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ohsuguru · 14 days

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sukuna finally, finally takes his best friend's virginity ⁀ ❣︎

˚ʚ minors, ageless and blank blogs dni! ɞ˚

cw: virgin fem! reader, p in v, unprotected sex (pls wrap before you tap), dirty talk, pet names used, slight overstimulation, slight corruption kink on sukuna's end

an: i think i got a bit carried away (｡· v ·｡) ? heehee / part 2 of this!

"ease up, woman."

"i can't, ryo..."

you hear a disapproving tsk from your best friend, his muscular body caging yours into his plush mattress. your legs are hiked around his thick waist, your wrists pinned above your head by one of his large hands.

despite his tsk, however, his free hand is gentle on your thigh, rubbing the flesh there softly as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss to try and distract you from the tight pressure that's bubbling in your fluttering core below.

"you sure you wanna do this, pretty?" sukuna asks you, his voice quiet but gravelly, the timbre of it sending shivers down your spine. "we don't need to if you don't want to."

you immediately shake your head, wanting nothing more than to have your best friend take you right here, right now.

"want you, 'kuna," you mumble as you wiggle your wrists out of his hold and instead interlace one of your hands with his, the other one moving to rest on his chest, right above his beating heart. "please."

a slight smile plays on his kiss-bitten lips and he nods before he drags his lengthy, throbbing cock against your slick folds once more. his mushroom tip bumps against your clit, once, twice, three times, a tacky sound echoing through the room before he drags it down to your leaky hole.

"it'll hurt just a little," sukuna warns you, his crimson eyes flickering from where your bodies almost meet below to look into your eyes. "but you're my good girl, right? you can take a bit of pain, yeah, pretty?"

you nod, giving his hand a gentle but reassuring squeeze, expression pleading and needy. and before you could even suck in a breath, sukuna aligns himself and pushes in, your body arching at the sudden pinch. your hand grips his, facial expression morphing into one of both pain and pleasure as sukuna continues to guide his thickness into your warm cunt.

"fuuuuck, girl," sukuna groans out sinfully as he bottoms out in you, your gummy walls slowly stretching out to try and accommodate your best friend. "pussy's so tight that she almost made me cum early."

he shoots you a mischievous smirk as sukuna tries to keep the situation light but raunchy before he leans down to press a soft kiss onto your slightly sweaty forehead, his hand still holding onto yours gently.

"you're doing alright, yeah?" he mumbles against your forehead, always making sure to put your comfort and pleasure above his. you were his best friend after all.

"mhm," you hum sweetly in return as you clench around him to get used to his hardness. "doing good, 'kuna."

and at your words, he starts to move, in and out. in and out. slowly at first, almost tortuously as his bulbous head catches and nudges every groove and soft, spongey areas in your cunt. your eyes flutter. your breath hitches. your lips part.

"sukuna, you're teasing me," you whine as you give his hand a harder squeeze. "thought 'm your good girl, but you're– you're going sooo slow."

a sharp chuckle of laughter leaves his lips as he stills, only his tip nestled in your warmness, leaving the rest of it glistening with your sweet juices.

"oh, suddenly my good girl's got a mouth on her now, huh?" sukuna jests, his eyes flickering with a condescending and challenging glint. "a taste of dick and suddenly she's a slut."

and to punctuate his words, sukuna slams back into you in one go, completely stretching you out once more. sukuna rips out the most sinful moan from your lips as he ruts into you, almost like he's trying to fuck the brat out of you.

"sukuna!" you yelp as your best friends drills into your drooling cunt, his fat tip bullying your gummy walls, his thrusts sharp and mean. "wait– s'too much–"

another dark chuckle leaves his lips as he tsks at you, crimson eyes glinting with a tinge of malice. your expression morphs into one of pure ecstasy as your cunt spams around his one.

"oh no, pretty," the pink-haired man coos as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze despite the brutal pace he's setting with the only intention of making sure that his best friend's pussy is moulded to his dick and only his dick. "you asked for this. you and this greedy, sloppy cunt."

his dirty and sinful words send waves of pleasure down your back which makes your legs tighten around his abs, keeping him locked in against your body.

"fuck," he groans as he moves to suck a hickey onto the swell of your tit as he feels his entire length continuously get sucked in deeper into your velvet walls, pussy leaking your sweet juices all over him. "pussy's so good to me. wanna live in here forever."

his free hand cups your free breast, showering it with some attention too, fingers deftly pinch and roll your budding nipple which makes you croon, your voice taking on a lewd, saccharine tone. the room soon smells of sex and sweat, the soundtrack of skin slapping against each other with a satisfying pap-pap-pap, his heavy balls smacking against the globes of your ass.

you feel his dick twitch and throb in you, swelling as he sucks another harsh hickey onto your chest almost as if he's trying to stave off from finishing too quickly. it was like your cunt was made for him and only him, the grip it has on his length, warm and gooey ridges that drag against the veins alongside his girth, his slit not kissing - no, no - but fucking your cervix.

sukuna had always prided himself on his stamina, but when he was buried hilt deep in his best friend's pussy? that word meant jack shit in his vocabulary.

"ryo, m'gonna cum," you gasp out, your pitchy voice dragging him out of his stupor that he tightens his grip on your hand as you rake down your nails down his muscled back, leaving a trail of red marks against his skin which he'll brandish proudly. "m'close–"

"then fuckin' cum, girl," he grits out, trying his best to get you to finish first before him, wanting to feel you cum on his cock. to feel your pussy spasm and pulse around him. to feel your juices gush around him, knowing that this was his doing.

and just like that, that coil in your lower abdomen snaps as you cry out his name like a pornstar, your entire body tightening like a vice around him as you burst out in pleasure, searing white behind your eyes, lips slick with drool.

sukuna immediately falls straight after with a loud groan as he buries his face in your neck, his hips stuttering as he shoots ropes and ropes of thick cum into your needy cunt, painting your insides white. the skin between your bodies is sticky with a mix of your essences, slippery when wet, but also tacky and warm.

sukuna ruts into you a couple more times, making sure that his cum is thoroughly fucked into you, but you immediately try to squirm away from overstimulation. a sadistic thought flashes through his mind, wanting to train your body, push you through your overstimulation, eager to make a complete mess out of you.

but he relents and pulls out his cock from your body, his crimson eyes focused intently on how his cum pools out of your twitchy hole and onto the sheets below, and he swears if he could've busted another nut just at this sight alone.

"ryo," you whimper quietly which makes him immediately soften and he leans over to press a soft peck to your lips. your expression is dazed but sweet and pretty, satisfied beyond relief, and a strange sense of pride blooms between sukuna's lungs.

"sleep, pretty," he urges softly, finally letting go of your hand to cup your face.

"i'll clean you up."

#li shen writes - ˚ʚ❣︎ɞ˚#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x you smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x you smut #anime smut

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sinsofsummers · 10 months

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push & pull

5.7k | din djarin x f!reader

summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.

With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.

"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"

Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.

That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.

But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.

You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.

So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).

You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.

This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.

There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—

Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.

—

It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.

Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.

"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.

You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."

His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?

"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.

You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"

He didn't answer.

"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."

"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.

"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."

Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."

He didn't answer for a moment.

"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."

You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."

"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."

"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.

This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.

You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."

With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"

"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."

—

You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.

On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.

As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.

Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.

This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.

Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.

It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.

And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.

You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.

It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.

"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.

He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.

"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."

You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.

"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."

If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."

You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.

They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."

Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.

When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.

"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"

You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.

Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.

You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?

Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.

"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.

His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."

You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.

"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.

"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.

"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"

His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"

"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."

Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."

You swallowed roughly. "So?"

He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."

Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."

"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.

To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.

He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."

You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.

Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.

With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.

He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."

You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.

The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.

The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."

You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"

He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."

You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”

This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind.

With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like.

Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?

Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.

“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead.

His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”

“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.

You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving.

“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”

You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean.

“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”

“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”

When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently.

Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him.

Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar.

“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”

He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”

“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”

Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”

Well, how were you going to deny him then?

You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance.

“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”

A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.”

He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared.

“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”

He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”

Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth.

You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly.

Now…now you needed him inside you.

“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?”

He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again.

You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la.

“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged.

“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”

Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue.

His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”

“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”

You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck.

Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled.

Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”

You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.

Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege.

“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him.

You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.

You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”

He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you.

The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again.

“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release.

You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”

For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”

tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!

adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE

this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl

the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #virgin!din djarin #din djarin x experienced!reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fic

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kentopedia · 7 days

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold.

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity.

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants.

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards.

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding.

he can feel the man swallowing.

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well.

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand.

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you.

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity.

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you.

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them.

limply, they fall to the floor.

chuuya rushes over to you.

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it.

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing.

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?”

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?”

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either.

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.”

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.”

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones.

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.”

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.”

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later.

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.”

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off.

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him.

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage.

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course.

but you… you’re different.

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.”

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own.

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable.

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you.

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow.

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy.

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets.

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found.

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain.

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him.

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain.

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding.

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips.

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you.

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads.

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.”

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?”

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.”

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken.

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word.

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you.

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies.

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest.

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well.

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating.

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe.

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend.

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.”

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation.

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you.

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation.

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own.

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed.

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive.

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them.

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall.

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive.

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes.

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats.

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile.

dazai hums. “you the leader?”

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you.

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all.

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him.

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become.

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple.

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.”

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.”

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?”

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.”

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

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loafgeto · 6 months

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ᝬ 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗜 𝗦𝗞𝗜𝗥𝗧 ⤵︎

gojo satoru x fem!reader

synopsis: you are the teacher assistant for gojo satoru and the first years. in everyone’s eyes, you both are known as the duo who tolerate each other. but behind closed doors, you both can’t seem to get your hands away. and during a cookout, you seem to be capturing someone else’s attention, causing satoru to become jealous.

cw: fem reader, 18+ mdni, explicit language, secret relationship, jealous gojo, cocky gojo, teasing, dirty talking, edging, markings/hickeys, overstimulation, squirting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, somewhat jealous sex, creampie, breast play, sucking and biting, begging, cock warming, pet names (baby, darling), different positions, gojo telling/controlling reader what to do. this isn’t proofread, and if you see any typos pls ignore 😢

wc: 3.9k

a/n: HELP I HAD TO REPOST THIS DUE TO SOME ISSUES. LMFAOOO HOPEFULLY THIS POST IS BETTER NOW, TOJI ONE SHOT NEXT

You've been working at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech for almost a year now, as the teacher assistant of Gojo Satoru. You honestly never thought you'd be the strongest sorcerer's assistant, but Satoru happened to request for someone by his side. Thus, lead to your encounter.

When you were first introduced to Satoru, it was like any other first impression for him, admiration. He was rather nonchalant and playful around you, knowing how to push your buttons, and definitely confident in himself. That admiration quickly turned into toleration, but you remained respectful towards him.

Things began to change during the third month of being his assistant.

After a certain mission that nearly caused your death, Satoru often stayed by your side as you recovered and this lead to the secret romance. It was unexpected from a guy like him, but his feelings are genuine. The two of you agreed to date in secret, wanting to keep a professional impression for the time being and acted like normal colleagues in public.

But when you two are alone, Satoru can't help but touch and kiss you everywhere. He always wants you on his lap, or at least feel your touch. He inquires about your day, how he misses you, how much he adores your scent and aura, how much he thought about fucking you. Satoru was never afraid to admit his feelings, which is what made you fall for him even more.

Each day before and after class, you'd go to his office, and pepper kisses on his face and suffocate him in hugs. Satoru enjoys receiving it all, and the reason why he enters the classroom all bubbly and with a wide smile, was because of you. Everyone just had the thought that he was normally that way due to his personality.

It was yet another normal day and the two schools, Tokyo and Kyoto Jujutsu Tech, planned a cookout at a private park. On this day, you wore a simple attire: white blouse, black skirt, black tights, and stilettos. For some reason, Satoru liked the outfit on you, though he hadn't fully admitted it yet. But the way he looks at you made you believe he enjoyed seeing you in it. So you wore it often.

The teachers and other adults were occupied with preparing the food, while the students were occupied with a challenging game of soccer. Even though you weren't directly there, you could feel the tension arising from the field.

You were preparing a fruit salad while slightly watching the first years bicker with the second years of Kyoto and then proceed with the game. You smiled when watching, after all these missions and cursed spirits lingering around, it was great to settle and take a nice break.

For a brief second, your eyes scan across the entire area. Your eyes finally detected Satoru, who was mainly directing the game. He was supposedly playing the role coach for Tokyo Tech. He was shouting enthusiastically, encouraging someone to do this, or that.

Beside of Satoru was Utahime, seemingly doing the same thing as he was but in a more relaxed yet serious manner. The students of Tokyo seemed to be winning the soccer match, mostly because of the second year student, Maki. Her twin sister on the other team didn't appear to be happy, but that didn't make them win a point.

Your attention returns to Satoru, who had his back facing you. Then you look down at the fruit salad, wondering if you should offer the first bite to him and inquire on the taste.

"L/NN!!" Two of the first years, Yuji and Nobara, shouts towards you from the field, capturing your attention and everyone else's. They were waving at you, as if competing to get your attention first. You shake your head and return the two a wave and smile.

Satoru had also turned around when the two called for you, seeing how you were diligently preparing the fruit salad and waving at them. He was going to approach you, leaving Utahime alone to deal with this soccer game when someone else had approached you.

"Your students must really like you, huh?" it was Utahime's teacher assistant. You hadn't met the dude before and this was his first time approaching you since this afternoon. Your attention was torn away from Satoru as your gaze met with Utahime's assistant's.

"Oh, well I'm not necessarily their teacher but I know they respect me enough like I am one," you reply with a smile, finishing the last stir of the fruit salad.

"I heard your fruit salad recipe was very good," he continues to speak, watching as you finish the dish. "Mind if I try a piece?"

You glance at him, pondering for a moment. You assumed it wouldn't hurt to do so. "Of course," you nod, grabbing a plastic fork and piercing it through a strawberry, kiwi and pineapple.

You hand the fork over to him, expecting him to take it. But instead, he leans forward, taking a bite of the three fruits into his mouth. Your eyes slightly widen at the unexpected action and he quickly pulls away before you can react further.

"Wow! It's delicious!" he chuckles, chewing on the fruits and tasting the different sweet, rich and savory flavors.

"Well.. I'm glad you like it.." you awkwardly reply, slightly smiling.

"Of course. I'll definitely come back for more!" he says and laughs while placing a hand on your shoulder. He gives it several pats, to your surprise.

But you hadn't realize that Satoru was observing it all— from the moment he approached you, to the moment he ate those fruits, and to the moment he placed a hand on you. The interaction irritated Satoru, and he was unable to return to the game with a bubbly manner.

His mood suddenly changed, but he didn't want to express it. He forced a smile, enthusiastic shouts and returned his focus to the soccer match. But he kept glancing back at you, seeing how Utahime's assistant was still causally around you.

But it wasn't like he could do anything. If he did, he'd cause an entire scene, and Utahime's assistant seemed rather nice, but his actions annoyed the hell out of Satoru. Why was he all up on you like that?

Satoru acknowledged the image of you not reacting or anything, and it made him feel irritated even more. Was she actually offering to feed those fruits to him? He got jealous and upset over the fact that the assistant was the first to try your fruit salad and not him.

He also noticed your outfit. How several buttons were loosened to reveal the chest area above your breast, how the skirt wrapped around your hips— shaping your ass and curves, how the tights were making the entire outfit appear more striking. And gosh, how he wanted to rip it all off of you.

Satoru pushes his sunglasses closer to his eyes, secretly rolling them beneath as he crosses his arms. Later, he'll decide what to do with you and that guy.

When the food was all prepared, the adults waited for the students to end their soccer game and gather around the picnic tables. Satoru stood behind of you, watching as you excitedly presented your fruit salad to everyone.

"Oh, Sa— Gojo!" you had turn around, surprised that he was standing there. You found this as an opportunity for him to try your fruit salad before giving it out to the rest. "Would you like to try my fruit salad first?"

Satoru gave it a brief thought as he glanced at you and then the bowl of the fruit salad. He gives you an unnatural smile before replying, "no thanks. I'll get it once everyone else does."

For some reason, his rejection shattered your heart but you nod, watching as he walks away shortly afterwards. You decide to ignore it, since it shouldn't affect you as much but the uncertain feeling in your body kept causing you to gaze back at him.

The remainder of the cookout, Satoru was deliberately avoiding making contact with you. And even if he spoke to you, it'd be short and simple. Of course, this sort of behavior wouldn't appear suspicious to others, but between the two of you, there was definitely some tension.

You wondered if you did anything that made him upset, but nothing was coming to mind. You knew for a fact that he was mostly focused on the game and you barely interacted with him. But you hadn't known about Satoru's observations from earlier, so you were left utterly confused.

The cookout finished with no further complications and the students decided to play one more match of soccer. Everyone was pumped after eating so much, and the first years were definitely determined on winning since the last match came to a draw.

You began searching for Satoru when you realized he wasn't around anymore. More confusion arose as you figured he'd want to participate and watch the entire thing. You tried not to worry too much, assuming he'd gone to the restroom or something.

Your attention about Satoru's whereabouts was shortly interrupted when Utahime's assistant approached you once again. "So, Y/n? After this— it's gonna be a while until I see you again."

"Huh? Oh, that's right," you nod your head, smiling politely as you've done before.

"We should definitely keep in contact some how— since you know, we both happen to be teacher assistants and we can share our stories with each other—" he begins to ramble, taking his phone out when a voice appears behind the two of you.

"L/n," it was Yuji, completely oblivious about the situation. "Gojo-sensei said for you to meet at his office, asap. Seems quite urgent. Man, you both are gonna miss the game!"

"O-Oh. Yes, of course. It's fine, Yuji, thank you though," you nod your head before dismissing yourself. "It was nice to meet you. I hope we can be good friends," you quickly utter to the other assistant before heading towards Satoru's office.

Maybe this was the chance to finally talk to him about earlier.

You anticipated on what could occur once you arrived, many scenarios raced through your mind as you kept walking. Whatever it was, you just wanted to know what you did and solve the problem with him.

When you approached the door to his office, you hesitated on opening it at first. But you were quick to push your feelings away and slid the door open, stepping inside and closing it behind. The room was dim, the only source of light was the sun peeking through the small opening of the closed curtains.

You immediately spotted Satoru resting on his chair, head leaned back, as if he was sleeping. A smile slowly appears on your face as you approach him quietly, guessing he was tired the entire time.

"Satoru?" you called out to him, gently tapping his shoulder. He didn't budge and remained asleep, to which made you frown. "Hey, you can't just call me in here and then fall asleep on me."

Satoru still didn't answer and you sigh, deciding to just return to the rest. "I'm going back then—“

As you were about to turn around, Satoru's hand quickly reached up to grab your wrist. The sudden action caught you by surprise, and Satoru pulls you down on his lap.

"S-Satoru?" you stammer, realizing that he had been awake and pretending to sleep.

"You know the reason why I called for you?" Satoru asks, finally opening his eyes. He then used his other arm to wrap around your hips, pulling you closer while keeping his other grip on your hand.

"Of course not.. that's why I'm here.." you smile awkwardly. "Is something the matter, 'toru? You've been avoiding me all day. Did I do something wrong?"

"Guess," Satoru answers vaguely, releasing his grip from your wrist and moving them down to your inner thigh. He starts caressing them, feeling the tights that hugged your skin.

"S-Satoru?!" you gasp, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. You start wondering what he was trying to imply, and returned to the moment with your interaction with Utahime's assistant. And you finally figured Satoru must've saw it.

"Acting all flirty in front of me, huh? Trying to get me jealous?"

"No! Of course not!" you pout, wrapping one arm around his neck. "Only have eyes for you.. I wasn't flirting with him, I promise. I only want your attention 'toru. Please."

Satoru wasn't going to let this slip past easily, and you knew that. When he was jealous, he was stubborn. And it took a while for him to forget this matter. Satoru huffs, lifting your body and changing your position to where you straddled his lap. "Why'd he get to be the first to try your fruit salad, baby?"

"You're upset over that?”

"He was also touching you. Being all over you. Fucking bastard," Satoru scoffs, placing both hands on your hips. "He was checking you out, getting hard because of this damn outfit you're wearing."

Satoru then lifts your skirt, pushing it above your hips to reveal your laced panties under the tights. You knew where this was going, but you didn't stop it at all. "You purposely wore this, didn't you?" Satoru inquires.

"Wore it for you.. only you, no one else," you reply, feeling your legs already tremble as Satoru presses your hips down against his crotch. You could feel his throbbing erection, poking your panties that were now soaking.

"I don't like it. Might as well take it off," Satoru says, moving his hands along the curves of your body and up to your chest. He starts unbuttoning your shirt, pushing the material apart to where your breasts popped out.

Satoru pushes your bra up, exposing your nipples. He grins, using both of his hands to pinch and grope your boobs. You moan, body twitching at the sensation. "A-Ah.. Satoru-"

"Move your hips," Satoru orders and you immediately obey, rocking your hips and grinding against his hard cock that could no longer withstand the suffocation of his pants.

Satoru continues to pinch your nipples, getting more soft moans to escape your mouth. Your hands rest against his shoulder as you continue grinding your clothed pussy against him. Your arousal soaked through your underwear and tights, and eventually stained Satoru's pants.

"P-Please.. I'm sorry-" you beg before a higher moan follows after when Satoru latches his mouth on one of your boobs.

Satoru starts sucking your nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, and gently biting down on it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, nails digging through his shirt as your moans squeaked louder. His other hand fondling and pinching your other nipple.

Despite all of this, Satoru was always able to tease your breast in a way that'd make you squirm. He switches between your two breast, making sure to pleasure each nipple, before leaving bite marks. He sucks on the skin of your breast next, leaving hickeys on several areas before returning his mouth to your nipple.

Satoru removes his mouth from your nipple, creating a pop sound before leaning back against his chair. He smiles, observing your reactions. "Hold your breasts," he orders again as his hands trail to your hips.

You end up following his order, cupping both breasts in your hands as Satoru rips your tights open, giving your soaked panties a brief observation. He smirks, seeing how your arousal was already slicking down your inner thighs.

"Would you look at that," Satoru murmurs, pressing his middle and index finger against the soaked area of your panties. He rubs circles on your clit before pushing the material to the side, feeling your arousal drip on his fingers.

It was enough to the point Satoru finally unzips his pants and slip his dick out. He uses one hand to lift your thigh up, making you crouch on your feet, and the other to pump his throbbing cock.

"F-Fuck.. Satoru- need your cock in me."

"You gotta be patient, baby," Satoru replies, grunting softly as he aligns his cock to your entrance. His cock twitches at the sensation of how wet you were and he pushes his tip in, already feeling your pussy pulsating.

You both let out a moan as Satoru sinks his cock deeper into your cunt, stretching you out until his entire length was in. "Shit. Ride me, baby," Satoru requests, his hands returning to grip your hips.

With no hesitation, you comply and start moving up and down, bouncing on his cock in a steady pace. You're moaning louder while your hands are still cupping and fondling your breasts.

"That assistant must be thinking about doing this with you too, don't you think?" Satoru inquires, holding back his hoarse grunts as he felt your walls clench around him as you moved up. "But I do it better, don't I? I touch you better 'nd make you feel better?"

"Y-Yes 'toru! Only you can make me feel this good!"

"That's right," Satoru's smile becomes wider as he gropes the fat of your ass with his hands.

Satoru begins assisting you by pushing your hips down faster, his balls smacking your ass as the sound of skin slapping and moans permeate the room. He watches at how your breasts bounce each thrust, even when you're holding it, but seeing your face was the best of it all.

"D-Damn.. squeezing me so good, baby," Satoru grunts, thrusting his hips upward slightly.

"Fuck- cumming soon," you throw your head back, feeling his cock rub against your g-spot every thrust. You were so close and began bouncing faster in order to reach your climax quicker.

But Satoru doesn't allow that to happen. He knew you were close, and when you were about to cum, he immediately stops your movements. Your eyes wide in shock, completely aggravated with how he stopped and didn't allow you to cum.

"Satoru, you—"

He was quick to shush you by pressing his mouth against yours, to which you return. The kiss turns sloppy, as your tongue presses against one another's, fighting for dominance. Your hands release the grasp of your breasts to wrap around Satoru's neck, pulling his body closer to yours. Satoru then lifts you from the chair, pinning you down on his desk, knocking off several of the small decorations sitting there.

Satoru pulls away, spreading your legs apart before pushing your thighs closer to your chest. "You're gonna cum when I tell you to, got it?" he says, not accepting any objections before slamming his cock right back into your dripping cunt.

"S-Shit!" your hand tries to reach for something to grab, but your mind is foggy and you swore you were already seeing stars. You were still close, on the brink of cumming all over him and you almost came without notice.

Satoru starts thrusting his cock fast and deep into your pussy, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as his hips slam into your ass. Your noises fall of your tongue each thrust, knowing you'd probably lose your voice later.

"Goodness, baby. Taking my cock so good, like you always do."

Satoru throws both of your legs over his shoulder, firmly holding your legs as they begin trembling. Tears have welled the socket of your eyes and they eventually start rolling back as Satoru maintained the position and thrusts.

"I-I can't, Satoru- gonna cum!" you couldn't hold your orgasm anymore, and even before Satoru could reply, you cum on him and his desk.

Satoru doesn't say anything besides scoff, and even when you came, he kept fucking you relentlessly. It was driving you insane, the feeling of him still thrusting into you after cumming.

He switches the position again, this time he wraps your legs around his waist before lifting you up with his hands cupping under your thighs. You snake your arms around his neck for a better grip, head dropping against his shoulder as he pistons his cock up into you.

He'd then push you back down on the desk, making your body turn to the side and lifting one leg over his shoulder, before thrusting back into you. Afterwards, he'd flip you on your stomach and pound you from the back, leading to your second orgasm.

Satoru would make you touch yourself, scream his name and tears stream down your face. He'd make you reach multiple orgasms until you couldn't anymore. Your throat began to hurt from all of the moaning and screaming, but that didn't mean Satoru stopped.

He lifts you up again, walking with you over to the window. You're unable to comprehend what he was doing by that moment before he slides the curtains open. His office view directly overlooked the field, where everyone still currently were.

"W-Wait, Satoru they're gonna see-" you panic slightly, feeling your feet come in contact with the ground as Satoru makes you face the window and everyone participating the ongoing soccer match.

"Let them see, and watch how many times I've made you cum," Satoru says, raising his hands to grip your biceps before filling your swollen pussy with his cock again.

Satoru pumps his cock in and out of you, the angle allowing him to hit your spots deeper and better. The sensation was too much for you to handle, but it was making you to the point where you're begging for more.

You could see everyone else enjoying their time in the soccer field, and your eyes detect Utahime's assistant by the side. His back was turned against you, so you didn't see his face but he seemed to be enjoying his time since he was cheering and clapping his hands.

If he'd turn around and look up, he would immediately be able to see you and Satoru.

"'toru— I'm gonna cum again!" you sob, feeling the tip of his cock kiss your womb. Your legs became wobbly, but Satoru held you up with his firm grip.

"S-Shit.. me too, darling." Satoru's thrust were becoming erratic as he neared his climax, groaning and throwing his head back slightly. "Gonna cum in you, baby. You okay with that?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" you chant, turning your head around to meet his gaze.

Satoru grits his teeth, thrusting his hips closer several times before pushing his cock all the way in, pumping his cum into your womb. You came at the same time, and you both share a final moan before your back fell against Satoru's chest.

You're both gasping for air heavily, body soaked in sweat while the room smelled like sex. You both remain there for a moment before Satoru kisses your cheek and trails his lips down your neck.

"Looks like we won the game," Satoru says when he glances out of the window, seeing the first years and second years of Tokyo Tech cheer in victory. You also look out of the window, watching as they all celebrated.

"I wasn't mad at you, by the way," Satoru adds, returning his head to your side before kissing your face again. "You're not upset at me either, baby?"

"No.." you shake your head, facing him before pressing a kiss on his lips.

Satoru slips his cock out, watching as his cum mixed with yours drip out of your pussy. He chuckles softly and smirks. "Good. Let's clean you up before we go back."

LOAF4U. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

#loaf4u #18+ minors dni #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk gojo #satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen one shot #gojo oneshot #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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pedge-page · 3 months

Note

Can we pls get more lactation kink !! No one writes them like you

Ask and you shall receive! I guess I'll just take the title of "Lactation kink" Queen 👑

Joel Miller x F!reader

Warnings: breastfeeding, Lactation kink, dry humping, frottage, first rough dom!joel then lil bit soft sub!Joel, premature ejaculation, little breeding kink at end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel all but manhandled you across the living room. You can't even get out a greeting before he was groping you and slamming the door behind him shut. He throws you down on the couch, fingers digging into the cups of your tank top before roughly yanking down, tearing the fabric in two.

"Jesus, Joel!" You gasp. You go to cover yourself and your nude bra, but his claws throw your arms back to your sides with bruising strength as he gets to his knees. His torso is positioned between your legs, caging you to the couch.

You feel the rumbles in his chest against your belly when he growls at the sight of your overly swollen breasts practically begging to be set free from your bra clasp. He pulls the wire frame down too, exposing your nipples as the fat of your tit droops over.

"Mine," he he snarls hungrily through clenched teeth.

His arms snake under your armpits, forearms flat against your back with his palms splayed over your shoulder blades, bringing you close to him until his warm mouth latches on to your sensitive nipple.

You gasp, immediately going to craddle his head.

He gets like this sometimes. Usually after watching you breastfeed your baby, or when he's had a rough day at work and all he can think about is escaping in your supple mounds.

Today is the latter.

He sucks around your pebble, tongue swirling to perk it up before the milk starts to flow into his wanting throat. You both groan together. Pressed so tightly against him, feeling all the aggression slowly dissipate from his body at the taste of your sweet milk.

He feels safe. He feels at home.

"That's it," you coo, fingers sifting through his locks as he closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose between each massive gulp. "Take your time. 'S all yours."

He usually starts with quick swallows before just letting your creamy liquid pool in his mouth for a bit then gulping a large load at a time. Little satisfied hums escape his throat with each encouragement of his appetite. You would never deny him this, not that you think you could actively try with the grip he has. His callused hands slowly caressing along your back, rubbing you soothingly as he gets lost in your warm embrace.

He pulls away finally, stuttering a pant as a trickle of milk seeps from the corner of his mouth. You see the lust in his dreamy lidded eyes, his tongue darting along his lower pouty lip to capture any remaining taste.

"Better?" You ask gently. He rolls his head into your petting of his hair.

He just grunts. One hand grasps the bridge of your bra before he's tearing it from your body with inhuman strength and throwing it carelessly behind him, fully letting your plump girlies free.

He smirks at the sight, the heft of your bosom still bouncing. His tongue falls from his mouth, curling up to scoop your other sore tit into his mouth, teeth latching on the fattened part just gently enough to hold suction before he's suckling more milk again.

You both close your eyes and find calm.

Until the gentle rocking of Joels hips into the couch leg stirs you.

He pulls away and nuzzles his forehead in the valley of your mounds, glancing down at the weeping stain of precum forming at the tent in his pants. He can smell your pussy from here, palm tracing along your inner thigh before his fingers part your panties and glide along your slick arousal.

You hope maybe hes going to take care of you, press his nose against your little beating swollen nub, but instead he withdraws and smears his sticky fingers over your tits, across your nipples, admirning the shine of your slick before licking the salty-sweet mixed taste of your pussy and milk from your soft skin.

Joel's arms hook under your ass and pulls you down to the floor with him, stradding his thighs with his cock pressed between your bellies.

You unzip his jeans and pull his hardened length out, tugging along the red tip with full strokes. "Ah-ahh-ahh baby," he whines, eyes closed as you pump him. "You feel--so good touchin' me."

He spits downward so his saliva falls to his tip, your hand immediately working the new lubricant down over his base then back up again.

His arms wrap around your waist once more, pulling you flush against him with his haggert breaths fanning on your chest. He sucks a few deep breaths before putting your pebbled nipple back in his mouth, grinding you against his body so he mushroom tip rubs right under your lower boobs.

You hump him, desperate to relieve the ache between your legs, but careful to not let your tits slip out of his mouth. With the secure grip he has on you, it doesn't seem likely anyway. You can feel his precum wetting your tummy and his shirt, moaning at the thick protrusion between you, twitching along your stomach, right where it would normally split you open and nestle deep inside where no other man had bred you before.

You want it inside. Want it filling you again and again. Spilling his seed safely into your waiting womb once more and giving new life.

"Daddy," you hum.

You feel his breath getting faster, k-9s sinking further as he ruts his hips along yours. "I want you to make me a mommy again."

His nails dig into your flesh, voraciously sucking reverently again, pulling you close, close, closer with desire to meld you into him and never leave. Mine, mine, mine, he chants in his mind: more more more.

I want you to put another baby in me".

His body seizes beneath you, and he can't stop his pathetic ragged painful moans, pulling away with milk spilling from his lips, eyes scrunched closed as his cock pulses thick ropes of his seed until its between your bodies and leaving a thick creamy sticky hot mess gluing you together.

You stare down at him as he gasps heavily.

"You're supposed to do that inside me."

But he's still so fucking GONE, coming down from the high of the intensity of his orgasm, of your milk still lingering in his taste buds. He just pants through his sinful lips, looking at you all drunk with no comprehension behind his wide blown eyes, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words.

- - - -

Permanent taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96

#pedro pascal smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #last of us smut #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #breastfeeding #lactating kink

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caesium-55 · 1 month

Text

—seven days. [ vi.i ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore

author's note: i dunno if this is good cuz i have to delete a lot of scenes to make everything fit djsjjj. AND pls listen to two weeks notice by leanna firestone. 🐝 anon shared it to me and AAAAAAAHHH it captures the main vibe of the fic

masterlist.

"New shoes?”

The shoes come in black and it features a sleek silhouette with a pointed toe and a golden heel that is shaped as the letters Y, S, and L. Max is no expert in shoes but he knows how to recognize a luxury shoe if he sees one.

“Pretty lil things, aren't they?” you bring your foot forward to flaunt it.

Max doesn't know if it’s the heels that makes your feet look pretty or if the heels look pretty because you have pretty feet. Contrary to popular belief, Max does not have a feet kink. He just knows how to appreciate the aesthetics of a body part.

“Three years of savin’ and I finally got ‘em.”

“Good for you?” Is that an appropriate thing to say to a woman who just bought nice-looking shoes?

Max sees Daniel hug you after the Azerbaijan GP. You have twinning smiles on your face. Max's curiosity grows. You pull away from the hug and wave goodbye, returning to the garage, to where Max is standing and waiting for you.

“What did you and Daniel talk about?” he asks and if he sounds like he’s demanding, he doesn't mean it.

You stop walking, finally noticing Max's presence. The smile on your face fades a little but it doesn't completely disappear. “Oh, hi? Congrats on the podium today, big guy.”

“What were you and Daniel talking about?” Max asks again.

“‘s not important.”

“I want to know.”

You give Max an odd look, probably questioning why he wants to know so badly. He doesn't know why either. He just wants to know.

“Renault has an open spot in their engineering team,” you finally say, smile growing wide. You’re literally vibrating in excitement as you say it.

Max feels like someone just poured a bucket of iced water over his body.

“Engineer? Why would you even apply in Renault’s engineering team?” he sees your face shift and he wonders if his question is offensive. It does not seem like it is. For Max anyway.

“I’m an engineer, Max,” you're gritting your teeth, Max notices.

Oh, Max realizes. This was why Christian mentioned moving her to the engineering team. He thought you’re going to be their manager or something. Do engineers get managers, too? Max doesn't know.

Max’s world shifts off its axis when he realizes the bigger meaning carried by your words. You want to leave.

“No.”

You make a weird face, “No?”

“No, stay.”

He is perfectly aware that he is in no position to ask this of you. If you want to be an engineer and chase your dreams, you can. No one has the right to stop you. That's your dream. That's your life.

But do you really need to leave?

Suddenly, this becomes like the Daniel situation all over again.

Max isn't sure the exact time you begin holding this much importance over his life that he’s suddenly afraid of your absence. Max still won't consider the two of you friends per se, but he does not want you in Renault. He wants you here, behind him, following him at all times. You don't have to follow Daniel to fucking Renault.

Renault just keeps taking everything from him. First, it’s Daniel, his best friend and teammate. Max will not allow himself to lose you over to Renault and their sucky cars.

“Funny how you think you got a say in this,” you do the thing where you shift your feet lightly so you’re facing Max fully, one hand on your waist while the other rests limp on your side, your head slightly tilts to the right. There's a bulge on your cheek, where your tongue is pressing inside it, and one of your brows is cocked.

“You don't have to go to Renault. You can stay here,” he adds and it almost sounds like he’s pleading.

“And what Max? Let all the money I spent in engineering school go to waste?”

“Do you not want to be my manager anymore?”

“No offense, buddy, but I’ll choose being an engineer.”

Fair point but Max is still hurt anyway. Why are people always leaving him? Is it that hard to choose him and love him? Is he not a good enough reason to stay? Maybe it's because he's not a world champion yet. Maybe it's because he's not someone praiseworthy yet.

“I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I’ll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.”

Max hopes you believe him.

The 2019 season ends with Lewis Hamilton at the top. Valtteri Bottas is close behind him. After Bottas stands Max Verstappen.

He’ll understand if you're making your application letter to Renault at this very moment. And yet, you come knocking on his hotel door.

“You’re trashin’ the room again,” you say, not ask but say, when Max opens the door and this is like 2018 again when he trashed his entire hotel room for coming in fourth. You even wear the same clothes as last year—a Red Bull polo shirt and a black pencil skirt with the same cream tote bag with peach prints but the shoes are different. “Sour loser much?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too,” you reply in a nonchalant tone, not even taking offense that Max has cursed you out. “Lemme see your hands. I have a cold canned beer.”

“I didn't punch the wall.”

Not yet at least. He’s definitely planning to, before you have decided to knock on his door.

“Well then,” you thrust the beer towards him. “Good thing’s beer has multiple purposes. Bruised knuckles? Beer. Bruised ego? Beer.”

Angrily, Max takes the beer in your hands. He really can't deal with you right now.

“Don't worry, man. You’ll be world champion one day. You have the makings of one,” you assure him and your words are too unexpected that Max stiffens. “Not this year but one day.”

“Why can't it be this year?” he asks after a few seconds' pause.

You shrug your shoulders, “Not your time yet, I suppose.”

Then, you turn around and walk away, the loud clicks of your black and gold heels echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer in his hand.

He’s trying (emphasis on the word trying) to prepare himself snacks so he can eat while sim-racing. It's the off-season right now and his mother and his sister have decided to visit his place in Monaco and stay for a few days before they fly together to Belgium and spend the holidays there. Daniel’s name appears on the notification bar of Max’s phone.

daniel: is [name] in monaco rn or did she go home for the off season

max: why would she be in monaco right now

daniel: she lives there

max: [name] lives in monaco?

daniel: you didn't know??

daniel: she’s been living there since last year

daniel: ever wondered why she comes by our building a lot?

max: how am i supposed to know

daniel: she's your manager

max: well we don't exactly talk about where we live

daniel: i cant believe you

daniel: shes been living there since she was my manager

max: that long???

daniel: i cant with you sometimes

daniel: neways do u have her number?

daniel: i think she got it changed a month ago and i forgot to ask her

daniel: she's not answering my messages in ig

max: yeah yeah i do

daniel: great

daniel: can u call her and ask if she’s in the country?

max: ok

daniel: cool cool

daniel: appreciate it,, man

You answer the phone on the second ring.

“Need anythin’, man?”

When will he hear you call him Max rather than man, dude, bro, big guy, big boy, darlin’ (teasingly), or loser?

“Hi [Name]. I’m calling because, uh, Daniel messaged me,” he begins. “He said you’re not replying to his messages on Instagram.”

“Oh, my bad, my bad. I’ll check it out later, still out playin’ ball right now.”

“He’s asking if you're in Monaco right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I am. Flight’s still next week. Why’s he askin’?”

“Okay,” he doesn't know what else is there to say. “I didn't even know you live in Monaco.”

“Well, I do,” he hears someone yelling your name. “Aight, anythin’ else you wanna know?”

“Nothing. Nothing else.”

“Okay. Stay safe out there, my guy.”

“You, too.”

The call ends and suddenly, the world feels too silent.

max: yeah she's here

max: she said her flight is scheduled next week

daniel: perfect

daniel: i have her christmas gift with me rn she better be there when i land

daniel: i have to wrap this up on the plane

daniel: do you know how hard it is to gift wrap smth during a flight

Max’s brows furrow. Perhaps he has underestimated the depth of their friendship. They're close enough that they give each other gifts. Or at least, she’s close with Daniel enough that he buys her gifts.

max: safe travels daniel

Daniel arrives a day later, which coincidentally is the same day Sophie, Max’s mother, and Victoria, his sister, landed in Monaco as well. Max’s mother adores Daniel, which is not surprising because everyone adores Daniel.

“Join us for lunch, Daniel,” Sophie invites him. Max and Victoria stand behind her. The three of them are heading out for lunch when they come across Daniel, who is also heading out, at the lobby of the apartment building.

“Sorry, Sophie, but I have an appointment today with [Name],” Daniel scratches his nape and smiles apologetically. Sophie perks up at the mention of [Name].

“Max’s manager?”

“Yes, Max’s manager,” Daniel nods enthusiastically.

“Invite her, too! I’ve always wanted to meet her. She sounds like an amazing girl from what Max has told me.”

Max groans, “Mom, please.”

He may or may not have talked about [Name] during his calls with his mother. Mostly, it's complaints. His mother has laughed at him, used to hee son's constant complaining. Despite that, she still thinks [Name] is good for her son. It's good that someone is able to rein you in when needed, she said.

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll love it. How about I call her and we’ll meet you at the restaurant in a few?” Daniel says.

Everything is settled. Max has reserved a private room for the whole lunch meeting so he can enjoy the privacy of lunch with his family. Less than an hour later, you arrive with Daniel.

Max almost drops the fork when he sees you walking towards them, just a few steps behind the grinning Daniel.

You look different than usual. Max is yet to decide if it's a good type of different or not, because when his eyes land on you, he feels like a thousand elephants have begun a violent rampage in his chest.

You’re not wearing the usual Red Bull polo shirt—perhaps that's why Max feels odd because he’s so used to seeing you wearing it—and instead, you were in a bustier jumpsuit with a white long-sleeved button-up shirt under it.

It looks a little too tight in Max’s opinion, hugging your body in a way that Max thinks you cannot breathe. He can't even breathe when he looks at you right now.

Daniel and you stop in front of the table and Max’s mother stands to kiss you both on the cheek. Max then notices that you’re carrying two bouquets in your hand. Funny how they're so huge and colorful but for some reason, he hasn't noticed them since you walked into the room.

“For you, Ma’am,” you smile as you hand the bouquet to Max’s mother, who gasps in delight. “Welcome to Monaco.”

Then, you turn to Victoria and hand her the other bouquet, “For you, too, Miss Victoria. Welcome to Monaco.”

“Please, have a seat, you two. We’ve already ordered for you," Max's mother says. You and Daniel sit down.

You and Daniel quickly engage in conversation with Max’s mother. Victoria elbows Max, leaning over his ear to whisper, “You have a good manager, Max.”

“You just like her because she got you flowers," Max whispers back.

Victoria chuckles and the Verstappen siblings join in the conversation.

Lunch is a pleasant event. Everyone loves the food. Everyone laughs. Everyone is having a good time. However, good things always come to an end. Daniel has to leave early because he has an appointment. Max is supposed to drive Victoria and his mother to the department store because they planned on shopping together as a family and buy gifts for their relatives in Belgium. But since Daniel left and he was your ride going to the restaurant, that means you have no ride going home.

You insist that you can hail a cab or even walk to your apartment since it’s “just three streets away” but Max notices that your smile looks too forced and Max calls bullshit. Max may not know where you live but he knows you're lying. Thankfully, his mother seems to share the same sentiments and push you towards Max.

“Don't worry, honey. He’s a good driver. You're in safe hands.”

“I’m really fine, Ma’am,” you try again.

“Call me Sophie,” she says, her hand comes up to your shoulder and you flinch a little. “You take good care of Max. It's the least he can do for you. Also, I’m a woman, honey. I know the pain of walking a good distance in heels. Don't subject yourself to that pain.”

You don't protest any further and the four of you hop into Max’s car. Max drives Sophie and Victoria to a department store and drops them off. He kisses his mother’s cheek as they bid a temporary goodbye. Afterwards, he instructs you to type down your address on the GPS so he can drive you to where you live.

When he reads the address you input, he snorts. You whip your head around to give him a dirty look.

“Three streets down,” he says, amused. “Really?”

“Shut up, ‘s just on the other side of the city.”

“It's still far.”

The first few minutes of the drive is silent. You sit on the passenger seat with your earbuds in and legs crossed, leaning most of your weight against the car door so your back posture sort of resembles a person with mild scoliosis. Max hears you hum along the song you’re listening to, your fingers tapping along the rhythm.

Max taps your shoulder. You turn to him, pulling off one of your earbuds.

“Somethin’ wrong?” you ask.

Why do you always assume something's wrong when he calls your attention? Does he really only talk to you when he has a problem?

Max gestures to the AUX, “You can connect your phone to my car.”

You gasp dramatically, a hand pressing on your chest, “You’re givin’ me AUX privilege? Truly honored.”

Max rolls his eyes.

“But I don't think you’ll like what I listen to,” you add.

“Try me.”

El Alfa songs have electrifying and infectious rhythms and Max may not understand the lyrics but not understanding the song lyrics can't stop a person from enjoying a song. El Alfa songs are the type of songs that you’ll hear in parties and in the streets.

“By the way,” Max begins. The song changes into something else—Sofia, the title reads, sung by Alvaro Soler. It's a whole different vibe from the previous song. “Thank you for giving my mum and sister flowers today. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“Just trynna be nice,” you say nonchalantly. “Glad they liked it.”

“Also, you look nice today.”

You slowly turn to him. You have this weird expression on your face like you have an aneurysm but also indigestion and mild stroke.

“Did you eat somethin’ weird at the restaurant?”

“No, I didn't.”

“Then why are you playin’ nice?��

Max rolls his eyes, “I can punch you if you want.”

“Yeah, right, as if you can. Your mother raised you too well to throw hands to the ladies.”

Max closes his mouth.

“See? I’m right,” you continue. “You’ll fight any man on the grid but you won't fight me even though I annoy you every day. You're not like your father, Max.”

Max clears his throat awkwardly. He does not know how to respond to you. You're too… too… honest.

“But thank you,” you say. “Borrowed this from my roomie ‘cuz I don't own any nice clothes.”

You wear branded clothing way too well for someone to think otherwise.

The song switches. Danza Kuduro starts playing. Max knows this one. He watched Fast Five.

Max stops the car outside the apartment building, but instead of hopping off, you rummage through your tote bag—still the cream-colored one with peach prints, it looks so worn down now—and pull out a….it looks like a beaded bracelet but it's not closed on the ends.

“What's this?” he asks when you hand it to him. Red and navy blue beads—the color of Red Bull.

“Consider this as my gift for the holidays. I made Daniel one so it makes sense that I give you one as well.”

Oh. Max blinks at you then glances down at the little thing in his palm. Something warm blooms in Max’s heart.

“That's very thoughtful of you.”

Panic follows. His head snaps up.

“But I haven't bought you anything.”

“That's okay, man,” you smile and open the door. “Thanks a lot for today.”

You step outside and close the door after you before Max can even utter another word. Max watches as you jog inside the building. He shakes his head when you disappear from his vision, hangs the beaded keychain with his keys, and drives back to where he drops his mother and sister off earlier.

Sophie notices the keychain and compliments it. She asks his son if he got into the hobby of creating things out of beads. Max shakes his head and tells her that the keychain is a gift from you.

His mother visibly lights up, “You should get her a gift!”

Max gets into thinking. Yeah, he should.

He meets you a day before your flight to Texas in the lobby of the building where you live. You gave him a keychain. It's only appropriate that he gives you keys. (You don't seem very happy with the gift though for God knows what reason but Max is adamant on giving it to you and will not stop at a no.

“I want you close,” he says, surprised by the sincerity that exited his mouth.

“Well, I don't.” Your words sting a little. Max ignores it.

He ends up giving you a different key. You say the other key is too expensive. Max is not thrilled but it's still a key and this certain key, you accept. So Max is happy.)

Max flies to Belgium a few days after you and celebrates the holidays with his mother's side of the family. He calls your cell in the middle of the night, Belgium is six hours ahead of Texas so Max is sure it's around four in the afternoon from where you are. He does not expect you to answer as quickly as you did.

“Somethin’ wrong?” your voice sounds rough like you’ve been asleep.

“Hi, uhm,” Max clears his throat. He’s a little tipsy right now and his words are flying around in his brain. “Happy holidays.”

There's a pause.

“You called me for that?”

“Can you stop being mean? It's the holidays.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Kinda?”

“Well then,” Max hears a ruffle of sheets and suddenly, he feels bad for waking you up. “Happy holidays to you, too, bud. Appreciate the effort and the money you spent on making this call. International calls are expensive as fuck.”

They're not. At least, Max thinks they're not.

“Can I get your Instagram? The one you use to talk to Daniel?”

“My priv? Why?”

“Because I just want it.”

“Brat. You can’t follow that account usin’ your public account. PR has access to your account and they’ll see my shit. I don't want them to see my shit.”

“Then, I’ll make a private account and we’ll follow each other.”

He hears you sigh.

“You promise not to give PR access to that account?”

“Hm. I promise.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Send me the details and I’ll follow you when I wake up, aight?”

Max giggles, “Okay.”

“Anythin’ else?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Aight, I’ll continue my nap. You enjoy yourself there.”

“Okay.”

Then, COVID happens.

#mv33 x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #manager!reader #mv33 #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33 x you

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strangeobsessed · 5 months

Text

Bada Lee Fic Recommendations

*photos are edited by me, pls dont steal!! thank you

note: most of the fics will contain angst, fluff, suggestive/smut, toxic relationship ish? i'll possibly continue to update this list and make a one-shot ver if i don't get lazy. enjoyyy!! btw adding a writers work here basically means i recommend their whole acc!

last updated: 22 dec 2023

SERIES / ONE-SHOTS

Mortal Gods - Bada Lee x OC Team Fem!Reader synopsis: Imagine a ninth team becoming part of the dynamic Street Woman Fighter 2 cast. These remarkable dancers don't only showcase their incredible moves; they possess an enchanting charm that sweeps not just the audience but also the hearts of their fellow competitors. ↳ by @ssivinee

All American Bitch - Bada Lee x Fem!Reader synopsis: Bada's strong opinion of you spreads like wildfire, which turns into nothing but disaster. Neither of you feel sympathy for the other. After all, there are only 3 rules in Street Woman Fighter: no limit, no respect, and no mercy. ↳ by @perfectsunlight

Moth to a Flame - Bada Lee x Fem!Reader synopsis: Y/n L/n is the youngest team member of Jam Republic, competing in the second season of Street Woman Fighter. She’s got the sweetest smile and the most vibrant personality, but she also may or may not be the biggest hothead on the show when it comes to defending her teammates. Apparently that’s attractive to Bada Lee. ↳ by @wrosie-writes

Let's Dance - Bada Lee x Jam Rebublic!Reader x Wolf'lo!Chocol synopsis: A professional ballet dancer in Street Woman Fighter Season 2? (Y/N) Bae, a 23-year-old ballerina and dance prodigy enters the fighting arena alongside the infamously known crew, Jam Republic. Making the team's aura and presence far more intimidating despite being clad in soft pink and white clothing, adorned with astonished faces and friendly smiles. As the young woman entered the arena with curious eyes and small smile, the other teams couldn't help but awe at her beauty and elegant aura, unknowingly capturing the eyes of two charismatic dancers. ↳ by @diana-rose-25

Lost Cause - Bada Lee x Reader x BEBE!Lusher synopsis: In which, you can't help but hate being Bada's best friend, even though you love her more than anything. ↳ by @bountycancelled

A Princess' Will - Bada Lee x Princess!Reader synopsis: After an assassination attempt, the queen invites the very best fighters from across the land to compete for the great honor of protecting you, the princess. ↳ by @lovystar

Stolen Hoodie (SMAU) - Bada Lee x OC!Reader (Shin Nari) synopsis: In which a love story begins with a stolen hoodie. ↳ by @badasgirlfriend

No Feelings Attached To The Limit (Part 2) - Bada Lee x Dancer!Reader synopsis: The relationship between bada and y/n had always been flirty. But what if one of them wanted something more? ↳ by @nimxie

The guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all - Bada Lee x Fem!Reader synopsis: As you attend one of Kai's shows, your gaze remains glued to a particular background dancer. Fueled by adrenaline, you gather the courage to approach him after the performance, handing over your number. But what can happen when Y/N realise that the guy she was interested in wasn’t a guy at all? ↳ by @westwoodsvivi

Mafia AU - Mafia!Bada Lee x Fem!Reader synopsis: Your arranged marriage to older!cold!mafia boss!Bada Lee unfolds, revealing that there's more than just ice behind her cold heart. ↳ by @allur1ngs

Losing Touch Untouched (Part 2) - Gang Member!Bada Lee x Reader synopsis: Picking up your girlfriend from the police station does not seem like a good date idea for you. Especially if she refuses to talk about the very things that got her in trouble with the police. ↳ by @beetlejuicyy

The Duplicate Part 2 - Bada Lee x 1 Million Member!Reader synopsis: - ↳ by @throughthebluesea

Speak Now - Bada Lee x Actress!Reader synopsis: You and Bada have been best friends since you transferred to her school during 8th grade. Both are harboring feelings for each other but chose to remain as friends just in case being in a relationship doesn't work out between you. You made a pact to be each other's date during holidays and occasions that carried on to adulthood. You had to go away but Bada's feelings for you remained. She wanted to ask you out when you come back but when you did, she found out you're already engaged to someone else. Will this be a tragic love story or will she finally gather up courage to be with you after all these years? ↳ by @mikachacha

Secret Love Song Part 2 - Bada Lee x BEBE!Reader synopsis: Being in a secret relationship is not easy, especially if you are hiding it to the whole world. — or — the heavy weight of the strained relationship you have with Bada has just become too overwhelming. ↳ by @mikaleialt

Ignited Fire - Bada Lee x Fem!Reader synopsis: Y/n S/n, an Architecture student and Bada Lee, a Performing Arts student shares an apartment at their university. They are doing great until Bada started bringing different girls at night forbidding Y/n to focus on her studies. Things went south when Bada stated her adoration towards Y/n. It all went downhill when one night ruined Y/n’s heart. ↳ by @bleu-seas

Full Moon Part 2 - Succubus!Bada Lee x Fem!Reader synopsis: - ↳ by @sun-nyy

Admire. - Bada Lee x Jam Republic OC!Reader (Lea Chang) synopsis: In which Bada unexpectedly gets to see and battle her long-time idol and crush on a survival show she was in, Street Woman Fighter. ↳ by @yxine

Homewrecker - Bada Lee x Reader synopsis: Bada is lonely, you fix that. ↳ by @sydnerss

#bada lee x reader #bada lee #bada lee choreography #bada x reader #bada x oc #bada lee x y/n #street woman fighter x reader #street woman fighter 2 #bebe #bebe x reader #team bebe #fic recomendations #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bada lee swf2 #lee bada #bada lee x oc #street woman fighter #fic recommendation

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

ok pls i need you tp write this bc i can’t - reader gets into a fight with an unsub and ends up with a nosebleed she doesn’t notice afterward, and hotch tenderly holds her face and wipes it away

if you're interested in hotch holding reader's face to wipe away her nosebleed i'd recommend this lovely story from the equally lovely @luveline, several lines of which i think about daily ("Oh, honey." 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗)

You can only breathe easy once the doors to the cop car shut, and the unsub is driven away. He's out of sight and out of mind, and your shoulders sag with the weight of the worries sliding off of them. You're exhausted, and hearing Hotch's voice directing your team members is a welcome sound to your ears that have been ringing with sirens for far too long.

"Dave, you make sure Morgan gets checked out by the EMTs. He is not okay, no matter what he tells you."

"Will do," Rossi nods, wandering over to where Morgan is rubbing at his sore shoulder. Bashing through doors hurts, and you know he's probably feeling a deep ache in his muscles.

"Prentiss, you and JJ head back to the precinct and start filling out your paperwork, Reid can help once you fill him in. And Y/L/N," Hotch turns to you finally, addressing you as the last of the group. But he loses steam, falling silent when he sees you.

You don't know why, and it makes you tense. You're sure you look a sight, sweat-slicked hair and chest heaving from running to capture the unsub, but he's never been one to judge appearances.

After a quick moment of silence, one that seems like he's waiting for the answer to a question he hasn't asked, he speaks: "Come here."

You pause for a moment, but once you register his odd words, the last thing you'd have expected him to say, you race off on unstable footing. You linger a few feet away from him, brows raised cautiously.

"Yes, sir?"

"No come- here." He mumbles, closing the gap between you two so that the toes of his shoes almost bump your own. Your stomach tenses, and he digs into the inside pocket of his windbreaker to retrieve a packet of tissues.

"Sir-?" You ask, but before you can complete any further question, his hand lifts to cradle your jaw. Your chin rests on the side of his pointer finger as he angles your face upwards, towards the light of the moon that you're bathed in.

"Sir," You repeat, breathless this time. He smooths his hand up the side of your jaw, cupping your cheek as he takes a tissue and raises it to your lips.

"Your nose is bleeding," He murmurs, keeping his voice just as soft as your own. Your team members have dispersed, but if Morgan and Rossi glance over, they'll see the hottest gossip the BAU has had in years.

"Did you get hit?" Hotch asks, eyes focused on the space between your lip and your nose. The bridge of your nose wrinkles slightly as he presses the tissue gently into your nostril, wedging it tightly so that the blood can't escape again.

"No," You want to shake your head, but Hotch is holding it, so you can only speak. Your voice is weak, and muffled slightly by the press of the tissue against your lip.

"Do you usually get nosebleeds?" He presses, brows furrowing.

"No." You repeat, "Uh, maybe just- just adrenaline. Or something."

"Alright," Hotch nods, withdrawing the tissue from your face. It's stained crimson and it leaves a miniscule stain on his hand, something you'll be embarrassed about until the end of time. He hands it off to you and you stuff it back over your face, desperate to hide your flustered expression.

"Thank you, sir." You speak, voice nasally from the tissue obstruction.

He nods, tilting his head sideways towards the ambulance on duty, "I think we should get you checked out. Just in case, I know you said it wasn't an injury. But it's hard remembering what happened after the fact, and I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Um- okay." You agree, easier than you normally would. You're fine, you know you are, but Hotch just had his hands all over your face, so you might be on the verge of a heart attack, and medical attention when it happens would be ideal.

"Come on," He starts walking when you don't, his large hand against the small of your back to urge you forwards. Your feet crunch against twigs, leaves, and dirt alike, but you can't worry about getting them dirty, not when Hotch is guiding you to an ambulance after cupping your cheek.

You're in a haze when you step up to the ambulance, and Hotch answers for you when the EMT raises his eyebrows expectantly at you.

"Agent Y/L/N has a nosebleed." Hotch informs him, nudging you forward still with his large hand, "I just want to make sure they're okay."

"Alright, let's check that out," The EMT nods, leading you over to perch against the open bed of the van, "Agent, are you feeling faint?"

Yes.

"No," You shake your head, moving more freely as you walk away from Hotch, "Um, I'm alright."

Two gloved fingers press into your neck and the EMT's face twists into a frown, "Your heart is beating very fast."

"Adrenaline." You blurt, seeing Hotch's face darken in a concerned frown from where he's listening in. It makes things worse, and you have to look away from him to lie to the EMT, "From- uh, the chase."

The EMT"s face stays pinched in a frown for a moment, but he studies your heaving chest, faraway gaze, and shaky hands, ultimately deciding that you're right.

"I think that's a safe bet. But keep an eye on that nose, if it starts swelling you should get it checked out."

"Will do, thank you." Hotch speaks for you once again, stepping in to walk you towards the SUVs. You're sure he's only being kind, that he's worried about your hazy demeanor, but he's only making it worse.

"I want you to sit down," He orders, but it doesn't feel like one because it's so kind. He offers you the front seat of his car, and you're sure you'll get a teasingly scathing remark from Morgan about it later.

Hotch reaches across you to snag a water bottle from the center console of the car, and you think your breath might never return to your lungs. Maybe you really do need an ambulance, especially when he holds the half-empty bottle out to you.

"I want you to drink this," He watches you take it with shaky hands, "All of it. And we'll get you more back at the precinct. Y/N," He ducks his head slightly to meet your eyes, "Are you sure you're alright?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest, your head is foggy and your ears are ringing with voices telling you to just kiss him already. But you nod instead, raising the bottle to your lips the second after you speak so that you don't have to say more, "Yeah, Hotch. I'm good."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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