Requests open i write for bega masamichi x reader. Masamichi Bega x Any gender reader, Unji Zuma x Any Gender reader, and That's it thats the list
Peeny Weeny also, i love his wrecked fucked up dick. And that's all i write for. Also threesomes twosomes onesomes normal fucking stuff like that. Keep scat to yourself but yeah
Stuck + part 2, Unji Zuma x fem!reader x Masamichi Bega
word count: 5.2k
ryokan au! staff!reader x guest!zuma x guest!bega
tags: Vomit, Drunk Sex, Dubcon, Zuma has mommy issues, Ryokan, Onsen, Vomit Swallowing, dead dove do not eat, Yandere, Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Rape, Cheating, Mommy Issues, pedophile, reader has mommy issues, reader is in a relationship
he had this... heinous idea .. if he vomited in your mouth, would you get drunk.. too..? It's not like you'd.. drink with him, anyway, on a normal day.. Reaching up and cradling your neck in his palms, he suddenly pulled you down and held your chin to his chest, vomiting into your mouth and watching it run down your cheek.... in vain. Though...... for some reason, you gulped like some dumb guppy in water, and watched in horror as he wouldn't budge with your hands on him.. pushing, begging him to get off you, as he just kept feeding you more bile. choking slightly, you couldn't thrash, as you tried to push at him for air, reluctantly swallowing in the horrible acidic burning mush this thing entering your mouth, searing down your throat. some had gotten in your nose, when you coughed it out.. you breathed wildly against him, swallowing obediently, hands gripping nothing while pushed into his chest.
...
Harsh, acidic bile flooded your throat and stomach as every ounce of strength left your body. Fingertips numb and cold against his incredibly warm chest, they twitched, as if in thought that his attention could still be won, even as you gave up.
Swallowing passively the horrible texture of it all made you frown, running down your neck and refusing to dry in the hot and steamy air of the indoor onsen, while tears pricked the edges of your eye you looked drawly to the ceiling in defeat. Ahh.. what was this work. Was this ever normal? A guest fucking vomiting into your mouth.
He was in love with you, and this was the only way he could think to show it, after getting too drunk upon hearing about your girlfriend.
Your mom wasn't working as much as she used to. The business only had you to inherit it, with your mother never working front desk anymore but going out to pick and forage from the forest, letting you grow accustomed to the weight of your responsibility. Every day was sitting at the entrance, eating three meals with your mother, and praying at the family shrine. You had no plans to wed soon, but you couldn't really run the place alone with your mother for much longer, so she pestered you to find someone to run the business with as she did with your dad. Every day was spent slowly, and regulars really only started coming in during winter, for your mother's amazing cooking and of course the hot springs at this inn.
Bega, told about the place from one of his colleagues, came to visit one winter to spend with Zuma. You brought them to their room, and served them breakfast, lunch and dinner in their rooms without a sound. You'd only speak when introducing the dishes, and at first when welcoming them, writing down how long they'll stay and Bega's first name. Zuma hated the feeling, somehow, the politeness that brought you to seem almost too humble, like you were scared of speaking to him. Like you'd never had friends before, voice unexcited, small. Were you not confident, at all? You sounded patient, but for your age, it was unsettling. Like.. a mother.
It had caught his eye, after sleeping the first few nights. If you stopped speaking, it wouldn't even register.. you didn't even sound half awake, blending in with the room's ambiance.. with the soft warm hues of the wood, and the smell of cypress.. it was the incense your inn used. The wooden beams carried the smell quite well, even when there wasn't any burning.. he was a bit lost in the atmosphere, when walking around the area with Bega, sometimes missing your lunches to visit shrines, build snowmen, visit nearby hiking trails and eat snow cones. Since there was always snow, there were never stars out.. the sky was an eternal white, even at night. The others were always middle-aged men, around town and in the inn. Were sons and daughters out to work in the city? He started to grow intrigued whenever he walked past you. You grew up here, with your friends? On every hike and out to neighbouring towns to enjoy street foods and local restaurants, he started wondering how the food at the inn was the best, and if you were ever the one cooking. He knew you always worked front desk, whenever he came and left the inn. You never seemed to work the kitchen.
Did you forget how to talk? You had an air of absolutely no pride, like if he pushed you, you'd just fall. You walked and talked relatively slowly, like your blood ran cold. If he felt your hands, he was sure you'd be freezing as well. Anyone would be, in this weather. But he kept active with his dad.
The inside of the inn was a sharp contrast to the outside, of the bleary whites of snow and snowfall, against the warm and bright oranges of wood and oil lamps. There was a heater, somewhere, maybe under the desk you always sat at? He always missed the inn, once he left. And the last thing he'd see before stepping out was always your face. Your pale skin, lit by the oil lamp overhead.
Were you lonely? It kept him up, for a bit. You never smiled beyond your lips, and had shut your eyes with each time, like you were addicted to allowing him privacy. It was cold. Did all your friends leave you, to work in the city? You couldn't keep contact, he was sure. Reception was so bad here.
But sometimes, he'd catch a glimpse of a warm smile. Of a genuine laughter, a breathy chuckle, small as a giggle. Once, he was trying to call Raiya over the phone in the lobby while Bega was taking his sweet time coming back, spending his wallet dry on snacks to bring back to his colleagues at a nearby convenience store. You had overheard a simple joke he made, and seemed to quite enjoy it! And found it hilarious, how many times he had to repeat it over the phone, struggling with the signal, of course. He didn't look over his shoulder to see the face you made, but walked around his chair searching for a signal, peeking at your face to see such a childish smile. Your lips together, eyes closed and hand close to your chin. You were adding oil to a lamp. He didn't know which, though.
You worked every day, over the two weeks he stayed at the inn. Did you never watch TV, even? You two were worlds apart.
He was out of the hotel room for dinner, so you made your way up to set up his bedding. He was shy to interrupt you work, but he had left his wallet. He couldn't make a quick exit though, as the wallet was nowhere to be found.. quickly putting down the futon, you two searched together, just to find out it was in his wallet.
One day, apparently word came out that he was spending his time here. He came back from a fight, and paused. He recognized your eyes. That sorry expression, like you were beaten down to know your place. So horribly small. You were shocked speechless, and he made the first move, asking you if there were any bandages. Immediately, you stood up and asked if he needed you to bring him to the hospital, while he shook his head you went to get a towel, wetting it and sitting him at a couch to wipe the blood. Just to find that it wasn't his. He looked over at you, pointing at his cheek, you dabbed at the small scratch there, as he mentioned again that he needed a bandaid.
Then, he found out you had a girlfriend. Getting too close to you when Bega was running slow because of more souvenirs, you chastely told him to mind his step. She was your childhood sweetheart, he was sure. For some reason, it just gave him outlandish ideas on how to further try to get close to you. Like caring finally for the inner child he had killed out of necessity, he clung to you like a child, unwittingly smiling so skittish like a blushing schoolgirl in love. He didn't know much other than missing your attentive presence, nothing else mattered. Even when he heard you cum with your future wife's name on your tongue, he thought it didn't matter. At least it couldn't have mattered, any more than everything else.
He had skipped a week of school to extend his stay one more week, going against Bega. His plan was simple, pretend that he faint in the onsen and make you drag him out.. or look at him, just a little, or.. or lap pillow him. What he didn't know was that he'd get so pissed that afternoon, thinking about you and your fucking girlfriend, drinking himself silly before carrying out his plans.
Then, came time that you needed to change out the water. You called out, to no avail, and waited half an hour. Asking if he needed medical attention, or assistance, you waited for a reply before announcing that you were coming in, seeing his flushed cheeks and perplexed expression. Like he was troubled, or struggling. Quickly attempting to pull him out the water, with no real results, you then drained the onsen water, putting the towel on his head onto his dick.. which was outrageously hard, while you worked to get some water in him, with the nearby water machine. A passing thought came and left his porn-addled brain, that if he should've tried to drown instead, to make you give him cpr. Laying him down, you brought him a fever patch, and fanned him, his head on your lap.. it was heat stroke, probably..
His mind was reeling from excitement. He finally had alone time with you..! He had so many ways to get up. Pretend to be drowsy, and drop face first into your tits? Sneak a grab, or accidentally kiss you? Pretend like he's completely off his rocker, or something?! Then suddenly, his arms shot out and he locked his hands together behind your neck, hugging you down to his chest and throwing the fuck up into your mouth. He was already over his limit, by that time. Soaking piss drunk wasn't really a good idea. As a putrid passing thought took shape, he bird fed you all that he drank, having been actually quite the lightweight. You looked pained as you drank, trying not to think or choke to avoid fucking suffocating. When the endless stream of bile finally passed, leaving you sitting in a wet, miserable marble floor, the sleek stone of it previously a luxurious pleasure that has now been reduced to just shit. Just what you sat on while you drank actual human bile.
The air was disgusting. A horrible pain painted your tongue, down to your throat and stomach, every breath burnt with his stomach acid still lingering in each second that passed. He kept you held at his chest, breathing into you while feeling your soft hurried pants against his lips, his erection twitchy and shifting the wet towel off his middle. The pad of his thumb stroked over your blush-reddened cheeks, while he watched attentively you breathe and gasp against him. You were shying away from him, as always.. but now, it was on his terms. It wasn't your baseless confusion, your baseless distance and timidity. Palm pushing over your forehead, nudging off stray hairs that clung to your face as you slowly regained your strength, scanning over and over at his face as the remaining taste in your mouth was finally gulped away, since he wouldn't let you look away. He patted at his forehead, and brought your hand to the fever patch. It was warm, you needed to change it out with a new one.
How could you choose between a person's wellbeing and your own, as the few moments you spent with his vomit in your mouth blurred over, while you almost fainted trying to take in air so frantically? There was this numbness at your nose, that you pinched at just to find no relief, an irritating stinging sensation at the bone of your nose bridge taking up all your focus. Reaching for the next fever patch you set by your side with a free hand, you replaced his, massaging your nose bridge.
You both sat in silent awareness of.. everything, while he pretended to fall asleep in your lap. Would you have to stay until he woke up? Thumbing open his eye, and blowing it, he laid lifeless in your lap. Why were things like this? You'd stay with him until opening hours, at least. This was bad. Hands resting by your sides, you waited to run away. While he waited in turn. After thirty minutes, though, he started thinking you were a heavyweight. He emptied his stomach, didn't he..? It was a lot. Your hands were at your side, he had to check. Squeezing your hand, he looked disappointed while you pulled away, but then watched the whole world stop before his eyes when he realised your expression.
Your face was red, and you looked upset at him, pouting and blinking down at him. You moved, and leaned your head onto folded arms atop the wet marble floor, closing your eyes while he manoeuvred your hips up. What was happening?! Out of the blue, you moved away and curled up, sleeping on your arms, rear directly facing him..! He pulled off your jinbei shorts, but couldn't take looking at you like that. Leaning over and supporting his chest with your back, he pushed himself onto you, holding your ass to his stomach. Hands splayed at your lower stomach. He could feel the hem of your grey underwear, and still it wasn't enough. Overcome with a new affection, he nudged his head against yours, slipping a finger under the fabric that just kept him barely conscious of how he trampled completely over every single boundary. With a caution that he exerted just to not get too unreasonable, he ghosted over your clit, rolling the pad of his fingertip up and down to your entrance, just trying to get a feel of where everything was. You weren't wet, by any means, and seemed quite unresponsive. Were you already past your bedtime? He needed to see your face. Hand cupping your chin, he tilted you up to meet his gaze. Gah!? You were completely asleep?!
He laid you on your back, to rest his stomach on yours as well. His entire length rested on your stomach, and you blinked yourself up at the sight. He pet your clit under your underwear, gently caressing over the sensitive skin of it, your legs parted with him in between your knees. You always got sleepy, when you got caught up with clit play. Pillows were your best friend, after all. Your girlfriend knew. It was like a pavlov reaction, you always went to sleep afterwards, so doing it automatically made you tired. Not that used to direct stimulation, though you started humping onto his palm after some time, he handled you gently, almost far too gently. Literally ghosting and barely touching you, when he did you jerked up to meet his touch, needy and worthlessly happy. You thought of your wedding ring, of finally reuniting with her, when she gets back. He kept giving you too little, while you ached for more. You actually ended up taking out his hand and grinding up into it over your panties, lip chewed on while you caught your breath, humping him while he supportively held his palm in place, unmoving.
His lip was bleeding, he felt like a bastard. You finally needed him like he did you, but he couldn't even look at you. His buzzcut was prickly and rough against your chin, only he registered it while he listened, the harsh noise of it following him nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Melding with the sound of your hushed breaths, and shirt shuffling on marble. He couldn't believe he was doing this, as he heard you mewl and whisper your fiancé's name, jerking and twitching under his hand, orgasm contorting your stomach in waves. You didn't need him, he couldn't do anything. You'd forget all about this, all about how you could ever love anybody outside your childhood lover. Just because he didn't meet you earlier? Just because he wasn't born around here? Screw fate. Screw how things should be. He wanted to knock you up and tie you to him for life. But obviously it would kill him to even try.
You would have the most beautiful clothes, he would work day and night like a dog. But you wouldn't want that, none of him mattered. He aimlessly tried at your neck, nursing hickey upon hickey upon hickey, but it was no use. You'd never be his, even if he carved his name on you or branded it on with ten cigarettes. But while you held him by the wrist and drifted off to sleep, he found it to be perfectly content, watching your face soften and feeling your chest move, hearing you breathe. Shoving a hand in your shirt, he played with your tits while inching downward, he could at least continue, make you happier. Even if it wasn't his place to. But the heart break was too much, as he instead wrapped your hand around his member and got himself off, shoving his tip up to your lips and finishing in your mouth. He massaged your throat to try to get it down.
You both were spent. Trotting over to his room cradling you in his arms, your underwear being out for anyone to see was the last of his concerns. He slept hugging onto you, clinging onto a dumb hope that you'd find some way to forgive him, because he knew that other than praying he could do no else. In the afternoon, his room had only him in it, and he waited longingly for you to bring him lunch.
...
Even Bega thinks he's lost his mind, hung up on you. Sitting his son down for a chat one evening, to ask what the fuck he's been doing, spending a week off school just to see.. Zuma looking away bashfully, with a nervous grin. This face he's never seen on him before. He sighed and made Zuma walk him through the news. What the fuck? He was in love with their attendant? Who was already taken?? He gave him a firm scolding, but Zuma just smiled sheepishly like nothing else mattered. It took Bega straight back to his childhood days. He didn't allow Zuma to skip anymore, and kept a firm eye on him while patrolling to make sure he wasn't sneaking off to anywhere.
Bega wouldn't understand.. his mommy issues. But he'd understand a moment's loneliness taking over every ounce of his being. One night, he'd visit, drink at the park and realise you were too, and apologize for his son. On vacation again, bringing Zuma. In that moment, he thought you were much older. Drunk, you told him happily about your future wife, that he had nothing to worry over. Zuma wasn't a bother, just a guest. He was taken aback by her age. You were getting together with a woman his age? He asked more about her, and you spoke with a womanly air, about how well she treats you and how much she reminds you of a mother. He started getting teary eyed, and spoke through your apology, that he always knew his lover would be a great mother too. Though the most shocking thing was the story of how you two met. She was your teacher?
You hated going to school since you were taking over the family business anyway, and learning was a pain, and your family were against you slacking off.. she was the only person you had against the whole world. She'd cheer you up, and more. You told him you wouldn't trade her for the whole world.
Suddenly, you asked him if he missed his mother. "..Yes. I do."
You both bore a sorrowful expression. Clinging onto him, you murmured about how your mom had no time for you anymore, and you only had the memories to go off of. She thinks that you're not her little girl anymore. He steeled himself to not act out too badly, but the drinks got the best of him, and he could only shake and cry as he thought back to a warm mother's embrace. Holding onto you, he patted your back, while you nuzzled into his neck. He was a good father, you told him. He thought for a second, that Zuma would be pissed, and realised that he was indeed spending time with a girl his son's age. Pulling away, to no use, he sat defeated in your arms. Just waiting for you to pull away.
You asked him how his mother was. How much he missed of her. He told you about his favorite dishes growing up, about the places he'd visit with his family. Just local sightseeing, but it was magical as long as he was with his family. Patting your back, he told you he would die to taste his mother's cooking just one last time. You told him he couldn't, since he had a son to look after.
Fully wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head, he wondered if he was being a good father to you right now. You missed your mother? Was that.. for some reason, he felt like you were trapped in your relationship with that older woman. Was she filling that hole in your chest? He asked about your relationship with her, and you were sheepish to admit that you two had gotten together since you were nine, in secret. That she taught you a lot of things. Bega tried not to reel in disgust, but found it silly. Wasn't he doing the same? Holding you drunk in the middle of the night? Enjoying the warmth amidst the snow? He shook his head, it wasn't like he set that clear of boundaries either. He asked you about Zuma, and the week he spent running off to here. You told him about how you sat with him in the hot springs then woke in his room next to his naked body, with your pants being nowhere in sight! He paused completely, there was no unisex bath, was there? You shook your head, and said he was staying there beyond working hours, and you had found him fainted in the springs. He apologized in Zuma's stead. He dully laughed. Wow, for a woman to be with such a young partner, it must be a good feeling to know you're conventionally attractive enough for a healthy spry young person. His textured skin and wrinkles told him more than he could know about it. You cupped over his cheek. No, no. You're beautiful.. and muscular, and so cool. Anyone would be lucky to share their life with you. He was joking, he said. About finding a younger partner. He was already too old for fancy ideas, or the young life, for parties and all that. You just told him that he could drink and get drunk well. He was good company.
To you two's shock, your girlfriend sat down at the bench, by Bega's side. She had heard you were drinking at the park, and wanted to come with, after reconsideration. This dude was totally her type though. You could just watch in horror as she held him too, smiling that lovestruck smile while she talked to him. She hasn't looked so happy with you in a while. Did you not excite her as you did, before? Crying, you hiccuped against his chest as your girlfriend set you on her lap, kissing your neck and holding you tight. Bega wondered if he should leave. You asked him if he'd ever remarry. He shook his head no. While you clung to your partner like a child, he asked your girlfriend how you two spent your days together. She said all you two do is sleep together, ending her sentence with a kiss at your nape. He thought it was innocent enough, until you hid into her shoulder as she kneaded your ass. You whispered something in her ear, but she frowned and shook her head, telling you to be quiet. Oh, no wonder you missed your mother's warmth. She.. your lover treated you so coldly. He tried to talk to your girlfriend, but couldn't keep her eye contact. She was looking at him like she could strip him with her eyes. Asking her to be kinder to you, she nodded timidly, setting you down between the two of them. Bega happily spoke to you, while your girlfriend listened, nursing on her thing of rice wine while occasionally giving you hickeys on your neck. He'd have half the mind to leave to give you some privacy, but wanted to keep an eye on you two's dynamic. Were you like a pet to her?
Zuma came out to get Bega, and saw you three drunk outside huddled together on a bench. Furious with that middle aged woman kissing all up and down your neck, Zuma hoisted you up and carried you back, making his way to the inn and into his shared room with Bega while he followed. Your girlfriend was sad to see everyone go, but kept drinking at the park to fight off the cold. Getting back to his room, he set you down on his futon and began kissing over your hickeys, so upset that some stranger would do something like that to you while you were drunk at the park. Did they mistake you for a young man? That woman seemed drunk out her mind. Bega made his way in with a slam of the door, to see you squirming under his son and getting more hickeys bitten and sucked into you. He knelt beside you two and pried you two apart, muttering about how this was ridiculous, and that he shouldnt've picked this night to go drinking. He could only catch his breath when he watched you slip off your winter jinbei shorts, the wide-hem thing of it having covered you originally below your knees. Was it your girlfriend's? You were needy, from all the toying with Zuma and your girlfriend did. Zuma, completely fazed by how he could and was acting in front of his own father, stood in place while watching you slump your shoulders onto the floor, while your hips were propped up by your knees. Really? He couldn't do anything? In this golden fucking opportunity? Bega made a move first, moving over to try and get your pants on, but Zuma thought otherwise, shielding you away from him, as he refused to shy away from the old man's bark. He was scared. Bega wasn't sure why, until he saw the raging boner fucking singing beneath his own loose clothes. This old man? Was hard? No, just drunk out his mind, he called Zuma crazy. No, he didn't want a piece of you, what on earth did Zuma think was going on here? But as you whined, he grimaced, moving forward to dress you. Zuma genuinely was ready to fuck him up, why the fuck was Bega approaching you with such a crazy tent? Kicking him by the stomach, Zuma got flipped over onto his ass as Bega grabbed and twisted the foot that had been planted at his stomach, almost hurling at the sight now of being this close to your underwear clad ass. You were wearing grey panties.. Zuma tackled you, and held you to him, while begging for Bega to just fucking have another drink outside. Bega palmed his forehead, a bitter look to his face as he got genuinely so tired of fighting you two like this drunk, he sat on his futon and could barely watch as you got fucking assaulted before his eyes. Zuma was a good kid. Why was he acting up like this? Was he that in love with you? You had crawled over to lay in Bega's lap, to his surprise, and laid right next to his tent. Zuma looked at him from the opposite side of the room like he shot him. You were clinging to his dad? His horny wrinkly no good fucking dad? Grumbling, he knelt over you and asked you if this was what you wanted, pushing your face against the tent you just barely missed your head on. Bega nearly jumped out his fucking skin, looking up at the ceiling, near passing out.. he worked day shifts, recently. This was a bad time. This inebriated, and sleepy.. it was a bad mix. He actually felt himself drifting. You looked shy, but couldn't pull away with Zuma's hand at your head holding you steady. Face rubbing against the obscene tent, Zuma celebrated a silent victory. At least this middle aged, wrinkly scum wasn't some stranger on a bench with you, groping you while you sat without a sound. This was someone he trusted. You held yourself steady, two hands coming to grip Bega's sides, which Zuma took as you trying to get his old man's dick out. This rejection was too hard to bear.. shoving a hand in his dad's pants, he pulled out the cock you so dumbly needed, sitting you up and leaning you on Bega's chest, pushing aside your underwear to help you ease yourself on his cock. You were way too fucking wet.
Bega was barely not out of it, groaning at the feel of his tip angled against your entrance. Lifting you up, Zuma knelt behind you, and moved you onto and down the length of Bega's cock. Why you squirmed and struggled with his tip, he didn't know. You wanted this, weren't you used to things like this? Letting any local take a turn, apparently? He didn't know, not for a second that your girlfriend was actually middle aged and not your high school sweetheart, as he raised your hips and repeatedly slammed you down on that cock you wanted so much, whispering sweet nothings in your ear about how much you loved middle aged people and how much of a whore you were for even trying to front that you were exclusive. You bit and cried out against Bega's chest, while he only twitched and jerked his hips in response, eyes tired, chin to his chest. He was reminded.. of how, at the beginning of his wife's parting, he actually called an escort as per his coworker's instructions. He clamped a hand over his eyes, his pants staining a dark blue as you were forced up and down his dick, whimpering and panting. Your lover never fucked you, like this. She had a strap on, but you were the only one who used it. Occasionally you'd get fingered by her, on a good day, and sometimes she might try to stretch you out for a dildo, but only let you cockwarm on it afterwards. Your girlfriend was easy to get spent. As Bega was pushed in and out of you, you bit onto your arm, the feeling overwhelming. Goosebumps lined your arms and your shoulders, he was hitting some.. god awful spot, right at the pit of your stomach. You could feel it jutting out, whenever you were brought down onto him. Crying out for Zuma to stop, he just bit his lip, and asked you how many people you've done this with, all while you tried to reject his advances, pushing Bega aside and down on the floor to help you ride him properly. He'd slam you down onto his old man's hips, watch you cry out, and didn't care when you eventually came to your girlfriend's name, a dark look in his eyes while he sat on Bega's chest and made out with you, pissed while enjoying your fucked out look, face red and eyes rimmed with tears.
