny pointed.

“Of course. Tell me everything.”

The adoption papers disappeared as Batman went into detective mode.

Danny shoved the cash into his glowing chest and breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to make rent this month so it was a windfall running into Batman.

——

“Hey, Tim?”

Tim woke up from his Power Nap. “Huh?”

“Phantom’s complaining that Batman kept trying to adopt him.”

Tim blinked. “Uh.. what does that have to do with me?”

Danny stared at him, a patiently amused smile on his face. “Just in case the rumor about the Wayne’s sugar-daddy-into the Bats was a thing. Other than that, we might have to confront Batman to get him off of Phantom’s back. ”

“You… want to confront Batman.”

“Hey, man, Phantom’s a friend and it’s ride or die.” Danny snickered. It was literally die, with his Phantom side of things. He held two fists up, and wound them, like Popeye right after eating spinach or something. “And if Batman bothers Phantom, we ride at dawn.”

“Batman doesn’t come out unless it’s dark, though? Or for the Justice League.” Tim grinned. He mentally classified Danny under his “to go to” list. That’s where Bart, Bernard, Cassie, Kon, and Garfield were. If he starts shit, he could count on them to have his back and cause even more shit. Danny, wanting to fistfight Bruce over the man making Phantom uncomfortable? He absolutely is making that list.

“Then we ride at, like, dusk. Or uh, like 10PM. I gotta get my beauty sleep.”

“You’ll definitely need it,” Tim inconspicuously texted the group chat, which quickly blew up.

“Shut up,” Danny playfully shoved Tim. “Wait, can Batman even legally adopt? Isn’t being a vigilante illegal? And how can he adopt someone dead?”

Tim dramatically flailed and splayed over Danny’s carpeted living room. “Dunno about his identity,” he lied to Danny, like a liar. “But Gotham has a bunch of laws for the undead/restored to life people so there’s probably enough gray space there.”

Danny spluttered. “You guys have undead friendly laws?”

“Yeah, geht do you think Grundy just chills out? Plus, we have like a minor resurrection event every few years. It usually doesn’t stick but sometimes it does. Bruce pushed for those laws when Jason came back to life, except he doesn’t actually want people to know he’s like, alive.”

“Jason died?” Danny blinked. Well, that would explain the vibes. “Huh. So what’s up with his rank vibes then?”

“Rank vibes?” Tim pressed record on his phone.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, you know how Phantom’s got like a really chill green vibe?” Inwardly, Danny snickered at his pun. Chill. Yeah, he meant that very literally. “Jason’s got kind of a rank green vibe. He’s kind of stinky? Definitely never introduce him to Phantom.” Danny’s senses got worse in his ghost form.

“Jason regularly showers, though?!”

“Not smell! Like, a spiritual smell?”

“You can smell souls?!” Tim sat up. “Bro, you’re a meta?!”

“Uh.” Danny hesitated. “Yeah. I can smell souls. It’s a thing. Everyone from my town can do it.”

“What?!” Tim paused. “Wait, can Phantom smell souls?”

“Yeah. We’re, uh, from the same town.”

“Danny, what the fuck?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, you’re the one with a soul-sick brother! Not to mention, you’re kinda stinky too!”

“Hey!”

“Soul-stinky nerd man!”

——

“I stink?!” Jason spluttered out, extremely offended.

“The Lazarus pits. He’s most likely smelling traces of Lazarus pit on you, you imbecile.”

“We need to speak to Phantom. This instant.”

“I dunno, B. Danny sounded like he was gonna break your face if you bothered Phantom anymore.” Dick snickered.

“Yeah,” Tim chimed in, from his seat in front of the Bat-computer. “He was pretty serious.”

“Are we just gonna glaze over the fact that they’re from the same town?!” Stephanie exclaimed, practicing her moves on a training dummy.

“How does that even work? What does that mean? I thought Phantom was an immortal?” Duke asked.

“We also can’t rule out time-travel.” Barbara slammed her baton into a training dummy, twisting her wheelchair in an agile maneuver that left the dummy on the floor.

“No bothering Phantom.” Cass proclaimed.

“That’s quite right. You all have a warm dinner sitting above your cave and should it remain uneaten, I assure you that sherbet Sunday and crêpe Tuesday shall be canceled.” Alfred stepped in. The Bats, threatened, scrambled to ditch their gear and go upstairs.

#Danny: not another adoption!#Vlad and Bruce trying to adopt Danny even though he’s got parents:🤝#batman #danny phantom #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dc x dp #bamf danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #dcxdp crossover #sea cryptic! danny au

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lovegasmic · 7 months

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SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN.

⋆ suguru geto, choso kamo, satoru gojo + fem!reader.

⋆ mdni. college au kinda. fingering, cunilingus, dry humping, choso + shy reader, making out, ‘just the tip’ satoru cums in your panties, dirty talk. usage of sweetheart, baby, babe, princess, angel.

ִֶָ SUGURU

Suguru’s not shy in the slightest, often smacked in the back of his head from the dirty looks he gives your cute ass under the tight little skirt you wore to the party. a couple of drinks in and he’s thanking the world for the chance to be locked in a cramped closet with the pretty girl who caught his eye.

“fuck, sweetheart, you’re dripping” he murmurs against your cunt, two fingers knuckle deep and his tongue continuously flicking over your clit. the closet’s carpeted floor burns in your back where your shirt rise, up your neck for his fingers to occasionally pinch a nipple in between keeping your thigh spread for him to feast on your spasming pussy. Suguru would lie if he said he didn’t dream about this moment, grateful for the opportunity even though he would have found a way to bend you over the bathroom sink.

his eyes are hooded, cock pulsing and dribbling precum all over the front of his boxers solely from the satisfaction of having you gush all over his tongue and digits. “you’re always this wet? or just excited because it’s me?” he teases, breath direct against the flutter of your cunt seconds before his tongue is gliding between your puffy lips, alternating between licking and slurping on your clit until your thighs shake.

“feels good” you sniffle, eyes crossed and chest heaving from the intensity, from the agonizingly slow drag of Suguru’s fingers inside your walls.

“’m glad, baby” he smirks, face fully buried in your cunt, his once slow and steady rhythm now sloppy and eager, forcing the wet sounds of your pussy to resonate through the room as he eats you like it’s the best fucking meal he has ever tasted. your time is running low, and Suguru will make sure you walk out of the closet with wobbly legs.

ִֶָ CHOSO

although forced by Yuuji, Choso is not quite mad he ended up in the current situation.

he thinks you look so pretty, so fucking pretty in that outfit, allowing his eyes to trail down the shape of your body much like he often does while you walk past him in class. “you look good” he finally manages to croak out after a whole minute of sitting side by side in the closet your friends pushed you into.

“thank you,” you murmur with your fingers twiddling shyly, and Choso feels his cock throb, “i’m glad you decided to come.”

“yeah?” his voice drops, pulled closer to your side like a magnet, eager to hear more, “why is that?” driven by a sudden burst of self confidence, Choso slides a hand to your thigh, briefly brushing the fabric of your pants.

“y-you seem like a nice person” you stutter in return, chest thumping and pussy wetting at the touch, at the low raspy and breathy tone in his voice, “wanted to know you better”

‘cute’ the black haired thinks, tentatively allowing his warm lips to brush your jaw as you stutter, eyes unconsciously landing on your cleavage, fuck..., how he wished to rip your shirt open in the spot, cup your pretty tits in his hands and make you cum from his tongue on your nipples.

"feelings’ mutual, babe” Choso groans, unable to stop his hand from reaching your cheek and tugging your face gently towards his, the touch of your lips on his is almost immediate, sloppy and messy with tongues clashing, saliva wetting the bottom of your lip that drops and stains your flowy shirt.

you’re too good to him, he thinks, and you deserve better than a quick fuck in a closet, so much against his inner lewd thoughts about savagely tasting your pussy, he tugs you up, lips still attached as your ass land on his clothed cock, begging to be freed and release inside or all over you.

but this will do for now, he just wants to make you feel good, he needs you to feel how much he craves for you; Choso might think he’s going slow, but the broken cries and whimpers increasing in intensity with each drag back and forth of his hands on your hips prove otherwise, grinding you nice and directly against his pulsing member. addicted to your moans, to your sounds, Choso can’t wait to become addicted to your cunt too.

ִֶָ SATORU

“lean back against the door, princess... mm, yeah, that’s perfect” Satoru grins, tongue poking on the side of his cheek at the perfect sight of your pliant body, cutely leaning back for his eyes to take in the sight of your pussy swallowing his cock head, panties pushed aside enough for the fat size of him to comfortably get enveloped by your walls. ‘just the tip’, he promised, mentally kicking himself for the teasing he brought on himself.

he needs to fuck you nice and deep, to bury the whole girth of his cock inside your warm inviting pussy,— but he won’t, Satoru promised to keep it light, just the tip... for now, and it’s hard to resist when you look at him with that slight glazed over gaze, lips glossy, puffy from the intense make out session you had just a couple of minutes ago, spread for huffs of air to come out.

but of course, when Satoru wants something, he’ll do his best in trying to get it.

“it’d be so easy, to pull your hips down and slide my whole cock inside...” Satoru tuts, sliding his thumb across your belly until it lands on your folds, rubbing on your engorged, glistening clit, “wouldn’t you like that baby? to take me whole inside this tight cunt of yours?”

“you promised” you whine in return, slowly circling your hips on his cock, dribbling slick all over his length until it coated his balls and most likely the floor underneath.

“tsk” the blue eyed retorts, continuing his assault on your clit while occasionally bucking his hips up, just slightly, but how can you blame him when you feel just too good, too warm and slick, almost begging to be pounded, “’kay, but at least i’ll make you cum on my cock” he groans, using the hand that isn’t on your clit to rub at the same pace on your nipples, bringing them to full hardness under his ministrations, “your body is so responsive, angel, so fuckin’ sexy” it comes with a buck of his hips, making a dragged cry to come out of your lips, thighs shaking from the effort of maintaining yourself in a hovered position, “you gonna cum? I can feel you twitching” the constant previous teasing got you to the edge in a matter of minutes, arching your back in a beautiful way that makes Satoru groan appreciatively, “fuck, yeah, so hot”

the cry of protest comes almost unconsciously at the same time he pulls his tip out of your still convulsing cunt, fixing your panties before sliding his cock through a leg opening, eagerly rubbing on your mound and sensitive clit until the crotch of your underwear got translucent by the amounts of mixed fluids, soon joining the thick ropes of sticky cum that land on your flushed skin, a reminder of the too short moment of passion you shared.

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jojikawa · 5 months

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Beauty and the Beast

An event where you are a woman in the 50s trying to turn the head of your neighbor, Francis Mosses when you are stalked and pursued by his evil counterpart.

Art by ilameys

Zettai Zetsumei • Co shu Nie

Word Count: 5.7k

⚠️: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ♥ Manhandling, Slight body horror descriptions, descriptions of blood, himbo!doppelgänger!Francis Mosses, Yandere Behavior, Mentions of Stalking, sexualization of the female MC by Fake Francis, SMUT(CNC, mentions of a "rape kit"), and monster cock.

I write for free, but if you wanna further support me > Ko-Fi 🎀

Life was somewhat boring for you as a woman in the 50s. Despite being sought after by a lot of the men in your apartment complex, you had your heart set on one man. You only got to see him once a day. Francis Mosses. When he would deliver milk to your door in the morning. No matter how cute or cherry you were, it seemed like his mind was set on other things. The man always looked tired but you thought he was handsome no matter what. Maybe even more handsome…it was just something about hot men being tired that made them so much hotter.

You had hoped that eventually, he’d notice you and finally take you on a date!

But that hope soon faded when you read the newspapers. They talked about how doppelgängers are becoming a lot more frequent and the D.D.D. would be installing new units everywhere to ensure that no evil counterparts are making their way into the homes of others and killing people. You were able to tell if this made you feel safer or a lot more scared. What if someone made a mistake…?

Well, you didn’t have a chance to feel anything really, as the D.D.D. was extremely secretive about this kind of threat. After some time, it became normalized and it soon left your mind. The Doorman job seemed to be pretty effective as you had never seen any monsters before and were very much alive. It was rumored that the creatures would murder and eat any person they encountered if they succeeded in passing as humans. This is another reason you had your heart set on Francis. You felt as though he could protect you at a time like this. Maybe it was naive of you but after all, you were just a girl.

“Good Morning.”

Upon hearing the small knock at your door, you went to greet him. Francis stood tall, rather confused about you coming to get your bottled milk so quickly.

“Oh, good morning…” He replied flatly, gripping the strap of his milk bag. You thought that maybe he had a mutual crush on you and was too shy to act on it. So, you could take that step for him.

“How are you this morning? I hope that life is agreeing with you today.” You stepped outside of your apartment door with your glass of milk in hand. Francis shrugged. “I suppose it is.” He then yawned before saying “What’s wrong? Are you looking for another?”

You blinked. “Huh?” Your eyes then darted down to your hands. “O-Oh…sure.” You smiled attractively, causing him to break eye contact with you. He reached into his milk carrier and revealed and took out another. “You’re only allowed to get one every day but you can have mine.” He walked up to you and placed the bottle into your free hand.

“Th-Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”

After he disappeared around the corner, you were filled with joy! That interaction was such a good sign. He gave you his milk bottle. You had to make him something for dinner tonight as a gift!

Thunk!

You almost jumped at the sound of glass falling on the carpet at the far end of the hallway behind you. It looked like an empty milk bottle if you squinted hard enough. There was a shadow as well. It made you feel uneasy and quickly made you retreat into your home.

You wanted to try seeing if you could have more time with Francis. There was a job opening for the D.D.D. Doorman of your building and you instantly took it. Being able to meet with Francis when he wasn’t busy might have your conversations with him take a turn for the better. You really appreciated his selfless gesture. So, seeing him at least twice a day would make your life so much brighter. Francis was the complete package. Tall, handsome, quiet, and most of all, soft-spoken. You’d be a good wife to him.

On the first day of the job, you didn’t receive any proper training. You were given an informational video and a set of instructions that you scrambled to memorize as a long line of your neighbors awaited their inspection outside. The job was easy at first and you did it well. It was a chore but those are easy. You let in the right people and you called the D.D.D. when you found a doppelganger like you were instructed to. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, Francis didn’t pay you any mind. You gave him a soft smile through the glass before asking him about his day.

“I hope work is treating you well.” You pitched your voice up to sound cuter. Your graceful hands moved swiftly as you sifted through the many layers of documents, trying to organize them before your next neighbor. “Yeah, I suppose.” He answered, blinking rather slowly. Your smile widened. “Any days off soon? I’d like to see you outside of your uniform.” You winked at him and he just shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Well, maybe, sometime after your hard work, you tell me a day you’d think you would be free?”

You waited with anticipation for his response. He seemed rather confused and it was rather adorable. Then he said “I don’t really know. I think I’m busy but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Your smile faltered just a little but you were good at faking emotions. “Oh, no worries.” You waved him off in a playful manner before pressing the button to allow him inside. Your shift ended and you thought that you should probably get to making that dinner for him as a ‘thank you’ for the free milk. As you began to clean up, the pressure of your job began to set in. This wasn’t something that you could just quit if Francis were to reject you. Ignoring all the unexplainable noises, the dark figures, and the constant feeling of being watched, it would be very awkward seeing him every day after that.

It was a new day. Francis came to check into the building and you let him go without chatting with him because you didn’t want to seem like a bother. But…then you saw him again.

“Francis?” You cutely tilted your head. The way he looked at you was much different than usual. The Francis you knew could barely make meaningful eye contact with you but right now he had no problem burning holes into your skull with his eyes. Not only that but he was visibly bigger as well. Taller and more masculine. His arms were big and veiny. This was NOT Francis Mosses.

“I-ID…?” You gave a nervous half-smile as you tried to hide your stutter. The humanoid creature gawked, a subtle sense of happiness washing over its face the longer it stayed there. “Don’t have it on me.” It replied plainly. You picked up the clipboard before exing out the box that was labeled “ID.”

“W-Well, you seem to look a lot like someone who’s already checked in. Please, give me a moment to confirm.” You flashed it a close-eyed smile. Upon seeing it, the fake Francis moved closer to the window, fogging it up with its mouth breathing.

You pressed the big red button to close the shutter before dialing the number to the D.D.D.

The representative told you someone would be over right away to dispose of the doppelgänger. It only took about a minute before they’d arrive. Normally, the shutter would open on its own after being reset by the D.D.D. member but for some reason, it didn’t You figured that now would be a good time to open it to help the last neighbors but when you did, you were not met with the hazmat suit you were so familiar with.

In front of you was the same fake Francis from before, now covered in some blood. His expression was one of annoyance and the veins in his arms were pulsating as if he were trying to contain some kind of anger.

“E-Excuse me, but you need to—!”

“Let me in.”

Your heart dropped. It talked! And it sounded just like Francis too.

You shook your head. “N-No! I’m not letting a monster in.” You reached for the number to re-dial the number again.

“But I think you look so pretty today. You wore that just for me, huh? I’d love to t-tear it off of you.” The creature’s neck involuntarily cracked its neck, twisting it in a demonic way. You screamed at the sight, pressing the button once more to close the shutters so that you wouldn’t have to see it. As they went down, the doppelgänger tried to stop it by putting his hand under it. It got caught in the track, causing it to get stuck on the track and it was open halfway.

“Come on, Darling, I know you’re not about to call those bastards again. I don’t want to have to hurt anyone else.” The large man-creature crouched down. You could see his fanged canine teeth poking out of his mouth. You backed away from the window with the telephone in hand.

3312…

You listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before the receptionist answered.

“Hello?”

“P-Please send help!” You cried over the phone. Tears began to spill out of your eyes upon hearing the squeal of metal as the predator stretched and bent it to his will. The glass was the only thing left that could stop him from entering.

You saw how abnormally long his tongue was when it glided over his lips. “I just want to taste you…”

The receptionist dispatched another group of workers to help dispose of the doppelgänger. They arrived almost instantly. It was only then that the fake Francis moved away from the window. You sighed in relief, trying to calm yourself down from the events that transpired. You ran over to the tempered glass. The mental door looked like sheet paper.

You saw no trace of the Hazmat people but you also didn’t see the fake Francis anymore. You quickly gathered your things and rushed to leave. You opened the door to let yourself out. You planned to run to your room and lock the door but as soon as you had left the room, you bumped into a stiff, toned chest. The figure grabbed you by your neck and forced you to look at them. The gloved hand was covered in blood and it stained your skin and the collar of your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going, Princess?”

His grip around your throat was so tight that you weren’t able to form words. It was completely covered in blood and in its other hand was a knife dripping with blood as well. It kept the violence to one side of the room so that you weren’t able to see anything unless you completely left the screening room.

The light clank of the knife hitting the ground could be heard and its newly free hand grabbed your waist. The doppelgänger hugged you to its masculine chest. Its head rested itself on top of yours before it planted its nose in the crown of your head before inhaling your scent deeply. The blaring sound of the alarm continued to go off and it was deafening.

Your nose was overloaded with the scent of fresh blood. The pure shock didn’t let you resist his touch. His grip loosened and you dropped everything you had in your hands on the floor, staining it in with the red substance

“P-Please.”

You felt its large hand around the back of your neck and you feared that it would snap it and kill you any second. You held your breath as you felt it set the other hand on your waist as well, rubbing it gingerly.

It felt like the doppelgänger was sizing you up to see if you’d be a good enough meal for it.

“He-ey, beautiful. It's… okay…”

The doppelgänger’s speech was somewhat disconnected but it was fluid for the most part. At first, it was clear he was a fake but the more he kept talking, the more it sounded like the real thing…like it was learning in real time.

Your heart rate accelerated when you felt its hand travel ever so slowly from your waist to the collar of your dress. The inhuman smile on its face widened and it suddenly ripped the cloth that covered your torso. You gasped, instinctively covering your now exposed bra.

You wiggled out of its grip and used the opportunity to run. You kicked off your pumps and ran barefoot to your apartment. All you could do was hope that more of the D.D.D. would come and solve the issue before anyone else could get hurt. The emergency alarm was still going off so the authorities should be there soon.

When you arrived at your door, you tried to scramble to look for your keys so that you could get inside but…

…you remembered that you dropped them along with the rest of your possessions.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching behind you. The large shadow engulfed your smaller form.

“Allow me.” The stranger said, calmly. Their large fist went through the door handle, shattering the lock and making it completely useless. You were too shocked to try running again. It found you.

The doppelganger shoved you against the door, swinging it open and causing you to fall forward inside of your home. You hit the floor with a soft but swift thud. “I see the way you look at him.” Its voice was laced with venom—anger but left more to be desired. It was playing with you awfully long for a creature that was trying to kill you.

“But you’d never look at me that way…”

The Fake Francis entered the apartment making sure to secure the door behind it so that you couldn’t run anymore. You cried and whimpered as it took its sweet time pushing your bookcase in front of the door so no one would intervene with what was supposed to happen next.

“I-I don’t know what you’re—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as it smashed its lips into yours. Its tongue was like that of a serpent, slipping its way into your mouth. You tried to push it away but any attempts just resulted in your lips connecting once more. It was too strong.

You were terrified but it passed so much for the real Francis.

“Tell me you don’t like it ‘n I’ll stop.” It whispered into your mouth before it French kissed you once more. You kissed it back, unable to resist his appearance any longer. When it pulled away, a string of saliva connected between both of your mouths. It’s warm breath hits the surface of your face, eyes full of lust and horror.

It’s soft lips attached themselves to your neck, biting and sucking until your skin slowly began turning red. “Mmm.” It hummed deeply, traveling lower and lower until it reached the cavern between your breasts. “You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?” It placed kisses in the valley of your chest, waiting for a reply. You were unable to form words at this point. It wanted to ravage you and steal your innocence. It took your idleness as consent, continuing on with satisfying itself and by extension, satisfying you.

It took the delicate hand you had been using to drive a wedge between the both of you. You thought that at this point it was going to break your arm! You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to endure the pain but…it didn’t. You felt the heated bulge beneath it’s bloodied white trousers. It throbbed.

That’s when it finally clicked for you. It wasn’t playing with you like you were food. It wasn’t trying to taste you and pick it’s teeth with your bones. It wanted to be with you. To breed you.

“I—ah~♡!” You bit down on your lip to contain the pretty moans that left your mouth. Your bra was removed, fully exposing your breasts. Its tongue touched the tip of your nipple and its mouth enveloped over your entire areola. It licked and sucked on the bud until it was nice and hard. The other hand was subtly slipped under your dress.

It took barely any strength at all to rip the fabric, showing how inappropriately wet you’d become from this activity. It craved the essence that was oozing from your tiny cunt.

At the feeling of the cold wind, you brought your legs together just to have them forced apart again. The creature made you feel so small and vulnerable. It used force when it felt necessary but overall, it was….soft. Licking, kissing, biting but no drawing blood, taste, loving.

It salivated at your legs, raising one and nuzzling the side of its face into the smooth skin. “So…gorgeous.” It pulled you forward. “When I saw you, I knew I wanted you.”

“Y-You did…?” You squeaked. It’s touch sent goosebumps from your limp to the rest of your body. “Two years I’ve been watching you. It was so damn annoying seeing you talk to that piece of meat.”

Piece of meat?

“I don’t know who you mean.” You shied away from the perfect creature. Could it mean…

“F-Francis?” You knitted your eyes together in confusion.

“Yes—HIM!” The doppelgänger dropped your leg and pulled you by your thighs to its crotch. “…I could never decide what skin would be the best to pursue you in. But then I’d see the way you look at him.” Pre-cum was beginning to show from its member inside. You could feel the wet fabric on the lips of your hot cunt. “So, I became him…but better.”

You heard the subtle unzipping sound of the pants and it took out its thick cock. It was larger than normal and didn't look like the standard male genitalia. You’d need to use both hands to hold it.

There was no denying this thing could perfectly replicate a human man. Before you could even react, the big “man” picked you up by your hair.

“Get on your knees.” He commanded and you felt obligated to obey him. You’ve never been in a situation where you were being held up by a man like this.

“I’m gonna split you in half with this cock.” He pushed its large tip against your cheek, straining it with warm cum. “Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted for a moment but you hesitated. There was no way that whole thing could fit into your mouth. Your eyes traveled up to his for guidance. He only stared down at you with hard, tired eyes. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk.

“I said…open your mouth.”

He spoke through his teeth as if it were a threat. You were reluctant but tried to ease it in. You kissed his tip, causing him to grunt and tighten his fist around your hair. “Open.” He growled, yanking your head back. His cock was so close to your face that you could truly take in its side. It was nearly the length of your skull.

You opened your mouth out of fear and he shoved it inside. He was kind enough to let you get used to it in your throat by going soft and slow…or maybe he was just distracted by the imprint showing on your throat.

You grabbed his hips to keep yourself from falling backward. Even a bit of force made you lose your balance. “Good girl.” He sighed, relaxing into you, pushing the limits by pushing it deeper. Your choking and gagging only made him feel pleasure.

“You struggling with my dick in your mouth is so hot.” You heard him mutter under his breath. Your eyes began to water from the choking, causing tears to carry mascara down your cheeks.

“Keep sucking.” He fucked into your throat and gentle too. “I’m close.”

Both of his hands found themselves on the back of your head. He sped up his pace until a loud groan emitted from his chest and a mysterious liquid found its way down your throat.

The doppelgänger let go of your hair. You fell back on your bottom and he crouched down. “Hey.” He called, grabbed both sides of your face with one hand. He squeezed your cheeks together. “Swallow.”

You swallowed what was left and once he knew it was in your belly, his lips crashed into yours. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth and explored every cavern.

You felt yourself get lifted again but this time to your feet. He walked you over to your dining table and shoved you into it. “Bend over.”

You didn’t really get a choice. When you tried to stand, he forced you down to the table with his hand on the back of your head.

You expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. You felt him explore your backside from your hips to your exposed ass. The wind was so cold but his hands were so warm.

He chuckled darkly, spreading your ass cheeks and sticking his shaft in between. His dick was so much bigger than you that you would definitely have a belly bulge because of it. He wanted to experience it for himself.

You waited with silent anticipation for him what he would do next. You weren’t too sexually active anymore because you wanted to reserve that for the real Francis, if you ever got the chance with him, so you were really nervous about having something so big inside.

“Uah!” You squeaked, feeling a wet, warm muscle enter the deepest part of your cunt. It was his tongue!

You whipped your head around to see that his face was buried in you from behind. “Mmm.” You heard him hum vibrations into you. He consumed all of your juices as they came out. It must’ve tasted so good coming from a pretty human like you.

With every moan and whimper that left your mouth, it made his dick grow harder and harder. He didn’t stop until you had creamed all over his tongue. So much came out that it got all over his face too.

“I-Is that it? Is that what you want…?” You asked, but you were only ignored.

“Pick a hole.”

“Wh-wha—“

“Pick a hole, or I will.”

Pick…a hole…?

His large thumb massaged your asshole while his knuckles, now sleek with your cream, was stimulating your pussy.

“Um…I—“

“Both it is!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?!”

You felt his thumb sink deep into your ass while he struggled to get his large tip into your pussy. “Damn you’re fucking tight.” He growled through his teeth. His free hand grabbed your ass, fingers sinking in so deep they’d leave marks.

“W-Wait, you have to go slow!” You cried, face heating up from being touched in such filthy ways. “I am.” He grumbled, pushing the limits of your vagina by forcing himself inside. Despite going at the pace of a snail, the pain of trying to fit himself inside didn’t decrease at all. You helplessly clawed at the table beneath you. It didn’t matter how wet you were. He was too big.

It took a moment but he was able to get it. It slipped in with much ease on his end but the difference inside made you gasp so hard you needed to cover your mouth.

The doppelgänger began thrusting without warning, quickly overstimulating you. You could feel him in your stomach too. You reach back to push him off of you but he just grabbed your arm and kept it. There wasn’t much you could do to get someone this big off of you. You would only take it.

“P-Please…I can’t take it!” You gapped out, drool escaped your mouth as you tried to form words. He was fucking you so hard you couldn’t even think. All that could be heard around the room was the lewd slapping of his filled balls against the bottom of your pussy.

“Beg for it then. Say you love me.” His breath hitched. “Say you want me and I’ll let you go.”

“I—“ Slap!

You tried to speak. “I wa—“ Slap!

It seemed that when you tried to comply with him, he’d remove the hand playing with your asshole to leave a rough, skin-reddening slap on your ass. Your struggling amused him. He couldn’t help but smile.

The doppelgänger has been stalking you for so long. It was hard getting into your apartment normally because of the last doorman but he couldn’t resist you once you were sitting at that desk.

“What’s wrong?” He teased, his deep voice going soft. “My dick isn’t in your mouth anymore…so what’s the issue?” He chuckled. “Beg.”

“I want you!” You blurted out.

“You…want me? Say there’s no one else. Say you love me!” It was like music to his ears, really. It was helping him reach his climax.

“I…I love you—“

“FUCK!”

Your belly bulge quickly became bigger as his cum painted your walls and womb. Even with his dick growing more flaccid, he continued to fuck his cum into you so that you both knew who you belonged to now. Tears spilled out of your eyes as you squirted onto his cock, mixing your juices together.

“I love you too, Princess. More than you could ever imagine—“ Before he could finish, his ears perked up almost like an animal. His attention turned towards your door that he had destroyed before. “Here they come.” He muttered, putting his member back into his pants.

You weakly lifted yourself from the table. Your hand placed itself tight below your navel. It was so sore now. “Who’s coming…? What are you talking about…?”

The doppelgänger ignored you, its horns flesh and bones began contorting and changing color. Its physique turned from that of a huge masculine man to the familiar form of that of a D.D.D. member. Yellow suit and all.

It ran to the door, opening it, and sticking its head out. “I found her, she's in here!” Its voice changed to a generic man as well. Not at all like the deep gruff from before.

Your legs felt like jelly, you fell to the ground as soon as you were able to stand. They were numb from the pleasure, leaving you unable to walk.

What happened next went by as a blur. The D.D.D. Reinforcement Team took you to a hospital where you were taken care of and given rape kit. You were unable to refuse it once the forensics team found semen at the scene. In order to maintain faith in the D.D.D., your assault was largely covered up but only those who were in the apartment that day knew about it.

After the commotion of filing our paperwork and giving information, you were sent home. You didn’t sustain any life threatening injuries but you were asked to come in periodically to see how your body would react to having the semen of a doppelgänger inside of you…so now you were a bit of a test subject to them. You quit the job after that but you were quickly replaced by a new guy.

You hadn’t seen the doppelgänger the entire time. Or at least, you thought you didn’t. You wanted to process the situation but you were more confused as to why it craved so much validation from you. It wanted you to say you loved it. It wanted you to say that you wanted it. It said that it’s been waiting two years to be this close to you. It looked like Francis.

You had just arrived back home. Carpenters quickly replaced your door before you got home and you decided to continue life as usual by making dinner for yourself. Your heart still aches from the fear you felt when you thought you were going to die. And so did your vagina. It didn’t bleed, thank god, but it was sore to the touch from how big that monster was.

“Man, I thought you’d never come back.”

You were alone in your kitchen when a voice emitted from behind you. The familiarity in the voice made your heart drop. You quickly turned around to see the doppelgänger from before, masquerading as Francis again.

“What are you doing here? What do you—“

“Shh, princess.” He strided through your small kitchen, stepping so close to you that you were against the counter with nowhere else to go. You placed your hands on his chest, giving you the illusion that you could push him away. He grabbed your arm by the wrist before kissing the inside of your palm. He kissed your fingers and then the back of your hand before making you cup his cheek, which he nuzzled into lovingly.

You wanted to rip your hand away but his grip was so strong. You blushed. Was it wrong to admit that he…it, was attractive?

“Why didn’t you kill me and eat me? Why did you do that to me?” You questioned meekly. His eyes were closed, enjoying your warm touch with a smile before they opened. His eyes were like hunter's eyes. “Because I love you.” He replied flatly.

“I don’t know what that means…”

You opened your mouth to speak again but you were cut off by a knock at your door.

“I’ll get it.” The doppelgänger quickly said and in a mere second, it shapeshifted to turn into…you. It was able to mimic you in all your glory, including the hickeys, bites and bruises from your attack.

“No!” You blurted out. “Don’t do that.”

The doppelgänger allowed you to move away from it and your arm fell to your side. You went to get the door but you made sure to check who it was before opening.

It was Francis!

“It’s him!” You hurried to your bedroom to find your cardigan to cover your tattered clothes before answering the door.

“Francis? What brings you here?” You forced a smile but your eyes looked just as tired as his. You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I heard what happened. ‘m so glad you’re okay.” Francis sighed, quickly invading your personal space. He hugged you to his chest. You blinked “F-Francis…?”

“I felt all torn up when I thought you died but when I heard that you were just fine, I just had to come see you myself.” Your stomach burned with delight. Francis was worried about you?

Francis let go of you and you pulled away. His face was red like he was blushing and you couldn’t help but blush too. Your lips curled into a smile. “W-Well, I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

He wanted to smile back but he couldn’t. He saw the marks on your skin. You were hurt. “I know you are.” He masked his sadness with a weak smile. He rested his hand on your head and ruffled it a bit.

It would probably be inappropriate for him to admit that he’s actually had feelings for you all this time, so he’d save it for another day. Hearing the news about the doppelgänger through gossip during his job of going door to door made him realize he could lose you at any moment. But today, he settled with placing a kiss at the crown of your head. “Stay safe. I’ll check on you again later.”

For a moment, everything in your life went still. Even after he had walked away and left you standing there, it didn’t feel real. This more or less confirmed he had a crush on you as well. No man just does that and doesn’t see you as more than just a neighbor.

Your heart fluttered as you came back to reality. You slipped back inside of your home. You need to get cleaned up! You had to bathe and find something suitable just in case Francis wanted to come inside upon your next meeting.

But then….

“You look awfully happy.”

The doppelgänger was still here. You gulped, seeing his much bigger form. He grabbed the sides of your face with his hand again. He didn’t bother crouching because of your size difference, leaving you standing on the tips of your toes.

You were too shocked to try defending yourself, so he continued. “I saw everything so don’t even try to lie. That bastard is so lucky that I have to lay low until the D.D.D. gets their claws out of you or else I would’ve…”

“Don’t hurt him!” You tried to beat and punch his arm to get him off but he didn’t budge. “Why not?!”

“Because…I’ll be sad. And you don’t want me to be sad, do you?” Your voice was unlabeled and lacked confidence. It was a Hail Mary but you’d do anything to prevent Francis from getting hurt.

“Shit.” The doppelgänger let go of you, setting you back on your feet. It seemed…conflicted. He paced around your living room briefly. It had a soft spot for you but you could tell it has trouble processing emotions like a person. It was just imitating a person to get what it wanted.

“You don’t want him. You just wanna marry a guy. I’ll marry you.”

You shook your head. “No. Y-You can’t. You’re not him.”

“Of course I am.” His expression became mischievous. A smirk settled on his handsome face. “You can even call me Francis in bed if it fancies you.”

You felt your stomach do a flip!

“No! I’m not calling you that. Even though you look just like him…wh-what do I call you anyway…?” You retreated inward, hugging yourself and looking quite nervous as if the situation was beginning to dawn on you. You were currently desired by one of the most dangerous beings in the world.

“Francis.”

“Stop! I’m never using that name for you.” You got angry enough to shove him but he didn’t move an inch. You quickly realized that you shouldn’t push too hard or else it might change its mind and kill you.

“Mmm….” You pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact with the monster. “Wh-What about Franz? Is that good enough for you…?”

Franz, huh?

“Perfect.”

Tagged Folks: @z3r0art @chilifrylizard2

#that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #Francis Mosses x reader #Milk Man #Milk man x reader #Yandere Milk Man x Reader #Yandere francis mosses #tnmn #doppleganger #dark romance

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florencemtrash · 17 days

Text

Bedsides and Breakfasts

Summary: After Azriel comes home battered and bruised, he refuses to eat the meal you've made him... Why?

Warnings: Angst, character injury, fluff

Author's note: For context, Y/n is Helion's bastard daughter. In an earlier draft of my other (very long) fic, The Shadowsinger and The Inkbird, this was going to be a scene that takes place after Azriel gets hurt during the Battle on the Lake where Y/n figures out Azriel is her mate. I wanted to finish it up and get it out there because I don't want to say goodbye to that story just yet and I wanted to get back into writing so.... here ya go!

The Townhouse sang quietly as it worked. Its melodies lay in the shifting curtains that shook off dust into the wind. Its lyrics in the whistling teakettle. You liked these sounds as you moved about the kitchen, preparing your tea and a crust of bread slathered with butter and jam.

When the Townhouse was empty, you didn’t need to fear your power — there was no one around for you to touch and steal memories from. Mor had tried to drag you out to Rita’s that evening — “Rhys says you’ve learned to keep your Clairvoyance at bay! Come dancing with us!” — but you couldn’t muster the courage or the energy.

Besides, you were awaiting a certain Shadowsinger’s arrival.

“Won’t you come back and make me your home? You who’ve stolen my heart as simple as a whisper, calm as a storm,” You hummed to yourself. You swore the Townhouse sighed in contentment. “Do you like my silly little songs then?” You mused.

The lights shone a little brighter, crackling the air with a flicker of energy.

You were singing about Azriel — of course you were — and blushing all the while. He’d been the first to truly speak to you — the first to notice you — and the embrace you’d shared in Rhysand’s office had left you breathless for days. You could still feel the ghost of his breath against your neck as you’d buried your face in the hollow of his throat. The cracked leather beneath your fingers and the short hairs at the base of his skull you’d caressed as lovingly as any flower. It was the first time you’d ever been touched like that. Like you were something worth holding onto.

When he was gone, the Townhouse felt too empty. You felt too empty. Even now, the edges of your patience frayed like a worn shirt without him.

You spent the evening’s hours combing through every book you’d managed to lug over from the Library. It was quick, but taxing work as every touch against the weathered binding allowed you to absorb its knowledge without you ever having to lay an eye on the page.

When the candle flickered dangerously close to your books and the dull throbbing behind your eyes had gone on for too long, you blew out the light and could do no more than curl up on the sofa before falling fast asleep.

The whispers of shadows woke you. You couldn’t understand the words hidden within their overlapping voices, but their panic and relief were heavy in the air. You could almost taste their meaning on your tongue.

“Y/n,” Azriel moaned. He leaned heavily against the open door, forcing it open against the drag of the carpet. His sword clattered to the ground before his knees. “Y/n,” he called out again, more urgently this time. He prayed to the gods you were home. He’d flown through the night, tattered wings struggling to keep him aloft, to make sure he’d see you again… just in case.

Blood and iron burned your nose and your sleep-swollen eyelids split open. “Az—” Your knee slammed against the coffee table in your struggle to escape the blankets. “AZ!”

Azriel was always greedy for the sight of you, and that familiar tug in his chest tightened as you rounded the corner and sprinted towards him. You tripped where the hardwood ended and the carpet began, throwing his arm around your shoulder.

He smiled softly at you. Three months ago, you’d been too afraid to touch anyone. Now here you were half-supporting his weight as he staggered to his feet. He stole a few precious seconds to lean his head into the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent. For a moment, he believed it would be enough to heal him.

“How bad is it?”

“Three arrows in the right wing, two in the left. Fae bane.”

“Anywhere else?” You both stumbled down the hallway back from where you’d come.

“I may have been stabbed a few times.” He offered the piece of information casually, like he was complaining about the price of eggs.

“What’s a few?” Your eyes were wide as the moon. Searching, searching, searching for wounds.

“Ten?”

Your growl tore through the quiet of the night.

Your hands were slippery with blood, and Azriel almost slid out of your fingertips as you deposited him against the table. You flung your arms out over the hardwood tabletop sending bottles of ink, pens, and sheafs of papers clattering to the floor before rolling Azriel onto the top and forcing him to lay down.

Under the chandelier, Azriel looked ghastly. The warmth was drained from his skin and the hollows of his eyes and the fullness of his lips were tinged purple from cold. His eyes drifted apart from one another.

“I need you to stay awake.”

“I will.” His words were slippery as soap on porcelain, syllables sliding into one another as he promised you he would be alright and that he had suffered worse before.

“Stay awake!” You commanded him and his eyes sharpened ever so slightly on your figure as you tore through the cabinets in the corner.

Where is it? Where is it? Glass bottles clinked and tottered on rounded bottoms. There!

You snatched one of the pale green bottles lining the back wall and bit off the cork top with a grimace, spitting it out onto the floor. You could taste the medicine inside coat your teeth with an acrid film.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You slapped Azriel’s cheeks to keep him awake. “Drink this.”

Azriel’s lips parted immediately and he accepted every bitter drop you forced down his throat. It wasn’t a cure, but it would help stabilize him long enough for help to arrive. In the time it took for you to call out to Rhys and light the candle that would wake Madja and call her to the Townhouse, Azriel’s cheeks had flushed with some more color.

The sight did little to ease your worries as you worked on unbuckling the straps of his armor. Piece by piece they fell away with a wet thud on the ground.

He grabbed your wrist before you could run in search of something to cut off the clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Elain had left gardening shears on the back porch. Perhaps the kitchen had scissors?

“Stay.” He begged. “Please stay.”

“Rhys and Madja will be here soon. I just need to get something to help you.”

“Then stay.” His grip turned desperate, short nails digging into your forearm. “Stay and help me. Don’t leave me.”

Azriel might have smiled if he wasn’t in so much pain. His hand slid up the curve of your arm to hold your neck, thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

“I wanted to see you just in case.” His chest rattled with the effort, “Gods, I missed you.”

He’d been gone weeks on the Continent, scrounging after every whisper of Koschei’s name as far as the eastern mountains. He’d scavenged and raged. Killed and tortured. And he’d missed you all the while. It was what had possessed him to fly all the way to Velaris, when he would have been better off breaking into the Day Court and throwing himself at the mercy of Helion — your father.

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, angry and hot. “If you say another fucking word like you’re about to die, I will kill you myself.” You were not prone to violence, and Azriel felt some pride that he could elicit such an emotion from you.

Luckily for you both, Azriel didn’t get a chance to say anything else, and you didn’t get a chance to murder him before Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Madja were bursting through the front door and following the blood-red trail to the dining room.

Azriel squeezed your hand once more. “Stay with me.”

“Where else would I go, Az?” You whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the palm of his hand before the others crowded close.

You stayed at the head of the table, one hand always holding onto Azriel’s. He swallowed his pain, the faintest groans slipping from his lips as arrows were pulled out inch by bloody inch. It was no easy thing to endure, not even for Azriel. Wicked barbs lined the arrow shaft and caught onto the delicate membrane of his wings no matter how Madja twisted, pushed, and pulled.

One particularly harsh wrench had Azriel crying out, his nails digging into your arm and drawing blood.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, feeling your skin break beneath his nails. His skin was tinged green now. A sickly sheen covered his face and fell over his eyes.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. Just look at me.” You grasped the sides of his face. “Look at me.”

Once again, Azriel was ready to listen to your commands. His eyes never left yours, not once, until the last of the faebane-tipped arrows dropped onto the table with a menacing ring of metal on wood.

Feyre closed his wounds as best she could, but the flesh inside would take longer to heal. For now all they could do was carefully wipe the blood from his body and carry him up to his bedroom.

You lingered by Azriel’s side long after he fell asleep, fingers twitching with nerves as you counted every slow and steady breath of his.

“Y/n.” Feyre gently touched your arm. “He’ll be alright.”

You nodded, still watching Azriel sleep. Then, to your mortification, you burst into tears. Your clothes were drying stiff with sweat and blood — none of it yours — and the red handprints Azriel had left along your arms were turning to copper rust.

She shushed you, softly tugging at your arms.

“He-He asked me to stay,” you said between gulps of air.

“He’d want you to be clean and well-rested, Y/n. Don’t let him wake up feeling guilty.”

If it weren’t for Feyre, you would have remained glued to the floor of Azriel’s room until you became one of the faces trapped in the wooden floors. You let her lead you across the hall to your own room where she filled the tub with warm water and soap.

“Shit,” you mumbled. Your fingers shook so much you couldn’t undo the buttons of your dress. Shadows, loose and long as stalks of grass, wound around your back, plucking the buttons undone without a word.

“He’ll be alright.” Feyre repeated this phrase many times as you scrubbed off the night’s events and turned the water copper brown. The magic of the Townhouse whisked away the grime almost as quickly as it appeared until you sat in a sudsy bath, milky and clean.

“What happened to him, Fey?”

“From what Rhys and I can tell, Koschei had over a dozen archers lying in wait for when he returned to Prythian. We’ve already warned Helion.”

You nodded. Your head felt heavy on your neck, like a doll with a snapped neck.

“He nearly died.” Once the words were out in the open, fragile and pure, you broke down again, knees drawn up to your chest in the tub.

“But he didn’t.” Feyre smoothed back your dripping hair. “It will take more than arrows and faebane for Death to steal him from us, Y/n.”

Gods you hoped that was true, or else your heart might give out every time Azriel walked out the door.

You returned to his side the moment you were clothed, hair still dripping onto his gray bed sheets as you leaned forward from your chair and held his hand. He slept on his stomach, wings flared out and peppered with white gauze like a patchwork quilt. Beneath the drape of his blankets you knew more gauze covered his chest and stomach, dotted with blood like blooming roses.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you awoke to a deep ache in your back and a faint choir of voices in the air.

Shadows.

They kissed your cheeks, cool and soft, urging your eyelids open. Azriel was already awake and sitting up in bed with a grimace. One hand clutched his side and a leg hung over the edge of the bed, like he intended to stand. When he saw you, his hazel eyes widened. First in alarm. Then in guilt.

“Az?” Your voice felt crusted with smoke and sleep and you did what you could to straighten the crook in your neck and your spine from the odd position you’d fallen asleep in. ““You’re not supposed to be sitting up.” Your bones cracked obnoxiously as you moved for the first time in hours, and the guilt in his gaze deepened.

You pressed lightly against his chest, feeling the gauze scratch your skin, but he did not budge.

“Az, you need to lay down. What were you even doing up?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered off to the side. “I was… I was trying to move you to the bed.”

You swallowed your yawn and blinked in disbelief. “Azriel, you’ve just been shot and stabbed. You need to lay back down.”

He grabbed your wrists, tugging you forward until you almost collapsed against his chest. “There’s space on the bed. I want you to be comfortable.”

“The chair is fine, and you are hurt. Now, please—” He did not move. No matter how you reasoned with him. No matter how you tried to shove him back beneath the covers.

“I will lay back down under one condition.”

You frowned. He was much more stubborn when he was injured. “What condition?”

“Sleep on the bed. There’s plenty of room.”

“Az—”

“Please.” His hands slipped into yours, fingers pressing against the pulse of your wrists. “Y/n, I will be comforted with you beside me.” He held up his finger before you could sleep. “And not in that gods-awful chair. You’ll wake up crooked.”

“I’m not a stalk in a storm,” you grumbled, because it only seemed appropriate that you should fight him on this. Otherwise, you’d have to admit that the thought of melting into his bed set off fireworks in your stomach, exciting and terrifying at the same time. You’d also have to admit the scent of mountain air embedded in every inch of his room brought you comfort. You could lay your head on his pillows and sleep for an eternity.

I shouldn’t be here. But you let him tug you closer to him. You slid your legs over his waist, calves catching on the waistband of his pants and dragging in a way that had your heart leaping into your stomach until you were safely on the other side of him.

Azriel’s bed was massive — over 12 feet across to better accommodate the span of his wings. You moved as far away from him as you could without eliciting offense and stared at the window.

Your muscles clenched as he shifted closer to you, wings rustling against the silk sheets and whispering as he got comfortable. Every time he so much as shifted, your back prickled, as though you had eyes there that shifted to soak up every inch of him.

He’s hurt and I’m taking up space and—

He reached out his arm and his fingertips brushed against the curve of your back. You stiffened like you’d been struck by lightning. If Azriel were awake, he would have apologized and wrenched back his hand as if burned. But he was fast asleep and the touch was a natural movement he made in his dreams where he was imagining that you were closer to him. So close that he could breathe down your neck and feel you melt beneath his touch.

You didn’t sleep, as much as the lull of his breathing threatened to sink you into sweet and comforting dreams. The sky was but a lighter shade of black when you were slipping out of bed with barely a whisper. Miraculously, Azriel did not awaken, and his shadows ghosted over the floors drowsily.

You were no stranger to dawn as you padded down to the kitchens. You hummed to yourself, cracking eggs over a well-greased skillet with onions, tomatoes, and peppers tossed in. They bobbed up and down in a sea of yellow like ducks on water. Potatoes browned to your right, their skins crackling and spitting grease as bacon popped and sizzled beside them.

You ate as you went, plating the final meal for Azriel, who—if you knew anything about him—would be waking shortly after the first rays of sunlight split his shadows in two.

You slipped back into his room as quietly as you’d left, and then nearly leapt out of your skin to find a dark mass of shadow covering the bed.

“You’re awake,” you said blankly.

Azriel propped himself up onto his elbows, back rippling as he forced his stiff and swollen wounds to stretch until he could sit up in bed.

“Where did you go?” There was but a faint slur to his words. “You weren’t here when I woke up.”

“I was making breakfast.” You dragged over the ottoman from the foot of his bed as a makeshift table. “Did you brush your teeth already?” Not that it mattered. A sour mouth wouldn’t keep him from a meal if he was hungry.

The flash of fear in his eyes was so subtle, so brief, that you missed it.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well that doesn’t really matter. Madja said you should eat first thing. Oh!” You plucked a purple glass bottle from his bedside table. “And she said to drink this with a meal.” You pushed it into his hands, reluctant as they were to take the stoppered bottle from you.

“I can’t imagine eating right now.” He said, shaking his head. His cheeks puffed out and he swallowed hard. “The smell… it’s… I can’t stomach it.”

You frowned at that. He liked your cooking. It was only due to circumstance that you hadn’t been able to cook for him in months.

“Can you please try?” you begged. “Just a bite.”

His skin turned pallid and the dark marks beneath his eyes stood out. He picked up a fork with a trembling hand, stuck it into a potato, then dropped it as if it burned. Suddenly, he regretted asking you to stay the night. Guilt ate away at his stomach, twisting it like spaghetti on a fork.

You sighed in dejection. “I’ll bring it back downstairs.” You said. You began collecting the silverware from where you’d left them by his side.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, catching your wrist in his hand.

You smiled softly. “Try and get some rest.”

“Will you be back?” His words caught you by the door.

“You won’t even realize I was gone.”

He doubted that very much. Still, he settled back in bed, rolling onto his stomach to keep its rumbling at bay. He was quite hungry.

You closed the door behind you, carrying the untouched plate of eggs and potatoes. Cassian stopped his whistling as he made his way down the hall, a teasing smile playing at his lips until he caught sight of your dejected expression.

“What’s got our resident Librarian frowning? Did someone misplace a book in the House?”

You didn’t rise to Cassian’s jests. You cast a sullen glance back at Azriel’s door like it was personally responsible for everything, and shrugged. “He hasn’t eaten since he’s been back and I’m starting to get worried. I read up on Illyrian anatomy weeks ago and he should be fine enough to eat by now.”

Cassian leaned down, taking a careful sniff of the plate before grabbing hold of a butter and rosemary roasted potato and plucking it in his mouth. It was cold and the butter had hardened into a greasy slick, but it was still good. He told you as much as he walked with you back to the kitchens, stealing slivers of potato as he went.

“It’s nice to know my cooking’s not at fault.”

Cassian jerked back in surprise and sudden understanding. “You made him that?”

“Yes. I know the House has its own will, but I like to cook. And it still feels strange having food just appear out of nowhere.”

Cassian fought with all his might to keep the cheeky grin from his face.

Poor Azriel, forced to go hungry because he was still too much of a sheepish fool to tell you about the mating bond let alone accept it.

He clicked his tongue. He loved his brother to the grave and back, but Azriel had a horrible habit of getting trapped in his own mind. Cassian had hoped you would help with that, given you suffered similarly.

“I wouldn’t take it too personally. Azriel’s a picky eater. Always has been.”

That was a complete and utter lie. Growing up in the Illyrian war camps meant you either starved or ate whatever gray-brown mush you could get your hands on. Rhysand and Azriel had been quicker to move on from the rugged Illyrian lifestyle, and Rhysand especially had used his High Lord privileges to cultivate a refined and expensive taste, but if they were hungry and limited they didn’t give two shits what went in their mouths.

“I didn’t realize you could afford to be picky in a war camp,” You grumbled. You dropped the plate’s contents onto a skillet, patiently waiting for the House to light a toasty fire. There was no need to let good food go to waste.

You thought over it, some minor irritation settling in that the Shadowinger had rejected the food you’d worked to make. It really didn’t make sense that Azriel would be so particular about food. Or anything for that matter. He’d always struck you as the practical, bare-bones sort, and you knew him well enough now to know that was true. His very job required it of him. But then again you couldn’t remember the last time he’d accepted any food that you’d offer-

You froze. Oh. Oh.

The first night he’d visited your apartment in the Day Court, he’d refused your tea and cakes before leaving abruptly. You’d agonized over that night for months, trying to figure out what you might have done to scare him off. But he’d been so kind and shy afterwards and then the whole matter of Koschei had arose and you’d never given it much thought because he just seemed so familiar and... Oh. OH-

“BASTARD!” You spat out in shock. The skillet dropped to the stove with a sharp cry that had Cassian blinking. He’d never seen you like this. So…agitated.

Had you always been this dull? A year ago you might have been able to blame it on your naïveté, but you weren’t so socially misinformed now and yet this was a bit much. And… oh you couldn’t wrap your head around your own stupidity to even begin to think about a mating bond with…

A mating bond with Azriel. You… you were his mate. He was yours. And you were his. And suddenly the pieces of it were falling into place so quickly you thought you might be crushed beneath the weight.

Mate.

Even the thought of the word crashed around your mind incessantly, like an anxious dog trying to settle down to sleep. Yet it all made such perfect sense. The way Azriel always found you when you were in danger or grieving. The awful days when Azriel had been away and you’d felt like a piece of your body had been severed. The way that the world felt right when he was beside you. Maybe it was the bond, maybe it was just something born out of love, or maybe they were one and the same. It was impossible to tell but it didn’t change anything.

Mate.

Cassian glanced sideways at you and said cautiously, “We’re both bastards, Y/n. I don’t think that’s much of an insult coming from your mouth.”

Your eyes snapped to his, suddenly remembering that he was in the kitchen with you. You brandished a fork in your hand like a weapon, pointing the pronged end up at him like he was a piece of meat to be skewered. You were shorter than him, but the sharpness in your eyes made him pause.

“You.” Such a simple word, yet it sounded so threatening. “You knew didn’t you?”

Was he sweating? The room felt warm.

“I don’t know what-“ You snatched his wrist and with your magic, you stole the information from him that you needed. It was as easy as plucking a flower from a field.

Fuck. Cassian groaned at the same time you did. You knew now. Not that you really needed confirmation from Cassian. Still. It was rather embarrassing to learn you were the last of… well everyone to know, even if it was your fault for not noticing the signs. In your defense you had been preoccupied with other matters…

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You muttered, heating up the remaining food with a great deal of force before setting down a fresh tray, plate, utensils, and mug of tea on the countertop.

You keep muttering to yourself, your joy disguised by your embarrassment and no small amount of shock. Cassian watched nervously as you prepped the plate.

You’d no sooner growled, “Move,” before Cassian leapt to the side and you set off out the door and down the hallway back to Azriel’s room.

She knows. One shadow whispered in his ear. Azriel felt his heart skyrocket and his stomach plunge to the cradle of his hip bones.

She seems… upset.

Upset was a mild word. You were alight with every emotion possible — fury, fear, anxiety, excitement, love — and Azriel struggled to tease them apart. It was like he’d been hit in the chest by a tangle of snakes, each a writhing, living, ever-changing thing. One moment you seemed nervous, the next angry.

“You.” Your knuckles were pale as they gripped the tray. Sunlight molded to your form like a crown, and it became all the more apparent that you were Helion’s daughter — his bastard daughter, but daughter nevertheless.

He scrambled into a seated position just in time for you to drop the tray in his lap with a clatter that sent fork and knife skittering over the dish.

You looked down at the tray, then up at his eyes, wide and molten as amber. “You didn’t tell me.” You didn’t need to elaborate any further.

“I didn’t think—”

“You’re right. You didn’t.” You blinked, suddenly shy. “Did I not make it clear enough that I liked you? That I loved—love you? Or perhaps you don’t… perhaps you don’t want me.” That was a possibility you hadn’t thought of in your excitement to see him again.

Oh gods, you hadn’t thought of that possibility had you? You’d just aggressively thrown food at him, expecting that he would—

Azriel gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him again. Your cheeks were warm and painted with color.

“I always worried I was reading into actions that meant nothing to you. But, never think for a moment that I don’t want you.” He smiled then, a shy, secret smile reserved for you. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Now your cheeks were burning, but Azriel did not mind feeling this kind of heat on his hands. He let go of your chin, twirling a fork with his fingers like it was a knife. It was one of his few nervous ticks whose knowledge was reserved for the people he trusted. For the people he loved.

“Being with me will put you in more danger than you know.”

“But I expect it will bring me more happiness than I could have ever imagined.” You raised a hand up to his face, twisting away a stubborn curl of hair that fell over his forehead. “And you forget who my father is,” you reminded him. “Maybe it is I who will put you in danger.”

“Maybe,” Azriel whispered. His breath fanned over your cheeks, soft and sweet.

You picked up the fork, lifting it up in between you.

“Eat.” You commanded him.

Azriel smiled, plucking it from your fingers and stabbing a potato. He sighed. “I never could deny you anything, and I would never want to,” he said, before chewing carefully. Cautiously.

You blinked in surprise, instinctively taking a step away when you felt something new and warm begin to burn in your chest, like someone had taken a drop of the molten hazel in Azriel’s eyes and dropped it into your heart.

“Oh.” You breathed.

“Yes,” Azriel murmured, “An unusual feeling, I know.” He placed the tray beside him and he’d no sooner opened his arms before you’d buried your face in the crook of his neck. You wanted more of that warmth in your chest. You wanted to slip into Azriel's skin as close as possible to his beating heart. To feel the mating bond wrap around you both like a curtain to block out the rest of the world.

Azriel groaned in pain, but would not let you leave his embrace. No pain had ever been worth so much.

You forced him to finish eating, even though all he wanted was the taste of you on his lips. “Later,” you promised him. When he was healed and whole there would be more breathless kisses and urgent touches, but for now he had to content himself with eating his meal and drinking his draught. But he would not be denied the press of your skin against his as you slipped beneath the covers and curled up beside him. This time, you fell asleep quickly and your dreams came over you like water.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader angst #the shadowsinger and the inkbird

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goldenstring6123 · 2 months

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hello ! wanted to say i really love your writing style and your stories for the characters ! I wanted to know if you’d write one for Love and deep space Sylus? A scenario where you’re both sleeping but you sneak away quietly to get something from the kitchen or for whatever reason but he stops you with his powers (the handcuffs etc) to bring you back to bed. I’m not sure if i’m making sense but something along those lines! please and thank you!

Sylus: Kitchen Sneaker

Warning: No warning. Fem!reader, domestic fluff (?)

Author's note: This is a fun domestic-ish prompt to write! I hope you like it my dear pookies <3

masterlist | Buy me a thread? |

Sylus was fast asleep beside you.

The man was a light sleeper for the sake of his own safety. According to him, even if the building was as secure as it could be, there were some instances where he woke up with a knife to his throat. However, ever since you began sharing the same bed, he had been sleeping like a log, which was good for him and the twins because they no longer had to deal with his hot head so early in the evening.

But it was bad for you. Simply because Sylus likes to hold you in his sleep. Sometimes his hand would be over your chest, groping your breast or squeezing in between your boobs, but most times, he would be holding your wrist, checking your pulse. How was this bad for you? Well, living alone for most of your adult life, you liked to indulge yourself in a midnight snack or two. With him holding you captive to the bed, his iron grip holding on to you, it was like you had a ball and chain around your body.

You've indulged Sylus for over a week now, but the intense midnight craving is overwhelming.

Tonight, it's food over Sylus. The man can wait. Food cannot.

You scooted his hand very, very, very gently away from your body. This man's hand is heavy and large. Sylus didn't move and continued to sleep peacefully, his exposed chest rising and falling calmly. The room was very cold, and you could even hear the blowing of the AC; it was at that moment that you realized how such small sounds seemed to be so loud at night.

With every step you take, you are holding your breath even more. Even against the carpet, the rustling of your feet seemed like it could stir Sylus awake at any second. Thankfully, you managed to traverse across the room like a spy. You even had to carefully close the door shut.

You used the stairs to get down to the kitchen, and while you were walking in the hallway, the chef was just about to leave, his satchel bag on his shoulder.

He and you made eye contact. You gestured to him to 'shush,' and he laughed.

"There's some leftover dessert and pasta in the fridge—feel free to eat it," he whispered, and you grinned, giving him a thumbs up. Greg is the best chef ever. You tiptoed to the kitchen, waving him goodbye. Your eyes landed on that double-door fridge that was whirring loudly.

Finally! You could taste that delicious panna cotta and aglio olio in your mouth. Your hands wrapped around the handle of the fridge, and as you tugged, the bright blue light of the fridge lit up your face.

You took the plate and settled it on the stainless steel counter. The next one was the small glass filled with chocolate and cream. You marveled at its delicate, savory look. You took a spoon from the nearby utensil holder and dug it into the soft texture, eager to get a taste.

Before it could land between your lips—

A cold whirlwind of black, scentless smoke wrapped around the fork. It flung out of your grasp, and before you could let out a peep, you, too, were flung away from the kitchen counter.

The man let out a grunt, his eyes low-lidded and foggy, clearly just woken up from his slumber.

"Pray tell," he gruffed, his voice an octave lower. "What are you doing in the kitchen? You're supposed to be in bed." Sylus let out a sigh while he brought you closer to him. He glanced behind you and saw the unopened plate of pasta and panna cotta.

"Never mind. You don't need to speak."

"I'm hungry! Don't you know you shouldn't get between a woman and her food?" you exclaimed while tugging at the thing around your exposed waist. You thrashed and thrashed, the straps of your nightshirt sliding down your shoulders. "Put me down and go back to bed! I'll be with you in five—no, fifteen minutes!"

His head was aching from all the noise you were making, and combined with the fact that you were out of bed by the time he woke up—to Sylus, it seemed like you were testing his patience. "Did you not eat enough during dinner time? You know you could've asked for second servings."

"I get midnight cravings on occasion, but when I'm sleeping over, you tend to weigh me down in bed," you explained, flailing your legs, which were a few feet off the ground.

"So, you're blaming me now?" Sylus raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. Of course, you were. It wasn't your fault you couldn't get out of bed, and it wasn't your fault that the chef made great food and desserts. He didn't like the look on your face but, regardless, put you down to the floor, his hand tugging your strap over your shoulders. His red eyes glazed over your bare chest, but he turned away, walking to that lonely plate of pasta.

"We're going back to sleep after you have your fill." Sylus unwrapped the plate and took a fork, twirling it and taking a bite. The oily, mild tinge of spiciness and Parmesan helped push him awake. He won't deny that the chef was good at his job—it was even enough for you to sneak out of his bed.

You mounted yourself onto the kitchen island, the cold marble surface cooling the bottom of your thigh. You took the panna cotta, and finally, the creamy and sweet flavor of chocolate and cream exploded in your mouth. Unconsciously, you nodded in approval of the taste.

Quietly, you ate in each other's company, occasionally making small talk. Sylus left the dish in the sink along with the fork, but when he turned to you, your nose was inside the refrigerator again. "Cake roll slice…" you uttered. The strawberry cake roll looked delicious inside the glass container.

Before you could even reach out to it, the smoke appeared at the very same spot, dragging you away from the fridge. Sylus closed the double-door refrigerator and crossed his arms right in front of you. A clear 'no' was plastered all over his face.

You let out a groan as he dragged you away with the smoky black and red rope around your waist.

When you got back to the bedroom, you expected Sylus to go right back to sleep. But instead, the man pulled a handcuff from underneath his pillow. How and why it was, there was a question you didn't want to ask him. Without another word coming out of his mouth, he chained it to himself and took hold of your wrist.

"No. You're not going to—"

He latched the real handcuff around your wrists and laid down on the bed, dragging you with him.

"Sleep."

The lights dimmed and flickered off at his word, and you just lay there, staring up at the canopy.

"I guess this is our bedtime routine now," you sighed.

"Sleep," he reiterated.

You seriously have no idea how you put up with this man.

Author footnotes: I also like to sneak out to the kitchen and eat but instead of sylus, It's my mom who sees me and then i get the clothes hanger beat up for staying up late at night lol.

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

#lnds #lnds sylus #lads xavier #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds #sylus lnd #SYLUS #sylus x you #sylus qin #sylus x y/n

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mickyschumacher · 2 months

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𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: they say you should learn something new every day. in oscar's case, it's a double-edged sword. today, he learns he is also really thankful for not reading the fine prints. or in which oscar's secret santa gift hits the both of you for the second time. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex (protect yourselves!) shower sex, blowjob, asking to go raw, p in v, teasing, oral sex, mutual orgasms, cumming outside, still an (over)consumption of aphrodisiacs

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x gf!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k+

𝐀/𝐍: as usual, proofread-ish. for the people who wanted a part 2 and for the person who said they wouldn't be disappointed bc i was nervous about making one (🥹 ily, you're a real one)... hope you like it! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

"I think we're going to have to thank Daniel," you joked, finally regaining your words.

"Later," Oscar sucked in a sharp breath. "Like three hours later."

You furrowed your brows, looking up at Oscar, only for him to be looking down. Following his gaze, your eyes honed in on the object capturing both of your attention.

"Oh..." you pursed your lips.

God, were these chocolates living up to their name.

Oscar tucked your hair behind your ears, fingers dancing across your skin. "What did you dream about?"

You blinked blankly before mending your brows as the sudden question. "I–what? What do you mean?" You asked, peering up at him with confusion.

"Your dream earlier on. I didn't get to ask. What was it about?"

All of a sudden your throat felt like a desert; so so dry. There was something almost unsettling about the cheeky glint in those brown eyes watching you. You let out a small sigh, suppressing your eye roll. "Well, first, we were in the shower–"

"In the shower?" Oscar repeated with raised eyebrows and an amused smile.

Your hand stretched out to hit him lightly. "Yes, you idiot. The shower," you sighed yet again before continuing, "well, it was initially sweet. We were doing the usual, shampoo, soap, water fights, and what not. And then you, acting like some sort of horny monster, decided it would be fun to eat me out against the wall."

"And then?" Oscar queried quietly, hand gently gliding down the curve of your body.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep on track. "Um, then I returned the favour," you shrugged timidly, feeling goosebumps litter your skin, trailing after his touch.

Oscar grinned. "Returned the favour?" He repeated, losing himself to his own thoughts as he spoke. "You sucked my cock? How?"

You almost choked on your spit. "W-What? What do you mean 'how?'"

"How did you do it? Did you start from the tip like you usually do? Or did you start from the bottom, grazing your teeth all the way up?"

You sucked in a sharp breath. "I... I started from the tip. I know how you like it. Special attention to the slit and to the bottom. All down my throat. Till you could see the small little bulge in my throat. And then I swallowed every single drop."

Oscar swallowed his saliva. You met those puppy eyes, yet again surprised at the desperation swirling around, drowning him.

He watched you tilt your head almost innocently. "Why?" Swollen lips jutted out, face still flushed and riddled with sweat from the previous round. "Want it to come true?"

A groan fell from Oscar's lips, eyes shutting for a second. "God, yes."

Wordlessly, you observed him quickly remove himself from your grasp, moving his hands under your body, lifting you up into the air. You let out a squeal, waves of cold air hitting your warm body. "Osc!"

"I'm trying to hurry!" You heard him yell as you watched the carpet of your bedroom suddenly turn into the tiles of your bathroom. You felt Oscar place you gently down onto the shower floor, pulling the handle.

You let out a yelp at the intrusion of cold water across your skin. "Oscar, that's fucking freezing!" Ready to take a leap out of the bathroom.

You peeked an eye open at the boy who was simply smiling at you as the water pelted down on your bodies. "I guess I'll just have to warm you up in the first place."

Before you knew it, Oscar's lips were back on yours as though they had never disappeared. Your hands fell to his neck, while his wet hands encircled your waist, bringing you as close as he could. He kissed you with an indescribable sense of urgency, nipping away at your lips.

You gasped at the sheer force of the kiss, allowing him to take advantage of the open access, darting his tongue into your mouth. Your muffled moans filled his ears and long gone were the worries of the cold. Only warmth burned through the both of you.

The sloppy meeting of your lips, the occasional clang of your teeth, or the pure suction of need set you alight. Oscar groaned, a shiver running through his spine at the feel of your hand roaming his hair.

To be honest, it was difficult to see with the now slightly warm water coming down. But even then, Oscar could see it clear as day. The way your eyes sparkled looking up at him and the way your lips glided down his bare neck, trailing his chest before resting at his v-line, knees pressed on the floor... fuck, he was dreaming.

Out of your peripheral, you could see Oscar's muscles tense as you gathered the saliva in your mouth, spitting the lube down onto his cock. The low exhale from his lips made you smile momentarily.

"I'm gonna make you feel so so good, okay?"

Before he could even respond, your hot breath washed over his cock, making him twitch. Oscar's head fell back on the shower wall, feeling your hot tongue lick the tip of his dick, paying special attention to his slit. "Oh shit," he moaned, entirely lost.

His arms travelled to your wet hair, wrapping the strands tightly around the surface of his hands, guiding your head with the little control he could muster. Oscar's teeth sunk into his lip upon the twirl of your tongue and the light graze of your own teeth against his tip. "F-Fuck," he croaked, "you're so good, baby."

You hummed in response, savouring the salty taste of his precum before opening your throat a little more to take his cock fully. You feel him poorly guide his cock into the tighter tunnel, the action bombarded with a string of moans from his mouth.

Your thighs clenched at the sounds, all your arousal mixed with the falling warm droplets. You could tell he was close by the way his hips began to move as though he was in a chase. You could only help further by sucking him even harder.

Oscar blinked away the water, eyes falling down to your throat, knees almost buckling at the sight of the same little bulge in your throat. Furthermore, the sinking of your nails in his thighs.... fuck... it was another sort of cruelty waiting to be released. Closing his eyes, he cursed with a senseless yet ravenous moan, feeling the coil in his stomach began to unravel.

Suddenly Oscar's eyes shot open. His hips stopped moving. You peered up with raised brows, wondering why on earth he was edging himself as he pulled you up to meet you face-to-face.

"That is not how the dream went," you lightly chided, hitting his chest lightly.

Oscar braved a small smile, chest heaving with a crazed adrenaline as he caught your arm. His free hand brushed your wet face. "I love your dream, I really do," he said with an emphasised look down below. "But I need to be in you again."

You crumbled at the last word. The crack of his voice was laced with whatever plant or fruit you had both over consumed. He was so so needy. The pleading eyes, his aching cock begging for a release, his hands eagerly travelling across your body.

"What about the condom?" Your whisper was just heard over the water.

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. "I... can we go raw?"

You pursed your lips. Raw... you had thought of the idea more times than you'd like to admit. Obviously, a baby with Oscar wasn't something you were considering at the moment. You had discussed this, hence the condoms. And sure there was birth control, but the list of side effects was never-ending. Plus, you were never good with remembering pills anyways.

You weren't quite sure whether it was the aphrodisiacs or you, probably a mix of both. But you couldn't quite seem to get the idea of really feeling his cock for the first time out of your head.

This whole thing was already reckless and crazy as it was. What was a little more?

"Obviously, if you don't want to–" Oscar started, fumbling over his words urgently.

"Yes."

"–it's up to you because I respect your choice–"

"Osc, yes."

"Hmm?" Oscar blinked, finally registering what you were saying. His brown eyes widened before a smile washed onto his face. "Yeah? I mean I didn't really imagine it happening in the shower but... I was thinking something a bit more romantic."

You chuckled softly. "Well, I never thought we'd be drugged up on chocolates from your friend and yet, here we are..."

Oscar grinned, swiftly bringing his lips to yours. Your hands flung to his face, bringing him closer to you as his hands travelled down the sides of your body, every curve and crevice committed to memory.

His grin deepened further at the sound of your breath hitching. His fingers inched closer to your hips, aligning your body to him. He let out a slow exhale, cock painfully waiting to feel you.

Briefly, Oscar's eyes flickered back to your face. Thumb nudging you to look at him. "If anything feels wrong and I mean anything–"

"I'll tell you. Promise," you smiled softly, giving him a long kiss.

Oscar smiled in return, holding your gaze with the intention to capture this moment entirely as he slowly rubbed the tip of his cock against your engorged pussy. He could hear your soft whimpers through the droplets of water. A rippling tremble rumbled through his body while he pushed his cock into you, letting your wet arousal soak him entirely.

Oscar had never been so happy to capture your reaction. The inevitable parting of your lips, the silent gasp, the crease between your brows, the tightening of your walls against his cock... fuck, it drove him crazy.

"You okay, baby?" He asked with a shallow breath. The nod of your head green-lit him to fully bury his cock into your pussy, allowing you to feel every full inch of him, raw.

A small burn travelled through you. Oscar was stretching you out like never before. You felt so full. Fuck.

"Osc, please move.'

The plead from your swollen lips was so desperate. Like you were about to fall apart.

"Oh my God," Oscar groaned against your wet skin, fingers tightening around your hips as your words replayed in his head. His hips began to snap into you, rutting his aching cock into your warm walls. Fuck, you were gripping his cock so tight... he could've sworn he'd cry if he wasn't so fixated on the way you felt.

His hooded brown eyes couldn't help but watch his cock come in and out of your throbbing pussy, shit, you were creaming all around him. He could feel the coldness of the shower wall touch his back as he brought you even closer, drilling his cock further into you. His lips moved towards your nipple, tongue twirling around in circles as your pants filled the moist air.

"Oh fuck!" you cried, hands reaching out to grab his shoulders–anything.

You could've sworn the sounds of your skin slapping against his was echoing throughout your house. Even over the water, it rebounded of the walls, melding in with your lewd moans and the obscene squelch of your pussy craving more and more of Oscar's cock. You had never felt anything quite it.

You could feel Oscar's hand move from your hips, inching down your v-line to meet your clit. A shudder ripped through your body as he thumbed the sensitive nerves in slow circles.

"Come on, baby," Oscar encouraged, lips sloppily meeting yours. His moans were getting beyond desperate, hips beginning to pick up their pace. "Show me how good you feel, hmm? Cum for me."

Your mouth fell open as a crash of white began to take over your eyes. The water began to blur with the waves of your orgasm hitting you one after another. Your body was shaking in his hands, your own hips bucking to ride out the high for as long as you could.

Your pussy was so fucking tight, gripping him like a vice. Oscar let out a throat groan as he fought to open his eyes. He rushed to take his cock out of your folds, as much as it pained him. "Fuck, f-fuck, open your mouth, baby," he urged, own hand sliding up and down his cock.

Oscar moaned at the sight of you on your knees, pretty lips and tongue all open for him. His hips stuttered against his hand as ropes of his hot cum spilled onto your tongue. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Yes, fuck, take it, baby. Take my cum!"

A sigh flew out of his mouth as he slowed down and the waves of his climax came to an end. Oscar softly groaned at the sight of you, bending down to kiss you. The salty taste of his cum mixed with your arousal... fuck, he loved it.

Gently, he brought you up to meet his eyes once again. Your chests both heaved in an attempt to regain your breath.

You were thankful Oscar was holding you against him: you're legs felt like jelly.

"Can you walk tomorrow?" Oscar teased, pushing your wet hair behind your ears.

You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest lightly. "You're an asshole."

Oscar chuckled softly, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head. He sighed once again, hands rubbing your back soothingly as the silence was filled with the running water. "I love you," he whispered against your skin, "Thank you for trusting me with this."

You smiled, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "I loved every second of it, baby. And for the record, it was very romantic."

"And hot?" Oscar raised a brow, a small grin playing on his face.

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes again. "Are you going to thank Daniel?"

Oscar pursed his lips at your words. "Absolutely not."

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #op81

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tramontane-fire · 1 year

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food/diet/weight/bodytalk bullshit

#i am so exhausted #i thought it was something to do with the fact #that I am not eating enough food to cover the operating costs around here #like i'm fully aware of this fact #so I had a nice big breakfast with plenty of protein and calories #and I am TIRED #i even had a ton of coffee #but just thinking about doing HIIT makes me want to collapse to the floor in a heap #the other consideration is that I need to train my muscles #because at some point The Job might possibly summon me to go work on the ambulance again #and like lift people? which i will need to be able to do?#I am exhausted #it's couch time #maybe I need some supplements?#how the hell am I supposed to be able to be masc and strong and good at my job?#fighting through fatigue is the literal worst #sitting in the grass mid-run trying to catch my breath #lying on the carpet because I can't do any more push ups #I just want to be active! strong! manly!#I don't want to live on the couch!

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b0nten · 9 months

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HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

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strang3lov3 · 3 months

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The Real Deal

Frankie uses his tongue to demonstrate why he’s less than impressed with your rose toy. (3.7k)

Tags - 18+ smut, oral sex (f receiving) , sex toys, kissing, nipple stimulation, me popping my Frankie cherry so forgive me for being a little shaky on this. I wrote him to be a little smug and cocky pussy eating expert, but i think he's quite nice also. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you for your editing, your Frankie guidance, and your endless encouragement, and also @beefrobeefcal I wasn’t supposed to ask you for help on the fic I wrote for you but I did anyway and you were gracious as always. I love you. A/N - as mentioned above, this is my first time writing Frankie so please give me some grace. And it's also rather indulgent despite it being a late birthday gift for @beefrobeefcal, I love you forever and I hope I do Frankie justice for you my beautiful, sweet, generous, thoughtful, caring, intelligent, and wonderful friend. I'm lucky to have you 🩷

The smell of your bedroom comforts you as you take your bra off and hang it on the doorknob. There’s nothing more satisfying than that at the end of a long day. You also remove your pants and panties, swapping them out for a comfortable pair of pajama shorts. You’ve just gotten off of work, it’s Friday night, and you have a date with your phone.

You lay in your unmade bed in a spot that’s already warmed for you, probably by your cat, Dr. Waffles. You must have spooked him when you entered your apartment. The first app you open is UberEats, and you know exactly what you want: a tuna poke bowl from Cactus Club. You’re about to pay when the app alerts you that your wait time will be about an hour and a half. Fuck. You buy it anyway and open Tumblr, because you know exactly how you’ll kill time.

You got an alert earlier that one of your favorite writers updated her series Devotion, a story about Joel from The Last of Us where Joel acts as a cult leader. It’s such a hot and thrilling story. You also saw that the writer of the series put in her author’s note that this chapter gets smutty, that Joel will go down on the main character. It’s addled your brain all day, the thought of getting it on with Cult Leader Joel.

You read through the story and as things between the characters begin to get heated, so do you. The writer describes the way Joel eats pussy with such detail that you can almost feel it, can almost hear the noises he makes and the way he dirty talks. You’ve been absentmindedly playing with your clit, feeling your arousal grow as you read on, but you decide to switch masturbation methods as you have just the tool for the occasion - your trusty rose toy. One of your best friends, Kiki, gifted it to you last year after she caught you reading smut on your phone. She said the sex toy shop was having a buy one, get one free deal and she knew just the friend to share the sweet deal with.

The toy seemed gimmicky when you went home and opened it, what with that almost cartoonish-looking tongue right in the center of the petals. And it smelled strongly of isopropyl alcohol. But for shits and giggles, you washed it and charged it anyway and that night with the silicone rose between your thighs, your life was changed. That little tongue worked magic on your clit and had you coming more times than you could count, endless orgasms that had you seeing stars.

With your phone in your left hand, you can’t peel your eyes away from the screen as you reach for the drawer of your nightstand. With your hand on the knob, you pull the drawer but it doesn’t open. Odd. You tug the drawer again, and then again, and then you’re turning on your side to really yank that goddamn drawer. Each time you pull, you rock the nightstand against the wall, no doubt denting it but you don’t give a shit. Waffles made sure you’re not getting your security deposit back anyway, that much is evident in the shredded carpets and scratched up door frames.

A pounding at your door has you stopping what you’re doing. “I know, I’m coming,” you say, more to yourself than whoever’s slamming on your door at the ungodly hour of 7pm. You open the door to one annoyed Frankie Morales glaring at you with his arms crossed.

Frankie’s your criminally handsome next door neighbor who lives in the apartment to the left of you. All it took from him was one look at his sparkly, chocolatey brown eyes, his aquiline nose, and those curls peeking out from under his baseball cap and you knew you were in trouble.

You moved into the complex shortly after he did a couple of years ago, and Frankie took pity on you when he saw your brother leave halfway through the job. Frankie, already sore from moving all of his furniture just two days prior, decided to help you move in the rest of your stuff. The next day after grocery shopping, you made him a lasagna and a pan of brownies to thank him for his generosity, and thus began a system of sorts. Frankie enjoyed your food thoroughly, and you enjoyed having someone to share meals with, especially since you never could get the hang of cooking for just one. So you’d make dinner and share it with him a couple of nights every week, and in turn Frankie would take care of the maintenance in your apartment so your landlord wouldn’t find out about Waffles, the cat you’re not supposed to have. Frankie quickly became one of your best friends.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, sweetheart. Yes, you can help by telling me what your reason is for beating the shit out of that wall we share,” he says. “What are you even doing?”

“Sorry, the drawer to my nightstand was stuck and I was trying to open it,” you stated.

“Did you get it?”

“Did I get what?”

“Did you get the door open,” he clarifies.

“No,” you answer.

“So if I leave, are you gonna keep banging on the wall?” Frankie asks. You shrug. “That’s a yes,” he says. “Would you like me to help you open it?”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Need to sleep, I got an early morning.”

You open the door wider to let Frankie inside. Waffles makes his appearance at that moment and meows at Frankie. “Yeah, yeah,” he says to the cat. “Hello to you too, pancake.”

“Waffles,” you correct. “That’s such a dumb joke.”

Frankie snickers, “Funny to me,” he smirks.

You lead him to your bedroom and point at the nightstand. “That one,” you tell him. It’s an old nightstand, and it might’ve been nice at one point, but it was handed down to you by your brother who no doubt absolutely wrecked the poor piece of furniture. It’s a little crooked now, and the drawer’s tracks are bent so it never opens and closes nicely.

Frankie tries opening the drawer but struggles just as you did. You don’t mind though, because from where you’re standing, you’ve got a perfect view of his ass that’s definitely filled out some since you began feeding the man. “You weren’t lying. Damn thing really is fucking stuck, huh?” Frankie grunts as he tries wriggling it open again, “What’s even in here that you need so urgently anyway?”

Oh, fuck. You didn’t even think about that, that he’d be seeing your rose toy and only your rose toy in that drawer. “Umm,” you think, “My phone charger.” Which is a dumb lie, because right next to Frankie is the outlet your charger is plugged into. Quietly, you pull it out and toss it under your bed so he doesn’t see.

“It’s really jammed,” Frankie says. “Fuck.”

“I know, just be careful, please,” you tell him. “You don’t need to open it all the way. Actually, you don’t even have to open it at all, if it’s too much.”

That was the wrong thing to say to deter Frankie from opening your drawer. He’s got quite the competitive streak in him, so your comment only fuels him to pull the drawer harder. He pulls the nightstand away from the wall and gives it one good and strong tug and the drawer flies open, and with it your rose toy, right into Frankie. He catches it with ease, and you could die right then and there.

“I know what this is,” Frankie murmurs quietly, turning around to face you. “So that’s your treasure chest, huh?”

With your face and your neck on fire, you try to swipe the toy out of Frankie’s hand but he pulls it out of reach. “Frankie, give it,” you snap.

“No, no,” he smiles. “I gotta see this thing.”

Frankie swats you away as you try to take the toy back from him. He uses one hand and fumbles with it until it whizzes to life, the tongue flicking up and down in his hand. “Oh, wow,” he says. “Quite the motor in this baby.” Frankie holds the toy away from you as you try and try to grab it from him, but his grip is too strong. Finally, you give up and let him entertain himself with the thing. It’ll be an uncomfortable five minutes, but it’ll be over eventually. He’ll lose interest, just like a toddler.

You sit on the bed and Frankie sits next to you as he messes with the toy. He hums as he holds the flicking tongue against the palm of his hand. “This can’t be fun,” he comments. “But if it works for you, who am I to judge?”

“It is fun,” you defend. “It…yeah. It’s fun.”

“But it’s so cold. And stiff,” Frankie argues. “No finesse, either.”

His comment has you intrigued, “Frankie, what do you mean, ‘no finesse’?”

“Well, look here,” Frankie shows you the toy, “Look at the tongue. It just goes up and down. It’s mechanical, you know? There’s no fluidity,” he explains. “And it sounds like those tools they use on you at the dentist’s office.”

“Oh.”

“But, you know. If you’re happy with it, then more power to ya, I guess.” You nod as you take in the words Frankie speaks, staring at that whirring toy in his big hands your mind starts to wander. “Are you happy with it?” he asks.

“Yeah, I guess,” you reply. “It’s fine.”

“Fine, huh? How’s it compare?”

“Compare to what?”

“You know,” Frankie says. “The real deal.”

“Well, I don’t really receive ‘the real deal’,” you admit quietly. “So…”

“Ohhh. I get it. No frame of reference, then,” Frankie replies. A beat passes as he shuts off the toy. “Would you like the real deal?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, who wouldn’t. But–”

Frankie interrupts, “No, I’m askin’ you. Right now, would you like the real deal? Feel what it’s supposed to feel like from a real man?”

You understand what Frankie’s asking now. Your mouth drops open and you feel that exciting sort of lurch in your stomach.

“Feel a real man, with real lips, a real tongue. Real hands. We’ll broaden your horizons. What do you say?”

It almost doesn’t feel real. You laugh, uncomfortably, but Frankie looks at you with all seriousness. You can’t believe you’re gonna say yes. Of course you’re gonna say yes. Looking at Frankie, you nod quickly.

“Words, baby,” he says. “How about a yes?”

It’s the way he calls you baby, with no hesitation. “Yes. Yes, definitely. I need that.”

“Need, huh? Poor thing,” Frankie places the toy on your nightstand and moves up your bed, inviting you to join him. He notices your shaky legs as you crawl to meet him, your movements unsure. “Relax,” he whispers, smiling at you. “Relax.” You nod and your nerves ignite as Frankie touches you, his big hand holding your face. “I’m just gonna kiss you. That’s all for now.”

“Okay.”

And then he does. He kisses you gently at first, taking mental notes of how you react. You’re rigid at first, but he just kisses you. Nothing more, nothing less. When he feels your muscles relax and you let go a little bit, let yourself fall back and relax into your bed, Frankie takes initiative and kisses you deeper. He smiles when you moan quietly into his mouth, then kisses down your jaw and your neck. “Your toy can’t kiss you like I can, huh?”

“No, Frankie,” you sigh.

“So that’s another point Frankie, then,” he mumbles against your skin. You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t enjoying yourself so much. “May I lift your shirt?”

“Mhm,” you nod, loving the way he asks permission. Frankie pushes the fabric up your chest and he wears a smirk on his face, and he’s got a certain sparkle to his dark eyes as he takes in your body, all of your soft, creamy flesh, your pebbled nipples. “And actually,” he says, reaching for your rose toy and turning it back on. “Since we’re comparing - experimenting, really, we should test both variables. Scientific method and all that.”

“This doesn’t feel very scientific,” you tell him, giggling as you speak.

“Sure it is, I’m a professional at this. Been studying for years. Watch - Do you prefer…” Frankie begins, he brings the toy to one of your nipples and lets the tongue flick back and forth over it. “One…” he whispers, though you can hardly hear him over your own gasps and moans. “Or two?” he licks the nipple not being teased by your toy, first swirling his tongue in circles around your areola and then gently sucks the sensitive skin. Your noises are music to his ears as your moans become louder.

“Two,” you answer, “Two.”

“You know why that is?” he asks, moving to lick and tease your other nipple. “Because your toy can’t go in circles, can’t suck. Can’t really tease you , either. Can’t do most of the things you’re supposed to do to a pair of tits as pretty as yours, sweetheart.” Frankie watches your reaction to his words, smirking as your cheeks heat up and you turn your face from him. “It’s true. You’re beautiful.”

After a few more moments of Frankie kissing and licking your nipples, he presses sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your torso, over your tummy. “Would you lift those hips for me, sweetheart?”

You lift your hips like he asks and Frankie hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs. His hand brushes over a damp spot of the fabric, and he rubs his thumb over it, admiring. “Good god, you made a mess. This all for me? Just from a little kissing?”

You nod bashfully, unsure of what to say to him. Frankie doesn’t mind, he knows that this is the part where a woman is likely to feel a little shy, vulnerable. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s working with here with you, whether you’ve received head before or not. Maybe you have, but it’s been a long time. Or maybe it was bad. He thinks about your answer to one of his questions, how you told him you’re not really receiving ‘the real deal’ and he doesn’t need to know why, he just needs to change that and eat you like his life depends on it.

Eating pussy is Frankie’s passion. Nothing compares to it, being buried in that soft, warm, wet space between a woman’s thighs. Simultaneously, it makes him feel both submissive and powerful. He loves the way some become shy when he eats them, he loves the way others shove his face between their legs. He loves the feeling of having his hair pulled as he licks, when thighs squeeze his head and he has to ease them back open. He loves the way her whole body quivers when she comes, he loves the taste, the smell, the feel and the intimacy of it all.

Frankie places both hands on your knees and spreads your legs wide so he has space for himself between them. He begins by kissing your inner thighs, the wiry hairs of his patchy, graying beard and his mustache tickle you. “We’re gonna compare again. Are you ready, beautiful?”

“Yes,” you answer. “I’m ready.”

Frankie brings the rose to your core and allows it to do its thing. He chuckles as you reach for his hand and adjust the way he holds the toy against your pussy to your needs. “Gotta hold it like that, huh?”

“Yeah, like that.”

“Duly noted.”

Frankie rests the side of his head against one of your thighs and watches you as the toy works its magic. You’re moaning nicely, but he’ll make you moan louder. He loves the way your brows knit together, he loves the steady rise and fall of your chest with your panting breaths.

It feels so foreign, having Frankie hold the toy instead of your own hands. It still feels good, though. You rock your hips into it, chasing your quickly building orgasm.

And then Frankie shuts it off. “Frankie,” you whine. “You–”

“I know, I know. You were having so much fun. But I’ve got a fucking bone to pick.”

“What?”

“Your toy’s blocking the view. I don’t wanna see that, I wanna see you.”

Frankie tosses the toy to the side of the bed and once more spreads your legs wide. He admires your pussy, the glistening wetness dripping from your hole, the ribbons of creamy arousal on your folds. And your bush, he loves the dampened curls framing your beautiful cunt. “Such a pretty pussy,” he praises. “You gonna let me show you what you’ve been missing?”

“Please, Frankie,” you beg. “I want that.”

“You’re so sweet t’me,” he whispers. Frankie situates himself, adjusts your hips into position. He licks one long stripe up your seam, slowly and with a flat tongue, from the bottom all the way to the top.

“Frankie,” you moan. “Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, I know,” Frankie coos. “That felt good, didn’t it? That piece of plastic can’t lick you like that, can it?”

“No,” you agree. “Again, Frankie, please.”

“It’d be my pleasure, sweetheart.”

He licks another long stripe up you, then down. He focuses on just tasting you, getting you used to the feeling of his tongue in your folds. “Your toy doesn’t go in circles down here either, that's what the tongue is supposed to do.” Frankie demonstrates this by drawing circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue, first clockwise, then counter clockwise. Interestingly, your loudening moans indicate you prefer counter clockwise. Frankie takes note of this, files it away in his head.

“And it doesn’t suck your clit,” he adds, “Like this –” he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it between them, causing your legs to clamp around his head, just like he loves. And though he loves it, that uncontrollable, mindless reflex, he whispers to you, “Nuh-uh, sweetheart. You spread those legs nice and wide. That’s it, good girl.”

It’s such an intense feeling, your clit between his lips and the pressure of his mouth sucking. He switches back to gentle but consistent licks on the sensitive part of you. “And you can correct me if I’m wrong, but you can’t really finger yourself while usin’ your toy, can you?”

“Haven’t - haven’t tried, I don’t think - fuck, Frankie - I don’t –”

“Mm. I understand.”

Frankie pulls away from you and dips two fingers into your cunt, pumping them in and out for a moment before he curls them rhythmically inside you. He finds that special, sensitive spot that intensifies all of it and moves his mouth to your clit yet again.

He eats you ravenously, losing himself in your pussy yet manages to maintain focus on you. He feels you coming close, that slow build of your orgasm quickening in time, and he wants to drag it out. “The other thing –” he begins, “About your little toy. It takes all the hard work away, makes it less satisfying for us both, don’t you think?” he says in between pleasuring you with his tongue and his fingers. “Takes all the fun away.”

Frankie reaches for your clit with his free hand and pulls your hood back. He flicks his tongue over you and you respond to the intensified feeling by reaching for his head, tugging his soft curls between your fingers. “Frankie, oh my god. Frankie,” you cry.

“Listen to yourself,” he says. “You moan so pretty when I’m tasting you, don’t you think?”

It’s unclear whether Frankie expects you to answer his question or not, but you do in your own way, with his name falling from your lips in broken syllables. Your orgasm builds slowly, more intensely, in a more gratifying way than you’ve ever felt. You don’t just feel it in your core, between your thighs, but you feel it in your tummy and the bottom of your spine, the backs of your thighs and all down your legs. You come with a melody of curses and praises as pleasure washes over you in seemingly never ending waves, Frankie using his tongue to fuck you through it until the very end, when you’re shuddering and your body is twitching.

You’ve never seen such a cocky, satisfied smile before. When you open your eyes, Frankie’s smirking between your thighs, absolutely pleased with himself as he sucks his fingers clean. “So what’s the verdict?”

You smile and roll your eyes. “You know what the verdict is.”

“Mhm. I do, but I gotta hear you say it anyway.”

“It’s you,” you mumble, a grin on your lips. “You win.”

Frankie beams proudly, and the moment passes quickly. It ends with a knock on your door as your UberEats is delivered. “Who’s that?” Frankie asks.

“Dinner,” you answer. You sit up in bed and find your pajama shorts, put them on and leave your bedroom to get your food. Frankie follows you as you open your front door and bend over to get your order. You put the bag in your fridge.

“You’re not gonna eat?”

“I need to return the favor,” you tell him. “It’s your turn.”

“I’m flattered, but what you need to do is eat, my darling. Enjoy your meal. I enjoyed mine.” You roll your eyes at the way Frankie winks at you. “We can worry about returning the favor later,” he presses a chaste kiss to your lips, your taste and smell lingers on his skin and in his mustache. You hum in surprise. “You taste that? Tastes good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmur.

“Tastes good to me too. Nice reminder of what we were just doing, hm? You looked so pretty underneath me.” Frankie kisses you again, “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says, and with that, he leaves.

If you enjoyed, please tell me so 🩷 reblogs, comments, and asks are so appreciated and keep me motivated to write

THIS IS WAFFLES! @beefrobeefcal’s cat!! One of them at least. I love this guy. Mr President. He’s the mayor

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction

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6esiree · 3 months

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They Barge Into Your Room While You’re Changing

Imagine Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Vox, and Adam walking in on you changing? Well, for the most part, they barge in and catch you in a difficult situation.

Warnings: I suck at these but uhh, NSFW, AFAB reader, Swearing, Usage of terms like good girl/little girl, oral, penetration, smut is brief tho. Not proofread. I wrote this lil thingy super quickly—sorry for the wait! MINORS DNI!!!

Alastor:

The sound of something shattering had Alastor’s ears perking up, but it wasn’t until it was followed by your helpless cry that he grew curious. You seemed…troubled, desperate even, so how could he resist the temptation to barge into your room? But as he whipped open your door, the doorknob rudely slamming against the cheap wooden paneling, he was disappointed but also slightly amused to see you stuck in a rather strange predicament.

“Fuck! Stupid thing—why won’t you come off?” You hissed, struggling to free your arms from a shirt that was nowhere near your size, your knees planted on the carpet. “Alastor? Oh, are you going to stand there and make me feel more embarrassed than I already am, or are you going to help me?” You snapped, your vulnerable state pleasing him. He closed the door behind him, his fingers carefully twisting the lock.

“Oh, forgive me for answering your pathetic cries for help! Perhaps I should take a seat over there,” Alastor gestured to your bed with his cane, bending down to your level, a shit-eating grin on his face, “And watch this amusing scene you’ve somehow concocted as punishment for your attitude, little girl.”

‘Wait, no!’ You started, but Alastor turned on his heel, the tip of his shoe dragging against the carpet fibers and pushing aside the remnants of your bedside lamp. ‘How thoughtful,’ You deadpanned, your bed creaking underneath his weight. Out of all the people who could have barged into your room, why did it have to be Alastor? He was such a pain in the ass, finding enjoyment in watching others suffer.

“What are you waiting for, hm?” You felt the butt end of Alastor’s cane tap at your ass, and you would have cursed him out if he hadn’t flipped your skirt up, the cold material teasingly dragging up and down your clothed cunt. “Go on, darling, I’ll help you if you put on a little show for me.”

You offered him a ‘Fuck you,’ before complying, hooking your fingers into the collar of your shirt, a distant ache coursing through your muscles as you pulled once more. You felt utterly humiliated, but at the same time, you were secretly enjoying what Alastor was doing to you, shivering as his lips parted with a pleased sigh at the sight of your panties bunching up and outlining your cunt due to your wetness.

“For someone who wanted to be helped, you’re being awfully compliant,” Alastor chuckled. You bit the inside of your cheek, however, especially with the sound of a belt being unbuckled gracing your ears. “Tell me, do you want to get fucked by my cane like the filthy little harlot you are?”

“I’m not…going to tell you that,” You stammered, Alastor clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment. Even if you had done so, the tightness in his pants was just too great for him to indulge you. “Very well, then,” He said, tapping your cunt one last time before withdrawing his cane.

You looked over your shoulder, confused by the sudden turn of events. But then he approached you, kneeling down to tear into your shirt with his claw, freeing your arms from the tight cotton prison. ‘Am I receiving compensation for this?’ Alastor hummed, sporting a hefty erection. Of course the bastard had only helped you for his own personal benefit, but you nodded anyway, his eyes widening as you wiggled your ass with a wicked smile on your face.

Lucifer:

Another boring, sleepless night at the Hazbin Hotel—or so that’s what Lucifer thought, the distant sound of a struggle penetrating his ears as he passed by your room. He would’ve continued on his nightly stroll if his feet hadn’t moved outside of his own volition. Well, that’s what Lucifer tried to convince himself as he tentatively pressed his cheek against the door…until the loose hinges suddenly gave him away. At least he was quick to straighten himself out.

“Oh! Hey there—hi! I didn’t mean to do that,” Lucifer coughed, his face flushing in embarrassment as you stared back at him like a deer caught in the headlights, your arms crossed over your chest, obscuring the top half of the tight little, long-sleeved dress you were wearing. “I tried to knock, I swear, but then the door kind of opened up all by itself. Really, I would never—“

“I, uh—I believe you, don’t worry. The hinges are kind of loose…I have a bad habit of slamming doors,” You chuckled, trying to stand up to your full height, but then the sound of fabric tearing echoed throughout your room. “Oh my God, that’s so embarrassing,” You squeaked, “I can’t handle anybody else seeing me like this, though, so could you like, help me out here?”

When you whispered his name with a pleading look on your face, Lucifer quickly closed the door behind him, dragging a random piece of furniture in front of it for extra measure. He tried not to make his nervousness evident as he slowly rounded you, but his fingers gave him away, trembling against your sides. Fuck, it was just so tight, accentuating the curvature of your body almost like a corset would.

“Alright, let’s see here—oh no,” Lucifer said, his fingers hooking underneath your dress from the sides, experimentally tugging it. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t budge, a blush crawling up his neck as it rolled up and revealed more of your skin instead. “Nope, that’s not going to work. How about I lift it up?”

“Please, this thing is practically strangling my arms,” You stuttered. Lucifer wondered how you managed to get it on in the first place, all while he gripped the dress, trying to maintain a respectable distance from you. “Shit, I’m never borrowing anything from Angel’s closet again. He’s so damn skinny.”

Lucifer tried to avert his eyes, but with your ass slowly coming into view, how could he resist stealing a glance—or two, or three, or even four? He felt so guilty, but then you just so happened to lose your balance, bracing yourself on the bed and practically showcasing your half-naked body to him. You offered him a meek apology as you stared at him from over your shoulder. Did you get back up, though? No, not at all.

“Maybe you’ll be able to get it off faster this way?” You suggested, subtly but not so subtly spreading your legs, revealing your damp panties. Lucifer breathed out an ‘Okay,’ pressing his growing erection into you as he leaned in. “Thanks for helping me, Lucifer. I hope you’ll let me repay you for your kindness.”

The moment you decided to balance yourself on the bed, Lucifer knew what you were doing; but your words had his pants pooling around his ankles, his fingers shakily tucking your panties into the inside of your thigh. Nothing could compare to the sight of you spreading your glistening cunt with your dainty fingers, however, your hole pulsating in invitation. Lucifer was so, so glad he chose not to mind his own business as his cock pushed past your folds.

Husk:

Every day you slid onto the barstool in front of Husk, his chest vibrating in amusement as your face lit up at the sight of your favorite drink waiting for you. That’s why the one time you failed to show up, the full glass in front of your vacant spot dripping with condensation and threatening the integrity of the already cheep wooden countertop, he decided to ask around for you. Unfortunately, nobody knew where you were, so Husk found himself at your door.

“Hey, doll, I don’t mean to disturb ya,” Husk started, his ears falling back against his head as a frustrated cry penetrated the wood. “Just wanted to check up on ya—“ but when he heard something shatter, he just had to let himself into your room, his heart sinking into his stomach at the thought of you in trouble.

“What the fuck, who—Husk?” You panted, staring back at him with rosy cheeks and tousled hair, the contents of a broken bottle of perfume leaking into the carpet before your feet. ‘Shit,’ Husk quickly averted his eyes when he noticed you were in the middle of changing, feeling utterly embarrassed but also secretly relieved that you were alright. “Uhh, I guess now that you’re here, do you think you could lend me a hand?”

Husk hesitated, mumbling ‘Ya sure ya want me to help?’ Of course he’d act so abashed, you thought with a snort. You watched him roll his eyes and close the door with his tail, the hinges softly clicking. Slowly, Husk approached you, his pupils dilating as you turned around and pointed out the strings tightly keeping your dress together with your index finger, the very reason you had failed to show up on time.

“Christ, what happened here?” Husk asked, trying to be mindful of his claws as he slowly untied your dress, the strings in all the wrong places. You looked over your shoulder, playfully telling him to shut up before following up with a serious response. “I’ve never worn a dress without a zipper, alright?” You said. “Damn, doll, I can tell. I mean, ya made a proper mess back here.”

“Hey, I wore this for you,” You admitted, your face flushing in embarrassment as Husk chuckled at that, but then relief quickly washed over you at the feeling of him completely undoing the last string. “I appreciate it, but, ya know,” He practically purred into your ear, plastering himself against your back, his hands sliding into your dress to caress your bare hips. “This is enough to please this old man.”

You tossed your head back onto Husk’s shoulder with a sigh, your eyes fluttering shut as his sandpaper tongue seized the opportunity to roughly caress the expanse of your throat. Meanwhile, the once-constricting fabric slipped from your chest down to your stomach, revealing more of your body to him. ‘May I?’ Husk’s question tickled your skin, answering him by pushing your ass back into his growing erection.

“Mm, aren’t ya just the goodest of girls?” Husk groaned, encouraging you to brace yourself on your dresser nearby. When he kicked your legs open, you expected him to unfasten his pants and fuck you til your legs were numb, but no. Instead, he knelt down, hiking a leg over his shoulder and shoving his snout into your clothed cunt, a smile gracing his lips when you gasped. “Is this fine with ya?”

Oh, you were more than fine with Husk eating you out, eagerly nodding as you stared down at him through your lashes. He licked a long, heavy stripe onto you before deciding to tear into your panties with his claw, exposing you to the cold air. ‘I’ll buy ya anotha pair, babydoll,’ Husk said, latching onto your clit, suckling until you were wet enough to handle the spines on his tongue. You secretly thanked yourself for your inability to use a zipper-less dress.

Vox:

The sound of heels clicking against linoleum echoed throughout the hallway, a product of Vox incessantly pacing back and forth. His patience thinned with every passing second, and as exaggerated as it seemed, you were already late to your dinner reservation. Five, maybe ten minutes was perfectly reasonable to him, but half an hour? No, you might as well call it off. When Vox felt himself overheating in frustration, he decided to zap himself into your room.

“Now, what the fuck is taking you—oh,” Vox said, the look of annoyance on his face quickly transitioning into one of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes, trying to understand the situation you had inadvertently designed. “What in the Hell—how did you do this to yourself, exactly?” Vox gestured with his hand, your arms sticking up with the way your dress was pulled over your head.

“It was too tight and I refused to accept that I had gained weight,” You explained, your voice muffled but understandable nonetheless. Vox couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched your mouth move against the fabric. “But then I put it on, and I realized if I even thought about trying to walk in this—look, can you just save me from the embarrassment and get this thing off of me?”

You impatiently bounced on your heels as Vox rounded you, squeaking at the feeling of his claws teasingly raking your sides. ‘Hey!’ You said, the man offering you an insincere apology before tearing into the fabric without your permission. A whine escaped your throat—what a cruel thing he had done, you thought, your favorite dress falling to the ground in two pieces. Seething, you turned around, unbothered by the fact that you were standing in just your underwear.

“You asshole, you didn’t even try pulling it!” You seized him by his suit jacket, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared down at you without a single ounce of regret. “Perhaps you should have specified that,” Vox hummed, clearly unaffected by your display of anger. In fact, he found it rather amusing, and oh, did that piss you off.

“Ah, fuck me! I’m sorry for believing that you had common sense,” You hissed, tightening your grip on his jacket, secretly wishing you had the strength to tear into it like he had with your dress. “Unless you don’t have that implemented in your system, you fucking bucket of bolts,” Vox furrowed his brows, “I suggest you download it—it’ll take you a long way, trust me.”

Bam!—Vox suddenly had you up against the wall, whatever you had on top of your dresser tumbling to the ground. You flinched at the sound of something shattering, but you couldn’t do anything about it, not when Vox had your arms pinned above your head with one hand, the other firmly wrapped around your throat. His claws dug into your skin, instilling a bit of fear in your heart.

“Hey, um, I think you’re forgetting that we could have been having a nice, romantic dinner at one of Hell’s most exclusive restaurants,” Vox started, his screen slightly buffering as he stared down at you. “If you hadn’t been so fucking stubborn.” You had the nerve to speak. “So…what now?” You shakily asked, your throat bobbing underneath his palm.

With an insurmountable speed, Vox had you on your knees, forcing you to watch him unbuckle his belt. ‘I’m going to fuck the shit of your mouth,’ He said, the tip of his cock kissing your chin when he finally freed himself. ‘Come on, sweetheart. It’s the least you can do.’ You hated to admit it, but Vox was right…to some degree. All of this could have been avoided easily. So, you obediently parted your lips, trying not to gag as you swallowed his cock.

Adam:

There was no such thing as barging into your room—at least not if you asked Adam. Your monthly meet-ups consisted of him descending onto your balcony and pushing your doors apart, furling his wings and discarding his mask as he’s welcomed by the heavenly but not so heavenly sight of you sprawled out on your bed. For once, however, Adam arrived about an hour earlier, walking in on you in the middle of a struggle.

“Surprise, surprise! Guess who’s here early—holy shit, babe,” Adam approached you, shocked, your face absolutely flushed as he took in the sight of you in a corset. He personally believed you didn’t need it, but that didn’t stop him from stirring in his robes with the way it accentuated your curves in an ungodly manner. “This is—I mean—wow. You look so fucking gorgeous.”

“I’m glad you think so, seriously. But, um, I’m starting to regret putting it on,” You admitted, dropping your head sort of shamefully. You really wanted to keep it on for Adam, but you had tightened it more than you should have, and now you just wanted to take it off. “I’ve been trying to get it off for a while already, but uh, I went a little overboard. Never worn one before, that’s why.”

Of course, Adam’s face dropped at your admission, but at the same time, he couldn’t have you feeling uncomfortable for your…activities. So, he offered you his help, even though he had not a single idea about how corsets worked. ‘Don’t worry, babe, I gotcha!’ He said, taking one last appreciating look before he rounded you. Yeah, Adam instantly regretted offering himself up—what the fuck was he looking at, exactly?

“Alright, uh, could you guide me through it?” Adam coughed, his fingers hovering above the laces, unsure about where to start. You reached behind you and grabbed his hand, gingerly guiding him. “Just undo these two loops here—pull them at the same time,” He followed your instructions. “Yeah, just like that, baby.” The praise definitely had him blushing.

You let out a sigh of relief as Adam repeated this over and over again, his fingers dutifully working away until he finally finished. ‘Thank you,’ You breathed out, tossing your head back onto his chest, reaching up and tapping his masked cheek. Adam quickly discarded it with a ‘Thump!’, leaning down to meet you halfway. He groaned, the sound of your lips softly gliding against each other exciting him.

“Do you have to take it off?” Adam asked as his hands came down to caress your sides before resuming the kiss. While you didn’t give him a verbal response, the way you groped him through his robes was a reminder of what he came to you for. “Fuck, okay. Maybe some other time, yeah?”

“Mm, you’re going to have to convince me,” You hummed, retracting your hand so you could open the front busk. Adam seized your jaw and placed his thumb on your lower lip, encouraging you to open your mouth. “You’re in for a long fucking night then, babe,” His tongue tangled with yours, eliciting a choked moan from you, “‘Cause I’m not gonna let up on you til you’re screaming ‘Yes.’”

As soon as your corset united with Adam’s mask, he turned you around and hoisted you up into his arms. You squeaked, the bed creaking loudly with your combined weight. His robes came off with a snap of his fingers, but your panties? Oh, he relished in pulling those aside himself. Slowly, his cock pushed past your folds, two fingers affectionately rubbing at your clit while his mouth latched onto your nipple and suckled. Adam was going to convince you, alright.

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