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yueebby · 5 months

Text

4:36am – gojo satoru

synopsis. satoru is dying (he has a fever) and he needs his darling wife (you) to nurse him back to health

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, even in sickness gojo can still flirt, he yaps a lot abt marriage and he’s kind of perverted, but he’s just so in love why dont you just give him one chance?

notes. i tried to make this very shoujo-esque. cant have a good shoujo anime without a fever episode! this has also been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. enjoy yet another fic of me showering satoru with affection (sigh).

the cold wooden floors of your dormitory creak underneath your waddling feet. your sleepy haze does not deter you from the strong desire for a cold glass of water.

surprisingly, the usual dark communal kitchen is illuminated by the small lightbulb inside of the fridge. you hear shuffling of some items from the white icebox, removing any ounce of sleepiness from you. it was unusual for anyone to be up at four in the morning.

a tuft of white hair peeks over the refrigerator door, giving the culprit’s identity away.

“satoru? i thought you were still on that mission in sendai?”

the sounds of digging pauses. satoru’s rises to his full height, towering over the rundown refrigerator door. he gives you a crooked smile that you rarely see. it’s dopier than one of his signature cocky smiles.

“missed me? don’t worry, i tried to speed run it since i knew i had such a beautiful woman waiting for me back home.”

you placed a hand on your hip, scoffing at his pathetic attempts to flatter you. a snarky response was about to fall from your lips, but a series of painful coughs from the lanky male stopped you.

you recoil back to avoid his germs. “gross. are you sick?”

satoru sniffles, pointing his nose in the air. the same nose that was starting to turn pink from irritation. “i can’t get sick. it’s physically impossible.”

“don’t be stubborn, satoru. why didn’t you call for help?”

he huffs, eyes trained to the floor. “it’s too early. shoko’ll kill me for waking her up.”

sometimes you forget that satoru had an image to uphold. he was the great gojo satoru, after all.

but if you don’t take care of him, then who will? and despite your disdain at the thought of coddling his ego, it was only basic decency to take care of a fellow peer (or that was what you’d like to convince yourself).

silently, you place the back of your hand to his forehead. you’re not surprised by the warm sensation that you feel.

satoru’s hazy eyes watch as you move your hand from his forehead to his cheek.

you purse your lips in concern. with the way satoru was stubbornly denying that he wasn’t sick, you were nearly certain that he was indeed not fine. without warning, you grab the collar of his white t-shirt and pull him to your room.

“at least take me out to dinner before~”

“shut it.”

it wasn’t hard to get satoru to settle in your bed. in fact, he seemed giddy at the opportunity. while he was happy cuddling with your rilakkuma plushie, you came to two conclusions: either satoru had a wound from his mission that got infected, or he was simply sick.

knowing his pride, you lean towards the former.

the boy in question winces when you grab his shoulders to inspect the damage done to him. the sounds of furious pats and heavy breathing is the only thing you can hear over your rapidly beating heart as your hands run down his body to check for any injuries. satoru sucks in his breath when your hands cup his cheeks to loll his head to check for any damages done to that pretty face of his.

his body tensing up doesn’t go unnoticed by you. your imposing hands immediately retract, afraid of inflicting any more damage on him.

“where is the wound?!” your frantic eyes meet his blissed out ones.

satoru sighs happily, lazily grabbing your hands to bring back onto him, “there isn’t one, this just feels nice.”

your chest angrily puffs up before you shove him into your soft mattress. he grunts, but you know it didn’t hurt.

“[name]!” he whines, rubbing the arm that cushioned his fall.

you cross your arms angrily, “you scared me!”

gojo mimics your actions, crossing his arms while weakly glaring at you. his efforts to intimidate you prove futile as he shivers uncontrollably, resembling a newborn kitten.

sighing, you delve into your closet, emerging with an oversized black sweatshirt that you toss to him.

he catches it with ease, a chuckle escaping while he inspects the sweater, “i never took you for the type to wear this.”

“....that’s not mine.” you give a nod in the direction of the men’s sweater. the sparkle of amusement vanished from satoru's eyes, coinciding with his jaw dropping.

his grip on the dark sweatshirt tightened while his head darted back and forth from you to the clothing item. “then whose is it?!”

“suguru’s.”

you think that you’ve broken him when his face scrunches up in disgust. it’s laughable how his mouth had managed to stay wide open the entire time.

“sugu-suguru?!” he splutters. you slowly nod, careful not to make any sudden movements that could provoke him any further. “why– how– explain yourself!”

you cast an uneasy glance at the sweater, finding it challenging to summon any recollections of how you obtained it, especially with satoru's piercing cerulean eyes fixed on you. his scrutinizing stare has the power to reduce you into a puddle.

“well? go on,” he urges you when you stay silent.

“it’s nothing, really. i believe it was from that mission i had with suguru a while back. somewhere up north. i had packed light and suguru offered me his sweater.” you tap a finger on your chin to recall the memory. “i guess it just slipped my mind to return it.”

“slipped your mind, huh…” satoru sniffles before letting out a sneeze loud enough to wake up japan. you nearly jump out of your skin.

“suguru was just being friendly… and be quiet! yaga will have our heads if he finds you in the girls’ wing!” you warn the weary boy in front of you, prompting him to respond with a dramatic sigh.

“how mean!” he whines before making a pained expression. you quickly rush to his aid. when you make it to his bedside, satoru weakly hands you a clean tissue.

you stare at it blankly.

“be a darling and help me blow my nose?” he gestures for you to hold the tissue up for him. all you can hear are muffled whines when you shove him underneath your plush covers.

when your flurry of attacks ends, he cautiously lifts his head from beneath the sheets. to his surprise, a steaming bowl of bitter melon miso soup is presented to him. while the broth isn't your personal favorite, shoko appreciates its bold flavor, spurring your decision to prepare it the night prior. despite its bitter components, the concoction had a perfect track record of treating illnesses. you have your brown haired friend to thank.

perhaps it was cruel of you to take enjoyment while he eyes the bowl in horror. you know his sweet palate couldn’t handle it.

he looks up at you with big pleading eyes while shaking his head. you roll your eyes.

“c’mon, it won’t kill you.” the bowl inches closer to him by your doing. “please?”

satoru's pallid complexion contorts into a hesitant frown. "i’ll eat it…” he concedes reluctantly. however, his gaze lingers on the bowl with a mixture of uncertainty and reluctance. you respond with a hopeful smile, but it fades when he adds, "on two conditions."

“this is for your own health, not mine satoru.” you remind him.

“doesn’t it pain you to see me suffer?” he brings up, eyes glittering in the darkness.

you suck in a breath. “...not really.” lie.

“you wound me, love.” he clutches his shirt like he has been critically hit.

you bite your lip, tired of his theatrics. “what are the two conditions?”

just like that, gojo comes back to life.

“condition number one! you have to feed me.” he points one finger into the air, paired with an innocent smile. “and two: i want you to warm me up like that night in our first year.”

an unflattering appalled expression is cast over your face. no words leave your mouth for a good minute. “y-you’re disgusting. why are you the way you are?”

“love,” he sighs. “anyways, what kind of wife wouldn’t feed her husband while he’s dying?”

“satoru,” you warn. he was starting to babble nonsense again. “if i accept your conditions, will you shut up?” your eyes were starting to feel heavy. it was the middle of the night, after all.

he nods fervently.

carefully with the bowl of soup in hand, you gently squish yourself next to satoru on your full sized bed. the tight fit left you little room to move, forcing the two of you to nestle closely to each other. with a gentle maneuver, you rest your head on his chest. his arm slowly drapes itself protectively over your shoulder.

“your heart is beating awfully fast.” you whisper, tilting your head upward to take a glimpse of satoru’s feverish face. his breath hitches.

he takes a hand and holds your head back onto his chest to prevent your movement.

“shut it. i didn’t think you would actually accept my conditions.” he mumbles.

“don’t get used to it. this is another moment of weakness.”

you stir the spoon in the broth, basking in the silence of the night, save for satoru’s erratic heartbeat.

“this is very intimate isn’t it?” he gushes. “it’s almost like we’re married—”

“keep your side of the deal,” you remind him, lifting a spoonful of broth up to his mouth. satoru looks straight into your eyes as he opens his mouth to receive it.

his adam's apple bobs when he swallows, “i’m going to tell our grandkids that we were written in the stars.”

you shove another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

extra notes

satoru magically recovered from his fever the next morning.

his second condition (for you to warm him up like that night in your first year) refers to this fic from earlier on in the series.

satoru also made you promise to never accept another hoodie from suguru. if you needed one, satoru was more than willing to give you his! (you halfheartedly agree, only because he was acting all delirious because of his fever).

as of right now, there have only been three occasions where satoru has fallen asleep in your presence. he can testify that those were the best nights of sleep in his life.

shoko went into your room for a spare pair of stockings the next morning only to find you tucked into gojo’s chest. she chases him out of your room all while calling him a pervert . bless her heart.

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#remember spring days!au #rsd!au #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk fluff #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x reader

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sceletaflores · 7 months

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A Different Kind of Compensation.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

part two!

pairing: mike schmidt x fem!reader

prompt: you’ve been babysitting abby for mike nearly three months now. he constantly apologizes for not paying you yet, you constantly tell him it doesn't bother you. one night he comes back from his shift at freddy’s and has a different idea on how to compensate you for all of your hard work.

warnings: 18+, oral (fem receiving), vaginal fingering (kinda???), munch!mike.

word count: this was supposed to be a short dirty work that somehow turned into a 2.2k monster. told you i love to ramble.

authors note: remember when i said i might write smut if i was just so moved by an ask? well turns out my very first ask moved me. y'all are nasty, i love it. mike, of course, is a munch because why would he be anything else? i never, with a capital N, write smut so please bear with me if it sucks. i hope whoever requested this loves it! i wrote it instead of finishing my scientific article for bio so it better be decent hehe.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

The sound of the front door opening followed by heavy footsteps woke you up from where you were dozing off on the couch. You gazed at the clock on the side table near you and sure enough, 6:10 blinked back at you. Mike was finally home. You heard him shuffling around in the kitchen, most likely shedding his work vest and hanging his keys on the little hook by the door.

You yawned, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you sat up on the couch. The blanket you used to cover yourself falling to pool around your waist. Mike finally made his way to the living room, sitting on the couch with a soft grunt.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice rough from lack of use. “Abby eat anything?”

“Yeah, a little,” You mutter back through a barely concealed yawn, head lolling to rest on the back of the couch. “You know how she is.”

He hums in acknowledgement but stays silent apart from that, keeping his gaze trained on the infomercial playing on TV. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you. You sit up even further on the couch, leaning against the arm rest facing Mike. The blue/green hue of the TV bathed him in light, his hair was unruly with curls sticking out at awkward angles. He had deep bags under his eyes. Just as you thought about getting up to take off, he spoke up again.

“I promise I’ll get you the money,” he says softly, not taking his eyes off the TV, “I…I just need some time.”

You scoff in mock annoyance, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Mike, you know I don’t care about the money. I don’t mind doing this for you.” You reply, nudging his knee with your foot softly then just leaving it perched on his lap.

Mike finally turns to look at you, there's a strange look on his face that you can’t quite place, but you give him a small smile all the same. He stares at you for a few beats, you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“You deserve something,” he whispers, his brows furrowed in frustration. “You do so much for me, it’s only fair.” As he speaks, he slowly moves his hand off the couch to your ankle still resting on his thigh, he starts rubbing slow circles over the skin there. His eyes never left yours as he touched you, a very obvious question in them. Asking if you wanted this.

Heat instantly rushed to your belly, cheeks turning a light shade of red at his touch. You’d always thought Mike was attractive, but you never would have imagined he’d want to be anything more than friends. Since he was already so busy with taking care of Abby and his hellish new job.

You swallow once before speaking, your throat feeling dry all of a sudden. “What are you suggesting?” You ask so softly, wondering if he even heard you. Mikes’ fingers stop in favor of trailing his hand up your calf in a featherlight touch, disappearing under the blanket to seek out more of your soft skin. Your heart is beating so fast you think you might die, the sound of it echoing in your ears loudly.

Mike's big brown eyes stare into yours with a newfound intensity, visibly shocked that you're reacting so viscerally to his touch, his pupils are blown to hell. Chocolate brown being swallowed by black. His tongue coming out to sweep over his top lip.

“How about you,” he says slowly, scooting closer to you on the small couch. He crowds into your personal space like he belongs there. Mike’s lips inches away from yours. He smells like old leather and dust from being cramped in the security office at Freddy’s. Your chest heaves as your eyes flit back and forth from his eyes to his lips. Seconds drag by like hours as you painstakingly wait for him to finish his sentence. “Stay right there while I make you feel good.” He finally says, his breath fanning over your face hotly. You can’t even speak, afraid of how desperate you might sound, just nodding your head roughly, not looking away from his hungry gaze.

Mike’s hand runs up your leg quickly after you give him the green-light, slipping further under the blanket and higher up your leg until he reaches his destination. He rubs you gently through your shorts, your breath hitches sharply at what should be just a simple touch, but you’re still so worked up from earlier that it feels ten times more extreme. You grasp the blanket still strewn over your lap tightly in your fists, it's the only thing keeping you from seeing Mike’s hand at work between your legs.

Mike reacts to touching you for the first time like he can feel it too. His breath stutters out of his chest, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your already wet folds through your thin cotton sleeping shorts. “Fuck.” He breathes out quietly, so quietly you doubt he even meant to say it out loud. He opens his eyes again, breathing slightly rougher as he stares at you through his arousal induced haze and heavy eyelids.

Seeing your face must spur him on because he starts rubbing with more fervor than before, his clever fingers applying more pressure making you moan softly. You cut yourself off quickly, eyes darting down the hall to Abby's bedroom door. It's still closed, there's no light leaking through the crack between it and the floor.

"Shit, Mike." You whine quietly.

Mike groans softly at the sound of his name leaving your lips, body trembling slightly with the feeling. Suddenly he wrenches his hand out from under the blanket, and rips it off your lap frantically. You gasp sharply at the cool air breaking through the bubble of warmth the blanket provided, involuntarily closing your legs.

Mike pushes up from his position on the couch next to you, knee walking over so he's kneeling in-front of your clenched thighs. You're still slightly sprawled across the cushions, leaning on the arm of the couch.

"Do you know how crazy you make me?" He asks roughly, putting both his hands on your still closed knees. It takes a second for your brain to catch up to answer him, after a few moments you finally manage a faint shake of your head.

"No?" He asks, tilting his head to the left slightly. "Let me show you then."

Mike grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to him, and leads your hand down into his lap. Your breath catches in your throat when he places your hand directly over his clothed erection, but it gets drowned out by Mike's louder whine thanks to you touching him for the first time. You drag your eyes downward, his dark grey sweatpants leave little to the imagination. He got more worked up touching you than you first thought, if the wet patch forming near the tip of his hard-on was anything to go by.

As soon as you started to rub him with purpose, Mike grabbed your wrist, halting your efforts. "No," He said breathlessly, practically panting. "No, this is for you tonight. Just wanna focus on you."

He let go of your wrist, turning his head in your direction. Both of you failed to realize how close you'd gotten when he dragged you to him. Your noses practically touch when he turns, catching you both off guard. His eyes travel down to your lips, staring at how red and puffy they'd gotten from you biting them to muffle your moans.

"How sweet of you, Mike." You whisper, leaning in just a tad closer. He lets out a guttural groan and closes the distance between your lips, claiming your mouth with his own. He leans forward, gently guiding you to lay back on the couch. His body completely covering yours as the two of you makeout, his arms on either side of your head and his hips slotting against yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock against your cunt. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking up to meet his.

Mike breaks the kiss with a whine, trying to muffle the noise by shoving his face in your neck. You bring your hands up to tangle in his curly hair, yanking it roughly as he starts littering kisses all along your collarbones. Nipping and sucking in-between his gasping little moans as you twist and pull his hair in your grip.

He tears his mouth away to stare up at you through his lashes, his lips are swollen and red. “Please,” He gasps out, his hips unconsciously grinding down into your thigh. “Let me eat you out. Please. Tell me I can, say I can.” He babbles, hips rutting faster every second you don’t answer him.

“Yes.” You exclaim as quietly as possible. “Do it, Mike. Eat me out.”

Mike’s whole body shudders at your words, eyes falling closed for a second before he quickly slides down your body, leaving an odd kiss here and there as he goes. He brings his hands up to grip the waistband of your shorts, pausing to take a single steadying breath, then he tugs them down along with your panties and tosses them aside. He stares down at you in awe for a good few moments before he lays on his stomach, right in front of your dripping cunt.

Mike kisses along the inside of your thighs for a bit, licking everywhere but where you want him to the most. “Thank you.” he mutters, tone way too earnest for the situation at hand but you don’t have much time to think about it before he’s diving face first into your thighs.

“Fuck!” You let your voice get way too loud in the quiet atmosphere of the house, but you can’t help it. You didn’t think Mike had lots of experience because of some late night drunken talks before, but he was either lying or holding out. He works his tongue expertly along every inch of you. Every swirl, flick, or suck has you catapulting to the edge way faster than you’d imagined.

It doesn't help that Mike keeps letting out these noises. Small needy whines or deep guttural groans that you can feel. He’s moaning like he’s the one getting head, unashamed and authentic. It’s so fucking sexy.

“Shit Mike, I’m close. I’m so close.” You whisper too quietly for him to hear with his head trapped between your thighs, but it doesn’t matter. Mike brings his thumb up to lightly circle your clit as he laps against your entrance, and you're gone.

Your thighs shake as you release, grabbing on Mike’s hair for dear life as you go through the most intense orgasm ever. He moans into your cunt, working you through the aftershocks. He laves his tongue along you until the overstimulation gets to be too much and you drag his face away by his hair.

He sits up, the bottom half of his face covered in spit and slick. That visual alone is almost enough to get you ready for round two. It’s silent except for the heavy breathing coming from you both.

After he catches his breath, Mike retrieves the blanket from behind his back somewhere to cover the lower half of your body. Your thighs are still shaking as he lays next to you, it’s a tight squeeze but neither of you seem to mind. He kisses the side of your face sweetly, throwing his arm around your waist to pull you in even closer.

You finally regain enough conscience to speak. “Are you sure you don’t want to get off?” You ask, “I mean I can’t feel my legs but I’m sure we could think of something.” Mike only laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, this was about you.” He said, beginning to rub his fingers back and forth on your hip. “Plus I, uh, I already sort of…” He trails off, a flush forming on his cheeks.

It took you a second to realize what he was saying, but when it clicked you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your mouth. You lifted up the blanket covering the two of you, and sure enough Mike had an impressive wet patch seeping through his sweats.

He pinches your hip lightly, offended by your giggling. “Don’t laugh at me,” He complains with a smile, yanking the blanket back up. “I couldn’t help it.”

You stifle another laugh to the best of your ability, though your shoulders still shake ever so slightly. You turn your head to press a kiss to his lips. It’s different from the previous kisses you shared tonight. It’s slower and softer, full of a new emotion that you both feel, but know that it can wait to be talked about later. For now you’re both just basking in the afterglow.

You break the kiss first, pulling back only slightly to lean your forehead against his. You both smile at each other for a second.

“Okay,” You give in, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away from his face. “But believe that tomorrow is all about you.”

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oepionie · 1 year

Text

HIS COMPLETE DEVOTION: THE AFTERMATH. malleus draconia

Synopsis: A week after the spell incident, Lilia tells Malleus about all the things he's done to you when he lost his memory. Horrified at his actions, Malleus locks himself away in his room to brood.

Character/s: Malleus Draconia x GN! Reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Crack-Fluff, Malleus is really dramatic, Intense love, Lilia drags Malleus' ass, Lilia turns into his true form, Malleus has gargoyle bedsheets lol, Flustered Malleus, Malleus kneels for u

A/N: Might have went a little bit overboard here loll, I just read a bunch of sagau zhongli fics and it inspired me eheg

WordCount: 800+ | 💌Masterlist | PART I HERE

Malleus Draconia was in love with you. There was no doubt regarding that.

Every bit of your affection, no matter how small or big makes Malleus melt. In the aftermath of your love, he has trouble keeping his heart still as it bounces and dances around his chest. His face blossoms a bright red and a wide silly smile remains on his face for hours, leaving his cheeks burning and strained.

The dragon fae always clung onto you, standing by your side like a devoted knight - so vigilant and attentive that it would put his own retainers to shame.

Though, why is it now that you find yourself eating lunch all alone, with your dragon nowhere to be found?

Well…after the incident last week, Malleus dared not to show his face to you.

Lilia had told him about everything that had transpired that day and oh, how he hated to hear about the sorrow of his cherished treasure. It trod on, tore at, and beat at his poor heart. Even more so once he found out he was the cause of your pain. Such an unpardonable act that Malleus, overcome with grief, shut himself in his room.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't visit him. Every time you entered the area around his room, a push of wind magic would always carry you away; it was gentle enough to never hurt you but firm enough to never let you get past.

After days of trying, you decided to simply give Malleus his space, hoping that he wasn't taking it too seriously…

Guilt.

Such a twisted, dreadful feeling which gnawed at his bones and mauled his conscience.

Malleus sits in his bedroom, glaring down at his feet. After locking himself up, the young prince refused to speak to anyone and only came out when it was time for class.

When he was in school, he avoided you like the plague; immediately teleporting away as soon as he caught sight of your figure.

It was safe to say that he wasn't taking the situation so lightly and after a week of his dramatics and Sebek's mourning, Lilia eventually had to step in.

"No!" Malleus growls, tugging his gargoyle themed blanket away from Lilia's grasp and burying his head underneath it.

Lilia sighs and yanks it away from him once more, glaring at Malleus with a stern look. "Do you plan on going about the entire month sulking like this?"

"Yes. Yes I do." Malleus huffs, a puff of fire floating into the air before dissolving into ash and smoke. He turns his back to his guardian and shuts his eyes tight. "Leave."

Silence falls over the room as the two stay still. Lilia squints his eyes, slowly rolling the sleeves to his shirt up. His hair grows, draping over his shoulders and cascading down his back. Malleus turns to glance at him, eyes ripping wide open as he recognises Lilia in his true form.

"I may be old but that doesn't mean I've grown brittle." Lilia rushes forward, tackling Malleus in a vice grip. The dragon writhes in his arms but Lilia's hold doesn't falter one bit. He carries the wriggling fae out the dorm, along a path Malleus was all too familiar with.

"Now, let's go to that darling treasure of yours."

Despite Malleus' protests, the bat fae dragged the poor withered dragon all the way to your dorm.

Once they arrived, Lilia made sure to switch back to the form that you were familiar with.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Malleus stood uncomfortably behind him as the bat fae rapidly knocked on the old rickety wooden door.

There you appeared, disheveled and drowsy with Grim hanging off your shoulder. For the first time in weeks, Malleus' eyes fell upon your figure, and his heart hammered heavily in his chest. Lilia pushed him towards you. "Go on Malleus, I believe you wished to tell them something."

You looked up at him in anticipation, a bright smile on your face. With a trembling sigh, Malleus strode forward.

"I-I'm sorry." He dropped to his knees and bowed deeply, his head striking the ground hard. His shoulders were locked and tensed in a straight line, posture stiff and rigid.

"Malleus!" You gasped, rushing forward. Despite your hasty attempts to urge him to stand, he remained anchored to the ground like stone.

The dragon fae grabbed onto your ankles, his forehead pressed against your feet. "My treasure, I a-am so sorry."

"Oh Malleus, love, you're being a bit too dramatic. It's okay." You shushed him, stooping down to take him into your arms.

Almost immediately, he melts into your embrace, curling up against your chest. His head lay against your shoulder, an arm draped over his eyes. Apologies flowing out of his mouth in an uncommon display of vulnerability.

Sighing, you cast a glance at Lilia who only shrugged as if to say 'Well, he's your problem now.'

"I'll make it up to you." He whispers, throat burning after his numerous confession of guilt. You smiled, burying your face into his hair. "I know, Tsunotarou, I know."

" Though I must say…" You trailed off, and Malleus peered up at you, his eyes wide with curiosity. "That locket you had of me was really lovely."

Malleus coughed, his cheeks turning slightly red. "I hadn't intended for you to ever see it."

"Khee hee~ Ah yes, the locket." Lilia sniggered, grinning impishly. "Prefect, did you know he had a box of true gold specifically custom made for it?"

"Lilia."

"He was so protective of it, always growling if someone dared to touch what was his."

"Lilia, please."

"There was even an enchanted silk pillow! He would always place the box atop it. I'm quite sure both the box and the pillow were embedded with a protection spell.

"I beg of you, stop."

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas , @spadecentral , @crypticbibliophile ⤷ (want to be added?)

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst fanfic #malleus x mc #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x yuu #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia fanfic #malleus fluff #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #lilia vanrogue #diasomnia #twisted wonderland x reader #tsunotaro #malleus draconia fluff

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corroded-hellfire · 3 months

Note

Hi! I had this idea for the As you wish - series. What if reader finds her first grey hair or maybe spot the first lines on her face and panics because she thinks "Eddie was drawn to me because I was so young, what if he won't be drawn to me anymore?!"

Ah, the signs of aging. As someone who has had a line across her forehead for years now, I felt this lol. Despite what society tries to tell us though, aging is good! Never forget that.

Words: 2.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Waking up before your alarm clock used to be considered a sin to you. It’s not like you were always out partying all night in college when you were younger, it’s just the principle of the thing. How dare your body naturally wake you up just as the sun is making its first appearance over the horizon? The words “early morning” left a sour taste in your mouth, and you’d do whatever you could to get a few extra hours of sleep.

If growing up and becoming a productive member of society didn’t get your body accustomed to waking up earlier than in your teenage years, being a mom of three certainly did.

The boys are both teenagers themselves now and won’t get up for school willingly, which means you’ve had to learn a few tricks over the years. But one of those tricks was seemingly fading as time ticked by as well. Eliza used to be up before the crack of dawn, her cries or laughter beating the rooster’s crow to the punch. Now that she’s pushing four years old, she often sleeps later than you or Eddie, which means she’s not readily available to bother her brothers into a wakened state. That still leaves Eddie though, and he considers it a joy to annoy his sons awake—payback for all the years they did it to him.

But this morning you’re awake not only before your alarm, but before anyone else in the house as well. A few emerging beams of sunlight shine through the gaps in your blinds and warm the side of your face as you turn towards it. A content hum leaves your lips as you open your eyes, blinking away the bits of sleep still clinging to the corners. Your heavy head lolls to the other side and comes face to face with your sleeping husband.

It’s impossible not to smile at his open jaw dotted with scruff, just a hint of drool pooling in the corner. Telling yourself to get up out of bed and not bury your face in his chest and cuddle back into the blankets feels like a Herculean task as you gaze at his handsome face.

With a sigh, you push yourself up and stretch your arms up over your head. The bright side of being the first one up is that you can go through your morning routine in peace, you suppose.

The plush carpet is warm on your toes as you slip from bed and pad over to the en suite bathroom. A fierce yawn erupts from your mouth as you turn on the faucet to wash your face. The back of your hands rubs against tired eyes as you wait for the water to heat to an acceptable temperature. The house is quiet and still around you, giving you a sense of calm that you’re sure won’t last once the kids are awake.

A green washcloth hangs on a hook next to the mirror above your sink and you lather it with your apple blossom-scented soap before rubbing it over your face. The scratch of the cloth on your skin feels good, taking any remnants of the full night’s sleep off and preparing you for the new day.

You let the wet swatch of fabric fall back down into the sink and grab the matching towel to pat your face dry. As you hang the towel back on the hook, you lean in towards the mirror above the sink and let your eyes roam over your features. Luckily, it seems like that small breakout you had last week has finally cleared up and your chin is blemish free. Your eyes trail farther up and once they get to your forehead your hands grip the side of the sink with enough force to crack the white porcelain in half.

There is a line across your forehead.

Immediately, your hand goes up and tries to rub it away. Still there. Maybe it’s a smudge on the mirror. All your hand does is smear fingerprints across the glass surface, but the line on your face is still there.

Gently, you rub the tips of your fingers over the crease in your skin. When you can feel the indent where it used to be firm, an involuntary whimper falls from your lips. Your forefinger traces the line back and forth from the left side of your face to the right. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes and your arms drop down to your sides.

You have a wrinkle.

The ugly word has the tears spilling over your bottom lids and you squeeze your eyes shut. This is ridiculous, you try to tell yourself. It’s perfectly normal. Aging is a good thing. You force your eyes open and glare at the unwelcome addition to your face. But why does aging mean you’ll start to feel insecure about how your body changes? Wasn’t puberty enough of that bullshit?

A sharp inhale of breath and your hands fly to cover your mouth as a thought occurs to you. What is Eddie going to think? He was drawn to you because of your youth, so what now? Is he going to find this wrinkle gross? Will he find you unappealing now? Are younger, hotter girls going to turn his head?

The thoughts come on too quickly and you're flooded by a wave of panic and grief. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and you make a conscious effort not to scrunch your face up, lest you get more wrinkles.

A small sob wracks your body, and you tighten your hands over your mouth. Part of you knows this is an overreaction, that Eddie won’t care, but the irrational side of you has its claws too deep in you now to let go.

“Babe?”

Eddie’s groggy voice calls out and his footsteps approach the bathroom door. As if it will keep him from seeing you, you press your back against the bathroom wall and keep your hands firmly clutched over your mouth.

A mop of frizzy bedhead pops in the doorway and Eddie looks in the other direction before swinging his gaze around and spotting you. Instantly, he’s more alert as he takes in your body language. He comes to stand in front of you and places his hands gently on your upper arms.

“Princess, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks.

Not trusting your voice, you shake your head, hands still covering your mouth.

“What?” Eddie asks. “You’re not okay?” Gently, he pries your fingers from your lips and holds them securely in his own hands. “Hey, come on. Please talk to me.”

Try as you might to find the right words to say, nothing comes to mind. Too much is rattling around your head and the only thing that comes out of your mouth are whines as your sobs pick up. Instinctively, you step in towards Eddie and bury your face in his neck. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you close to his warm, solid frame.

“Hey…” Eddie coos as he rubs a large hand up and down your back. It’s a tone you’ve heard him use with Eliza a hundred times before when he’s trying to get her to take a breath and use her words. “Sweetheart, talk to me. Please?”

It takes a lot of your strength to pull back and wipe your eyes and nose off on your arm. The concern in Eddie’s eyes damn near sends you into another fit, but you manage to keep it together.

“I-I…” I have a wrinkle is what you plan to say. “I’m s-scared.”

Your husband’s eyebrows pinch together as he studies your face. He’ll probably spot the problem on your face on his own if he keeps looking at you like this.

“Scared? Baby, what are you scared of?”

At his question, a new round of tears does come. You try to ward them off though, shaking your head and wiping your eyes. I’m scared you’re not going to be attracted to me anymore. I’m scared you’re going to think I’m old. I’m scared I’m freaking out and don’t know how to stop it.

None of those words form on your tongue though, so with a shaky hand you reach up and point to the crease above your eyebrows. Eddie’s gaze drifts to where you’re pointing but this only seems to confuse him more.

“What is it? What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asks. When you jab repeatedly at your forehead with your finger, Eddie gently grabs your wrist and lowers your arm back down. “Angel, you’ve gotta talk to me.”

“A-A wrinkle,” you manage to squeak out just above a whisper.

Eddie frowns and looks at your forehead again. He squints his eyes and shrugs his shoulders.

“I see a faint line. Why does that scare you?”

“Because it means I-I’m old.”

Laughter is the last thing you expect to hear from your husband. But when you look up at him there’s an amused look on his face as he shakes his head.

“Babe, you’re twenty-nine. If you’re old, then I’m the damn crypt keeper.”

“M’not like when you met me,” you mumble, looking down in embarrassment.

“No, you’re not,” Eddie says plainly. “And neither am I.” When you look up at him in confusion, Eddie sighs and gently tugs you closer to him. He takes a seat on the closed toilet lid and pulls you into his lap. “Pretty girl, we’ve known each other for about a decade now. Neither of us are the same. I’ve got gray in my beard now and these crow’s feet around my eyes.”

“They’re sexy,” you’re quick to inform him.

“What makes you think I don’t think your changes are sexy?” your husband asks with a raised eyebrow.

“This isn’t sexy,” you say with a sigh as you rub your hand across your forehead.

“Is to me,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’ve got more tattoos now. You’ve given birth. Jesus hun, I’m in a different decade than I was back then. We’re not a couple in their twenties and thirties anymore—it’s twenties and forties.”

His fingers gently dig into your sides, making you squeak in laughter and squirm around in his lap.

“Until I turn thirty in a few months,” you say. Words burn at the back of your throat, and you know you shouldn’t say them. But they need to come out and make themselves known. “You’ll still want me, right? When I’m thirty? With these lines starting?”

Eddie stares at you for a moment, his doe eyes scanning your face. You see the moment something clicks in his mind.

“Wait, don’t tell me that’s what you’re scared of?”

When you still avoid looking him in the eye and remain silent, Eddie lets out a long sigh.

“There is no line or wrinkle that could make you anything less than the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Not a damn thing in this world could make me not want to be with you. I love you. Always have, always will. Wrinkles or not. Acne or not. Scars, gray hair, injuries, sickness, it doesn’t matter. You’re my girl and that’s all there is to it.”

Emotion swells within your chest and it’s difficult to keep it contained. Hoping to convey what your voice can’t, you lean forward and rest your forehead against Eddie’s.

“Actually,” Eddie adds softly, “I think wrinkles and gray hair are pretty great things. Because it means we’re growing old with each other. No one else I’d want by my side, to go through this with.”

“I’m so lucky to be your girl,” you manage in a hoarse whisper, trying to quell the tears that build up—now for a different reason.

A soft chuckle has Eddie’s breath ghosting across your lips.

“It’s absolutely me who is the lucky one, princess. I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you too—”

“Mama!”

Little hands beat on the wood of the closed bathroom door. You and your husband share a whispered laugh as you drop your head down to his shoulder.

“What’s up, sweet pea?” Eddie calls back.

The banging stops and there’s a beat of silence before your daughter replies.

“I called for Mama.”

A snort of laughter leaps out of you at Eliza’s tone. Eddie shakes his head in amusement and lets out an overdramatic sigh.

“See?” He speaks softly to you. “None of us can live without you.” The banging starts up again, a little faster this time. Eddie winces and squeezes one eye shut. “Even for a second, apparently.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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eelnoise · 8 months

Text

dawnlight

a/n: a soft continuation of this fic. we luv fluffy zoro and reader!!! c/w: nothin' it's just fluff n cuteness cuz this boy needs to be comforted!! zoro x gn!reader 🥰 🥰 now this one has a sequel!

Zoro stretches, yawning loudly as he slowly finds his way back into the waking world. With a groan, he moves just enough to feel your arm across him, chest pressed to his back and forehead lolled into the conclave between his shoulder blades. You’re still dead asleep, deep breaths falling from your slightly parted lips that ghost the flesh of his back.

Zoro would never admit it aloud, but he likes being the little spoon - the nightmare from earlier ebbing away as you cradle him in your arms. He looks down at your sleeping form, twisting his head just enough to see you curled around him, a subtle warmth blooming in his chest. He’d never even entertained the idea of such intimacy, but somehow you’d managed to sneak your way under his armor. And you fit perfectly.

His movements rouse you, a soft groan of befuddled consciousness followed by a stretch against his body comes from your small form at his side. “Good morning,” You whisper, voice rasp with sleep but a smile clear in your tone.

Zoro rolls over and reaches across you, pulling you into the crook of his arm, pressing your body against his and replying with a hum. He smiles ever so slightly as he nuzzles your forehead, careful not to jostle you about. The smile keeps up, the heartfelt emotions inside his chest beginning to radiate all over.

You grin - a small, soft, and wispy giggle meeting his ears like a melody composed just for him. These fleeting moments of peace between you both are something to be cherished; that even on this dangerous voyage well within the furthest reaches of the Grand Line can one feel true calm within the arms of another.

He rolls once more onto his back, shifting you atop his body. In this position, he’s able to fully appreciate all of you. Your beautiful hair, plush lips, soft skin seemingly glowing in the morning sun, your gentle breath tickling his bare chest, and that subtle smile painted across your face - god, it’s all too perfect. A tingle makes its way down his spine, and he’s grateful for your company. No amount of admiration or gratitude could make up for the way you make him feel.

You lie across his chest, one leg draping over his waist as you reach out to entwine your fingers with his. “Did you sleep well?” You ask quietly, eyes on him - twinkling with adoration and gazing into his very soul, cutting through his heart with an affectionately shaped knife.

He nods. “Yeah,” Your eyes, how deep they go. And your fingers, how delicate and soft they are in his hand. Zoro could find himself at this moment very easily letting your bodies stay coiled together and never let go. The knife cuts, but with it comes a pleasant warmth, like the sun’s touch on a cold winter’s day.

You murmur in reply, nuzzling your head into him with a satisfied sigh. You both lie there for a while in a comfortable and cozy silence - the gentle rock of the sea against the ship not doing much in the way of spurring your bodies from the tangle of the sheets.

The moment is almost perfect. One could sit here in eternity, just like this, enjoying the comfort and relief. But Zoro is unfortunately not a creature of patience. He slowly moves a hand in the sheets, working it up under your back and drawing you up toward his face. He softly plants a kiss just to the right of your nose and just above the corner of your mouth. His other hand goes to work and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, better exposing your neck.

His large fingertips leave clear goosebumps in their wake, and he can feel a shiver go down your spine at his touch. Zoro’s breath hitches when you respond with a tender peck of his lips to your own - a gesture that ends far too early for his liking. When you pull away, he locks you in place with a hand to your cheek, prolonging and intensifying the kiss in a wordless proclamation of his love.

Zoro holds and caresses your face, savoring every moment as your lips meet. Tongues entwine, breath deepens, and hearts begin to race. His arm slips around your body, pulling you firmly against him and into a tight embrace. For a moment, every worry, every care, every problem of this grand, vast world falls away. The hand on your back gently traces patterns into your soft flesh. This is where he belongs. With you.

There are times when words fail, and Zoro realizes that this moment is one of them. He breaks the kiss and softly places his forehead to yours and breathes in, sighing in content. With your bodies tightly pressed together, he whispers your name. And that’s all that needs to be said. This is Zoro, a man not so easily coerced into forays of affection even under normal circumstances. In this moment, he’s finally free to truly express himself in his own unique way, the love that fills the pit of his stomach is more powerful than any blade he’s wielded.

You can’t help but melt into his touch. You feel safe with him. Whole. Private moments like this are rare, most nights sleeping next to his empty spot while he’s on night watch and stirring just enough to welcome him into your open arms when he slips into bed in the early hours of the morning. Dawn peers through the cabin, drenching it in the sun’s warm light and catching onto Zoro’s hair beautifully. You consider him for a few seconds, admiring him as if looking upon a work of art.

With the warmth of the sun against your body and his embrace surrounding it, you feel truly at peace. It’s the most calm and serene thing you can seek out on this ship - the serenity always drawing you to him and him to you, even if the most you get outside of the confines of the cabin is his head in your lap while he naps. His way of loving you in the most subtle of gestures is something you had to get used to, but now find yourself unable to live without. He gives you the kind of warmth that not even fire can match, and with no words spoken, you look deep into his eyes once more. A smile paints its way onto your cheeks, and as far as you’re concerned you need nothing else in this life but to wake up by Zoro’s side each morning, to be held by him every night, and to be with him for every day that comes after this.

This intimacy, these feelings for you… it had taken a long time for him to allow them. And now, he feels no need to protect himself, his guard is down with you in his arms, relaxing on the mattress. His arms and legs encase you, body pressing against yours. Zoro softly kisses various parts of your neck and face, working his way up to your ear.

“Let’s sleep in.” He whispers, breath tickling your neck. “Not ready to let you go yet.”

#one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #opla zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro fluff #reader fluff #roronoa zoro x you #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x y/n

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yanderenightmare · 1 year

Note

literally anything with nasty nasty nasty Shigaraki and Dabi fucking anything they can get ahold of PLEEASE

BNHA ! THIRST

SHIGARAKI x darling x DABI

TW: NSFW, anal, oral, virgin reader, degradation, bondage, misogyny, double-penetration, a couple of empty death-threats, they’re both really mean and nasty in this

Just thinking about Dabi and Shiggy fighting over which hole is better…

Both agree that it depends on the bitch.

For example, if she’s feisty or prissy – Shigaraki tends to go for a nice deep ass-fuck to put her in her place. Because nothing breaks a bitch faster than breaking in her tightest hole – and taking an ass is like telling a stupid slut she belongs to him. Because bending a whore over makes her thoroughly understand, without any room to disagree, that whatever she was, whatever she might have been before becoming his, now means nothing – because now she’s his filthy fucktoy– and his fucktoys live to please him – and a fucktoy’s own pleasure means nothing.

He enjoys seeing her fingers sprout before curling in on themselves, wrists wringing in their bonds, forming firm fists splitting her palms on her nails where she digs them in deep – while he warms himself with that tight hole that tries hard to keep him out, only to tense up and grip him even tighter when he starts to pull out.

He’ll look at her pretty face as it twists in pain and panting, biting the pillow as he sinks inside with a smile on his face. Mounting her while she has her ass raised for a pounding and her head down in a bow with her wrists tied to each ankle. Slapping his heavy ball sack against her ignored cunt as it begins to weep for some attention.

He'll shove in deeper for every thrust as though he’s blowing out a tunnel one heavy dig at a time until he’s all the way through. Letting drool fall from his tongue to where he watches himself disappear, fucking his own spit inside with a grunt – speeding up with another groan at the sight of her ass wiggling when smacking brutally against his hips, hitting her fast and hard from behind while his hands bury into the plush domes with only one pinky raised.

If she mouths off, he’ll place a foot on her face and stomp her down with a series of slaps to her ass until all she can mouth is but pretty pitiful pleas, muffled into the mattress, while her hole starts to squelch – fucked open and surrendering to his size.

He'll flip her over then – have her on her back missionary style. Watching her soaking cunt beg for some love – splitting a grin while granting none of it other than a mean slap to make her seize up and squeeze him even harder. He’ll watch her titties bounce with each deep thrust while she wears his hand like a collar – enjoying how that once defiant look turns to chagrin before further devolving into true humility – watching her tongue loll out as she pants like a bitch in heat for him – looking a happy mess getting fucked hard up her ass.

A bitch becomes submissive fast when he leaves their butt gaping. After taking him balls-deep and raw, emptying his thick load inside her and leaving it to trickle out the slowly closing cavity – going cold as it drips down to those puffy glossy pussylips, left stinging in the chilly air, welted by the cruel slaps given it by his hand.

She goes especially meek and sweet for him if he yanks her hair and fucks her face afterward – making her gluck around the fatness while steadily bumping against the back of her throat – telling her to lick up all the sticky cum and swallow, slapping her face with its heavy weight while it slowly grows limp in satisfaction.

A slut is best tamed when left unable to walk – when made to crawl on all fours – with an ass marred and marked by tough handprints and spotted rings where he’s bitten into it to make her scream.

That’s Shiggy's point of view, at least.

But Dabi disagrees…

He thinks there’s no better way to dominate a brat than by making her twitch with pleasure in spite of herself – by making her soak his cock with shame while pretty tears run down bloated cheeks as she pitiful shakes her head in whines and choked moans – aimlessly trying to deny she likes it despite kissing his fat cock with flutters and milking him tight for cum – visibly thankful to be treated like a sweet and silly breeding-toy.

Anyone can fuck a bitch, but not many can make her like it. Because making a silly slut enjoy it is true domination.

An art form Dabi has thoroughly mastered.

He’ll laugh at her in soft demeaning chuckles, keenly watching her sink guilty teeth into her bottom lip with thighs quaking as he roughly fans through her slit with gritty fingertips, flicking over her clit until she bursts and wets the sheets – ripping that moan so sweetly wet with defeat from her when sheathing himself back inside her again, now into walls tensed up with orgasm, somehow even deeper than before – tired from keeping him out – stormed into surrender, allowing him to sink all the way inside, nudging tight and right against her womb.

A slut is so cute like that. After he’s proved that she’s but a needy carnal thing in desperate need of some good fucking. When he’s rubbed her clit for so long, she’s gone numb and tingly – with hooded eyes blinking up at him so softly, resting sweetly in the palm of his hand while he slowly fucks into the puff of her wet warmth suckling him in all manners of gratitude.

That’s a housebroken pet in Dabi’s definition – a sweet thing who’s thankful for what he gives her – one who’s so blissful, overrun with pleasure, she moans out an ever so adorable thank you despite having her wrists tied tight behind her back – one who willingly drops her jaw open to receive his spit with a moan, swallowing so sweetly before opening her mouth up again. Pink love hearts pumping in her eyes.

A good submissive thing who prettily kneels at his feet, tongue rolled all the way out like a welcome mat, hungry for the cum he pours onto it – preciously sucking his cockhead clean afterward, kissing it with spit-slicken lips sticking to it in glistering bridges.

He enjoys that sweetly compliant look on a cute slut’s face – eyes doe-like and sparkling, cheeks swelled with the dew of sweat, tears, and cum – soothing words of devotion on her plump and pretty lips that kiss on his scars.

It’s the type of shit that makes him feel complete.

Shigaraki can agree with him on that part.

It’s nice to get a little comfort, but only if the tiny thing is cute enough. If she flinches in fear with shy eyes fluttering – anxious to even look up at him. If she spreads her legs and shows him her pretty clitty on nothing more but his say-so, offering herself in hopes he’ll be kind.

He enjoys driving a scaredy-cat crybaby like that over the edge – making her go cross-eyed and whiney, trembling beneath him with pretty tits strutting out tender and sore, shaking as he forces her over the brink yet again – splitting her mind apart the same way her cunt stretches over his fat veins.

Licking the tear stains off her cheeks with his teeth and tongue as he makes her hop like a bunny in his lap, whispering hotly upon the shell of her ear that he’ll turn her pretty body into a sorry pile of dust if she doesn’t hop a little faster and moan a little loader for him – wrapping both arms around her waist, drumming dry fingertips upon her hips in ever so ticklish threats while feeling her cunny clench him harder in return.

He enjoys watching his fingers bring a girl to her end in different ways than the usual one. Rubbing into her clit to make her pout and buck her hips or twisting a little nipple to see her gasp and whine. Putting his digits down her throat to shut her up, making her suck on them, worship them in hopes he won’t use them to hurt her.

Dabi likes doing that too – to make little threats with heated fingertips stroking over terribly sensitive skin, whispering at her softly that he’ll burn some notches into her if she does anything but be a sweet obedient cock-sleave for him. He’ll smile, kiss her a bit once she starts bleating – chanting in warm ticklish breaths, warning her of how it’s way worse than having a cigarette put out on her skin and that it’ll leave a mark that won't ever quite heal – so she should really do her best to make him happy before his patience runs thin.

They both love how a girl begs – how she clings around his neck and rubs herself into him for comfort, promising him that she’ll do whatever he says.

But some sluts need no threats to play nice. Some sluts need no convincing. Especially dumb ones. Those who walk around in wet panties and giggle at the sight of a jumping cock. Those masochistic braindead things who happily accept a feral night of being treated like nothing but a blow-up doll.

They’ll enjoy a silly slut with no sense of self-worth like that every now and again, but both agree it becomes a little tedious after a while.

After all, it’s most fun when there’s a little fight in her. Like those bitches and brats who glare at them with defiant eyes – those they can really enjoy forcing onto their knees.

Oh- that and virgins…

Not that a virgin has so much fight in her per se, but she’s just so cutely unwilling and shy that it becomes fun to watch her struggle – so adorable, pleading with them as though they give a shit that she’s been saving herself for someone special. Asking them to be gentle, to give her a moment, to wait.

It’s the way she seizes up and ripples around the stretch – unsure whether she likes it or not and further unsure if she should be enjoying it even though it hurts a little. How she preciously begs them to use a condom, shaking her head with a pout when feeling that ruining warmth fill her up for the first time. Pitifully whimpering all cute as they fuck their cum into her.

And further flicking her clit to make her swell up on the inside before gushing on them. Shigaraki grins like none other when making an innocent cutie cum on his cock as he drives it up raw, buried deep between her soft thighs with her precious moaning face squeezed tight between four fingers – her own panties stuffed in her mouth, keeping her soft, mewing for him while sucking on her own sweetness as she soaks his cock with virgin juices so sweet and luscious – trembling on him with delightful orgasmic shivers that pleasure his cock so snug.

But it’s not only her cunt that deserves a good ruining… A virgin deserves cum in all her holes on her first time – that’s why they tag-team. Sweet and pretty virgins who barely even know how to touch themselves.

Sweet and pretty virgins like you.

You don’t want anything inside you, but silly little virgins like you don’t have a choice. Their meat is going inside you every which way, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them. They’re going in, and they’re going in sweet and deep in all your tight holes to fill you up with thick heavy cream until you can’t remember a feeling unlike it – until you don’t know anything but what their sweetly salty acid tastes like.

“She sweet?” Dabi asks, holding a stitched hand in your hair – woven between your soft locks as he shoves his cock in and out of your open and struggling mouth – smiling some at how your tongue curls, unsure of where to place itself when his length takes up all the space.

“Like ripe fruit,” Shigaraki answers in a muffled groan, his mouth on your slit, sliding his tongue through the folds in ticklish kitten licks with two of his fingers kneading knuckle-deep in your pussy, twisting about themselves to explore your squishy wet insides while you worm beneath him – hips shaking at the foreign intrusion as you whimper around the thickness in your mouth.

“You’re terrible at this….” Dabi chuckles, fingering your hair to hold you steady, fucking into the pocket of your cheek, watching it bulge from the inside out – his other hand twisting and pulling on your chest, rubbing your poor nipple into a firm nub between rough fingertips. “Don’t worry your pretty head, though- I’ll teach you to be a good cum-swallowing slut in no time~”

Shigaraki curls his digits – you moan, and they laugh – and Dabi shoves in deeper until you scream for air around him while Shigaraki holds your budding clit between lips and teeth, softly gnawing on it to make you squirm – and then his fingers disappear, dripping with slick, leaving your hole fluttering on something that seems to rivet your entire body – leaving you shivering in soft numb fuzzy warmth.

And then his fingers come back, only now prodding your other hole – his mouth chuckling hot breaths on your drippy cunt, enjoying the way you shake in the aftershocks while he skewers one long finger inside your tight ass. Biting his lip at how your firmness clenches around him in a pulse – his cock rising with seeking ambition, impatiently awaiting the feel of that tautness on himself.

You whine as he starts messaging your insides, gasping with a yelp when another finger joins the first. You feel the warmth of his spit smear your cheeks before being fucked into you, squishy with squelches, while you loosen up and start accepting the way he aims to slide them in and out – pounding the sore soft hole until it simply gapes open.

“There you go, good anal-slut~ open up wide for me~” Shigaraki teases, giving your hip a slap. Burying his hands in your plush domes, he spreads you wide and takes a dive with his tongue first – eagerly slurping both your stretched holes, from your dripping pussy over your taint to mouth kisses to your puckering butthole – both places loose and ready for their thick meat. “It’s time.”

Dabi grins, popping his cockhead from the corner of your mouth – slapping the spit-dripping heaviness on your face. “You ready to lose your purity, little slut?” He taunts, jerking his meat against the softness of your dewy face. “I’m gonna fill your little virgin womb up with my filthy cum until you start to bulge.”

You cry at the promise in his threat while Shigaraki slides his cock between your asscheeks, fucking the plush crack with fingers curling around the small of your waist – digging his fingertips into you with greed, only his pinkies raised while he pulls you closer.

Dabi holds you at the hips, tugging you onto his lap – his wet cock slicking your belly while your tits strut forth, pretty and perky above him – one of Shigaraki's hands slithers about your waist to grope one of them, making you gasp before you choke on the sound – forced down on both cocks breaking in your holes, stretching you so bad tears immediately well, coming pouring down in fat streams.

“Please- ah- please.” You wince, but none of them listen.

Shigaraki grabs the rope that ties your wrists together at the small of your back and pushes you down until your face squishes against Dabi’s chest, where he begins to patronize you in soft coos and shushes.

“Don’t fuss, baby virgin.” He soothes in a softly dark murmur, feeling you clench – gripping the veins of his cock while he forces himself in deeper. “Milk me for cum like a grateful slut, and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

You shudder at the stretch, feeling close to tearing – while Shigaraki sinks inch by inch inside your narrow butt with a hand holding you down, keeping you bent over with your ass up to receive him. He hisses at how you clutch him in a chokehold, trying so hard to keep him out only to take him balls-deep with his heavy ballsack smudged tight against the puff of your pussy where Dabi soon has himself swallowed down to the hilt.

You whine openmouthed and loudly once Shigaraki starts to drag himself out again, holding onto his cock tightly in fluttering spasms. “You’re moaning like a real anal-slut now~ happy for a big cock in your ass~” He laughs, lolling only the tip of himself inside your open hole – dipping inside it in shallow fucks to make you wider.

Gleefully watching your face twist in pain, with spit and tears wetting your mouth, drooling onto Dabi’s chest as he keeps himself nice and warm, stored all the way up to your cervix – his cockhead giving it a tight and painful kiss, nudging against it in a way it feels as though he might break through into your stomach – his long cock so big it has to bend inside your cunt for all of it to fit, making your back want to arch – though kept in a pretty slope by the hand pushing you down flat while they stretch and fuck your holes with sadistic smiles glistening on their sharp teeth.

You go numb in pain after some time, after your butt starts to gape and accepts the fat cock shoved inside it with a gushy squelch – wet with Shigaraki’s spit and the juice pouring from your cunt being fucked nice and tight where Dabi never fully pulls out more than halfway before fitting himself deep again – more enjoying the way your walls squeeze him soft and tight like a loving hug more than the motion.

Besides, the friction of feeling Shigaraki pound the other hole on the opposite side of your walls and the way it makes you tense and seize up is enough to soothe the ache in his balls.

He puts his hands around your head and holds you where you lay, sniffling against his chest, giving your temple a kiss along with a couple of sweet nothings whispered gently at your face. “You’re so soft now… taking it so good~” He pets your head in slow strokes in contrast to the heavy hitting your poor ass receives from behind. Hammered deep and raw and unrelenting. “Good sluts like you deserve your reward….” He coos, and you feel Shigaraki’s hand slither to rest on your stomach, messaging tight and greedy circles into the place where the two of them bulge inside you.

“My anal pet is gonna get her reward right here real soon~” He singsongs. “Warm and thick right in your little belly.”

tip-jar: Kofi

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

Text

I've been dreaming of the Ruler of the Abyss.

Kneel to the Thorn Fairy, who shall make manifest one’s dreams—the wishes made by the heart.

He promises happy endings for all. Woe to those who doubt and defy his vision.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Alone.

He has always been alone.

But alone he is no longer—not when he is in his castle, surrounded by hordes of his people. He will never be alone again. No one will, all thanks to his efforts.

Never, never, never.

Malleus easily traverses the thorn-crusted lounge, floating across them like a specter. The bodies of school staff and fellow students lie limp in chairs and couches. Eyes closed, chests rising and falling rhythmically.

As he passes, he runs a hand along their scalps. Brushing their hair, patting their heads. Tender touches wishing them well.

Here is a king's domain, and here are his subjects. He, the dragon guarding his trove of invaluable treasures.

Malleus turns to face his captive audience, arms spread out toward them. “Today is something of a special occasion: Night Raven College’s Founding. I do believe this warrants a celebration—and, of course, all are invited to the festivities.”

A wave of magic washes over the room. Conical party hats manifest on each person's head, decorations appearing from thin air. Banners drape across the walls, streamers spill from black-clothed tables laden with food, and balloons tuck into the corners, safe from the needle-like thorns.

He projects applause, stunned oohs and aahs. Here, he is not a monster, but fellow man.

"Hmm, we're still missing something." Malleus strokes his chin, deep in thought. He snaps his fingers. "Ah, that's it! Music. It's not a proper party without any music."

With the wave of his hand, he summons a series of floating instruments. Bass, cello, viola, violin, harp, each bathed in an eerie green glow. They start playing by themselves, as if being handled by skillful, invisible hands.

Soft orchestral song fills the venue.

The guests rise, puppeted by the strings of his magic. Thorns on the floor retreat, allowing his peers to spill over onto the area repurposed for dance. Heads loll over--Malleus frowns and fixes them.

"There we are."

A glittering assemblage.

He smoothly conducts the bodies into neat pairs.

A waltz, he thinks, is ideal. It is also one of the few forms of dance he is familiar with. A waltz it shall be.

Palms link, fingers intertwine. Hands upon shoulders and upon backs. And then they are set to the hypnotic swing of the music, slow and sweet and intoxicating, like a steady drip of honey into one's mouth.

Malleus threads past the avid dancers and to the one person that has not been matched. The little bat who had almost flown away, far out of his grasp.

"Lilia," Malleus breathes raptly, "look at how happy everyone is. No one was left out. No one was forgotten. No one has to be alone anymore."

With this gift... my blessing... I've protected their smiles.

The duty of any Draconia.

He's proud--elated--but Lilia, alas, does not share the sentiment. Instead, the ancient fae wears a placid expression, eyes sewn shut. The same as all the other guests.

Malleus chuckles. No one hears it but himself.

"How exciting your dream must be. Action and adventure, at the best of your strength... I'm afraid this humble gathering cannot compare."

He’s sure Lilia would agree with him, were he awake.

“Never mind that," Malleus says, dispelling the thought. No more what ifs, only there ares. "Would you care for food? You'll need to keep your energy up for the celebration--it just may last all night."

He beckons with a finger, and a platter with a large cake hovers over. It is an extravagant seven layers, each a different flavor. Details are piped on in buttercream icing, invoking the image of each dormitory. A chocolate raven, wings open and prepared for flight, crowns the dessert.

A cake knife slides into Lilia's hand. His fingers slowly closer around the handle. With Malleus's guidance, he cuts into the topmost layer--Diasomnia--of the cake.

Something thick, red, and sticky leaks from the insides. The knife is coated as it is pulled back, freeing a slice. The violet crumb is fine, the frosting neon green with a dark chocolate drip.

Devilishly decadent.

"Come, you must try this," Malleus insists, stabbing a fork into the cake. He stuffs the bite into Lilia's mouth--but it doesn't stay, just rolls out and lands with a squishy splat on the ground.

Malleus eagerly waits for Lilia to beam at him, to praise him for its deliciousness.

It never comes.

Malleus laughs as though Lilia has responded as he imagines him to. He's drunk with delirium.

The strings abruptly screech, the dancers ceasing in their revelry.

He lets the unfinished slice fall. The plate shatters, reflecting one hundred Malleuses, one hundred Lilias. So many realities, and yet this is the one he has been dealt.

He guides the corners of Lilia's mouth upward, forcing a smile.

"Happy Night Raven College Founding Day," Malleus whispers, "and may you all have the sweetest of slumbers."

To his guests, to Lilia, to himself. And to the world that will soon be joining them in this delightful, never-ending dream.

Raising a hand, he unleashes fireworks from his palm. They explode in wild shapes and colors, emitting warmth and dazzling lights. The display is beautiful but fleeting--long shadows running along the walls before they blip out of existence and return to the darkness.

Every dream is like a firework, he surmises. A fiery flower frozen in time at the height of its bloom. They shall never wither nor fade.

Malleus reclines into his seat--a spiked and scaled throne, mounted high above the party venue. A lone king, untouchable.

Seated upon a mountain of lies, he looks out at his twisted kingdom. It’s a scene of his own creation, props lovingly places and toys carefully posed, acting out situations in his head.

The average school day at Night Raven College: students bickering, teachers watching over them. They see him, smile and wave. Talk with him, invite him.

Stay with him.

A loop playing, forever and ever.

Malleus sighs contentedly.

This is his happily ever after—from now until the end of eternity.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Malleus Draconia #twst anni #twisted wonderland anniversary #twst anniversary #twisted wonderland anni #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #I've been dreaming...#book 7 spoilers #twst countdown #twisted wonderland countdown #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #Lilia Vanrouge

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mysicklove · 10 months

Text

Pairings: Drunk! Bachira x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Just a silly little fic where reader has to take care of her lovely, very intoxicated (and horny) bf

A/N: Very self-indulgent. I had a lot of fun writing this, even if its a little pointless and I have little ppl reading my bllk stuff

Bachira is a lightweight. Sure the muscles he gained from the years of soccer helped him just a little, but other than that, after three drinks he is a goner. Some nights he cries about everything he sees, others he's laughing till he physically can't anymore. You'll never know what you'll get, but either way, he has to be watched 24/7.

And of course, his friends like to use this against him. In a couple of days it is his birthday, so the boys took him out drinking to celebrate. You didn't mind, it's not like your boyfriend would ever do anything too bad while intoxicated. Besides, you threatened Isagi enough to watch over him.

Of course, the knocking on your apartment door did not sound like a good sign. Nor Isagis slightly slurred, "Y/N! Open up!"

You sigh, and stand up from your spot on the couch to hear Kunigamis gruff, "Dude be nice!"

"Please open up?"

"We are at Y/Ns house? Woaahhhhh!"

You open the door to see Kunigami, Isagi, and of course your boyfriend. He is being held up by the two, his head lolled to the side and a lazy grin on his face.

You raise your eyebrows at Isagi in particular. He knew how easily Bachira gets drunk. "Really?"

"Hey don't look at me! Kunigami was the one who gave him shots!"

Your mouth flies open and you turn to the orange-haired man. "You gave him shots? Are in insane? He gets tipsy off a sip of alcohol!"

"Y/NNNNN," Bachira whines, trying to wave at you from the hands on the two's shoulders. You half-heartedly wave back, looking back to the other two for an explanation.

Kunigami leans forward to get a look at Isagi. "How was I know he was a lightweight?"

Isagi points a thumb at you. "He was crying about how he missed her after two drinks!"

Before Kunigami could argue, Bachira tries to reach out for you, and goes toppling forward. All three of you guys catch him, your hand on his chest to try and steady him. "You caught me!" He giggles to you, smiling as his forehead bumps yours.

"Yeah no, we caught you. Y/N, do you think you can handle him?" Isagi says glancing at you, hoping you aren't too mad.

You sigh, and manage to wrap an arm around your shoulder. He leans his head onto your shoulder, trying to get as close to you as possible. He was so clingy when drunk. "Yeah yeah. I'm fine. He isn't too heavy."

The boys both sigh in relief and help pass him on to you. You turn around and wave them goodbye. They nod and apologize before you shut the door. You hear Kunigami mumble something about how this trip was sobering him up.

"Let's get you to clean up and to bed, hmm?" You sigh, rubbing his hair affectionately and beginning to drag him to the bathroom. It was harder than you thought, considering he was basically putting all his weight on you, and cuddling up to you.

"I had fun tonight!"

"Yeah?" You respond, maneuvering him to sit on the closed toilet seat. He nods his head, it's slow and wobbly, but cute.

"But I—But then I was like.....Like where is Y/N? I miss Y/N." Both of his hands are planted in between his slightly spread legs, and he's swaying from side to side. "And they were getting mad at me!"

An amused smile pulls at your face as you open the cupboard and pull out a soft light blue headband. "What did they say?" You say, placing the headband over his face, and then back up again to remove his bangs from his face.

He touches the headband, while his eyebrows slightly furrow. "Hmmmm...They said—Oh! They said I was being dramatic! And I was soooooo confused. Because I am not dramatic, Isagi is the dramatic one!"

You bark a small laugh as you use a wet rag to damp his face with water. "I like your laugh," He mumbles, head falling forward onto your stomach. You prop him back up and he pouts at you but doesn't say anything.

You grab the face wash and foam it up, before turning back to him and spreading it on his face. He blinks up at you and smiles at the proximinity. "You are so pretty, Y/N"

"Thanks, Meguru. Can you close your eyes for me? I don't want to get soap in them." He obeys with a hum and begins to sway again, but this time it seems more purposeful as if he was just happy to be there.

'Y'know, I think I like you. Like really really really like you," He chirps, leaning into your touch, and allowing his face to get massaged by the soap.

You laugh at him, a grin plastered on your face. "Weird...Cause I happen to really really really like you too." His eyes fly open with his smile. "Close them."

"Oooooh so demanding. I like that too."

You ignore him, instead grabbing the washcloth and beginning to remove the soap from his face. "So I was thinking....." He opens his eyes when he feels you dab at his forehead.

You can tell he is looking at you to prompt him. "Yeah?"

"Wellllllllll, I think tonight. Well actually! And tomorrow and after tomorrow and the day after—"

"Meguru," You warn, cutting off his ramblings.

He giggles at you. "We should have sex!"

You pull off his headband and set it back away, trying to fight back the smile. "You are a horny drunk. It's not happening tonight, that's for sure."

He lets out a loud dramatic whine and stands up, wobbling over to you. "But whyyyyy. It's my birthday! And I am not drunk!"

You watch him stumble over his feet and raise an eyebrow. Before he could fall you grab at his side and lead him back down to the toilet. You hand him a glass of water. "Drink."

He takes a couple gulps of water under your watchful gaze, before cringing from the lack of air, and slamming it back on the counter. He immediately goes back to the conversation before. "Whyyyyyy. But I like—No love you! This is what people who are dating do!"

"Because you are drunk. Your breath smells like straight alcohol. And your birthday is not for another two days, egoist."

"I am going to brush my teeth. And then—You!" He jabs a finger in your face. "Will meet me!" Finger flips around to point at himself. "In the bed in five minutes. Where we!" He rotates the finger back and forth between the two of you. "Will make love."

You nod at him, patting his head in a teasing way. "Lets work on the first task. And I will think about it."

He seems to like this answer, eyes lighting up. "Really?"

"Sure," You say, knowing its definitely not happening. You grab his toothbrush and lather it with toothpaste.

"Oh my—I just remembered something."

"Hmm?" You mumble, putting water on the bristles.

"I got hit on at the bar!" He giggles, looking up at you with a grin.

You narrow your eyes and cock your head to the side. It's not like you were worried about it, but still, it was not something to hear about it. "She said—Wait. What did she say? Oh! Oh! She said I was "totes adorbs" Isn't that funny, Y/N? She was a foreigner!"

You didn't think it was too funny. You hand him the toothbrush, but he doesn't take notice to it, still immersed in the story. "But hey! Guess what."

"What?"

"I said I was married. And coming back home to my wife. My wife as in you! You are my wife. Er-um, pretend wife, who will be my real wife soon!" He rambles on, leaning forward toward you to hopefully coax out some approval.

You indulge him, smiling at him. "Good job, my pretend husband," You tease, ruffling up his hair gently. "Now, brush your teeth."

He nods, plunging the toothbrush into his mouth and getting to work. You lead him to the sink and he spits it out and turns to you with approval. You nod at him, and he gives himself a thumbs up in the mirror.

ust when you are about to lead him out of the bathroom, you watch a frown begin to form. Not a good sign. The waterworks were coming. "I missed you so much," He whines gripping onto your shirt, as tears begin to prick at his eyes.

"Wow, Meguru. You really are drunk. C'mon, let's get you to bed," You sigh, hoisting him up and helping him toward the bedroom.

He sniffles at you, leaning into your neck. "Did you not miss me?"

"I missed you desperately," You tease, smiling at him and wiping away the dramatic crocodile tears.

He seems to like this answer, nodding to himself. "Good. Cause I missed you."

"I know, love."

"A lot. I was so so sad." You cover your mouth to hold back the laugh. You didn't want to encourage him even more or make him cry again. "But don't worry! I am happy again!"

"I'm glad." You say as you begin to undress him.

"Woah. Woah. Woah. You said—You said! We weren't doing it tonight. But look at you." You glance up at him in amusement and then tug his sleep shirt on. Once he realizes it, he pouts and looks away.

Then you pull up the covers for him and lead him into bed. He more like trips into the sheets, but you throw a pillow on him, not worried about it.

Finally, you get on your side and tuck yourself in next to him. "Goodnight Meguru, let's hope the hangover isn't too bad."

"I really want to have sex," He turns to you, blinking at you in the dark.

You sigh, pushing a pillow in front of his face. "Maybe tomorrow, you drunk. Goodnight Meguru."

He groans one last time, and you hear him mumble, "Worst birthday gift ever." into the pillow. He falls asleep in less than thirty seconds.

#mello.writes #bachira x reader #bachira x you #bachira meguru #x reader #reader insert #bllk bachira #bachira fluff #meguru bachira x reader #bllk x reader #bachira meguru x reader #fem reader #fem! reader #bachira fanfic #meguru fluff #bllk fluff #bllk x you

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messylustt · 10 months

Text

travelling companion — leon kennedy. longer name. being stuck in chains with leon. for a visual aid at marker 1:50.

your head is slightly lolling from the injection, eyes blurring into consciousness as you spot a blonde haired man opposite you. with brows furrowed, and lips parted you take in his dirty leather jacket, and matching cuffed wrists. you look up at your own, the situation finally sinking in.

“haven’t seen you around.” the man speaks, his voice a fraction hoarse and low, redirecting your gaze, as your throat feels dry all of sudden. his eyes are scanning you, as if he’s trailed your body before. he must have woken up before you. your legs feel weak, but you straighten your back, the metal chains clinking together.

“i’m not exactly a resident on this island.” you reply, shifting your gaze to his lingering cuts, and then down his body, taking note of his well equipped clothes. “and you don’t seem to be either.”

“what gave it away? the fact that i’m not trying to get you to join a cult or by the way that my hands are chained?” his gaze is lazy, but focused, his muscles tensed and clearly ready for anything and more. “i was gonna say your clothes, but yeah, that too, i guess.” you reply, the smallest of relieved smiles edging your lips. so this one wasn’t crazy. a rarity on this island.

the man’s stance and gaze has stayed wary, almost expecting you to reach over and stab him. his mistrust in you is valid, and something you seem to possess too. “though now isn’t probably the best time to make conversation, but what brings you here of all places?” he asks, experimentally tugging on the chains. you get pulled forward slightly, your arms raising higher. you seem to both realise as you look up at the ceiling, to see how your restraints are connected, one chain looped around a rolling hook.

“no harm in making conversation.” you mutter, you now tugging on the restraints, seeing sprinkles of dust fall off the ceiling. “i wouldn’t exactly call this a charming getaway spot.” he mutters, wrapping his hand around the chain fluidly, both your gazes still eyeing the rolling hook.

you slightly chuckle at that, despite the raw rubbing on your wrists. “then why are you here?” you reply, finally shifting your gaze back to him. he copies, meeting your eyes. “is it petty to say ‘i asked first’?”

“a little.” you reply, licking at your dry lips. “but i think considering our circumstance, ‘petty’ should get a free pass.” you slightly smile, though weak, still a smile. “i’m here…looking for someone.” the blonde man almost nods in understanding. “i think that’s the only reason someone would come here.” he replies, just as you both hear the scratching sound of shoes on rock. both whipping your heads to the door, an anticipating silence fills the rather dank underground room.

you stance grows instantly ready, facing the door as much as you can as it slowly creaks open. a follower. that’s who walks through the door, hood up and veined, grey skin partially on show, making your teeth clench together. “hey.” the blonde man speaks harshly, eyes trained. “where the hell did you put my stuff?”

“this child will be blessed soon.” the infected mutters more so to himself, before repeating it a few times, almost in a prayer. then before you can react he’s grabbed you, disgusting hand by your neck. but then you’re getting tugged forward, arms raising above your head as you come into a few inches of the blonde haired man.

your breath gets caught in your throat, your gaze looking down to the fellow unifected’s hands, wound tight around the chain. he had pulled you. away from the follower, and towards him. you can feel his heavy breath against your skin, as his eyes stay locked on the infected being, shooting daggers, that you were wish were real. “thanks.” you mutter quickly, as you feel the being approaching you. your leg kicks out behind you, landing in his guts, as he’s forced to stumble back.

“if we get this chain off that hook we can use it.” your now…ally you could say quickly speaks, as he loosens the grip on the metal, letting your arms drop. use it. as a weapon. at this point it was your best chance. you both grip the chains, yanking hard as the sound of clinking and grinding fill the room. you can spot the follower standing, an arm forming into something oozing and fleshy as it shoots out towards you, your feet stumbling back. the rolling hook is loosening, one more harsh tug and you end up free. well, as free as you can be, considering your still bound wrists.

the blonde haired man swiftly and rather accurately wraps the chain around the approaching being’s neck. you quickly follow, aiding him by pulling tight against your end of the chain. in what feels like a mix of agonising long moments and quick breathless ones, the man’s knee bends down against the chain, the metal successfully snapping the followers neck. you’re both breathing hard, adrenaline coursing through you both. “shit.” you mutter, now feeling the heavy weight of the chains. you watch as the blonde haired man grabs at the follower, finally pulling out a key. “who are you looking for?” you ask.

his precision showed skill. which meant training. training most likely meant an agent of some sort. he looks up, undoing his wrists binds, before standing, hands free and walking over to you. “a girl.” he says, grabbing the end of the chain and tugging you forward. you make sure not to stumble into his chest as you dig your shoes into the dirt. “a girl…you were assigned to?” you inquire. his hold is still on the chains as he meets your gaze.

he pulls you a fraction closer. “who are you?” now his mistrust is coming to play. his hesitance in unlocking your chains clear. “y/n.” you reply, staring back. you can see a question of ‘who do you work for’ in his eyes. “just…y/n.” he let’s his tongue graze the roof of his mouth as he keeps his gaze on you, his hands slightly moving to now grasp your wrists.

“can i get your name?” your voice holds a steadiness that is making the key in his hand draw closer to letting you free. he grabs your chin suddenly, making you tense as he tilts your head to the side, brushing your hair away he looks at your ears, before doing the same to the other. ear pieces. he was looking for a form of communication. “leon.” he finally says, seeing none, and clicking the key in place, allowing the chains to drop to the floor.

“and you wouldn’t just…be leon, right?” you ask, rubbing at your red wrists. he pauses, gazing towards the door, as he spots his bags and items through the walls crack, before glancing back to you. “you travelling alone?” he asks. “is that an offer, agent?” you reply. you can spot the smallest, the smallest, of smiles edging his lips, his expression bordering amusement. “if you’re that observant, then you might come in handy at some point…’just y/n’.”

“that’s a bit petty.” you reply, your sarcasm clear. his answer has his own mouth twitching up. “which means i get a free pass.”

#. ( pretty agent mark )#like i was giggling in the cutscene #leon kennedy #leon #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon scott kennedy #re4 #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #the leon effect

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mint-yooxgi · 10 months

Text

Desperation - San X Reader

Genre: Mature, Smut

Pairing: Sub!San X Dom!Reader

Words: 1,025

Warnings: Implied established relationship, Dom/Sub themes, Mistress Kink, Pegging, Asphyxiation, Degradation (Slut & Whore used once each), Overstimulation, Marking/Biting (Male rec.), Possession Kink, Slight Dacryphilia, San gets a bit Manhandled :)

A/n: Just a little drabble I thought (thot) of before bed :)

“Who do you belong to?” The words are but a low growl on your lips as you tug harshly on his hair.

“You, Mistress.” A loud moan escapes San’s lips as he meets your every thrust.

Desperately, he grips the sheets beneath him. The way your strap feels buried in his tight little hole, your hips meeting his ass as you set a ruthless pace has his eyes watering. Never before has he felt such overwhelming pleasure course through his veins, and it’s all because of you.

What you do to him.

What you’re doing to him.

“Fuck- please, Mistress,” he nearly chokes on a sob, not quite sure what he’s begging for right now.

Already, you two have been going at it for hours, his thighs trembling and cock twitching with yet another release that creeps closer with every passing second.

“Please.” He gasps.

“Please, what, Baby Boy?” You purposely slow your hips, rolling them into his ass as he begins to babble incoherently.

He hiccups, reaching behind him blindly in attempts to get you to start moving again.

“Ah-ah,” you tut. “Remember who’s in control here.”

A sharp thrust is given to emphasize your point, his whole body jerking forward at the impact.

His back muscles tense, barely steadying himself with his hands on the mattress.

Slowly, teasingly, you drag the hand that you have tangled in his hair down his spine. The way he shivers beneath your touch has you smirking as your nails rake along his skin. Already, you can see the faint red lines littering his tanned skin that you’ve given him throughout the night, recalling how he continuously begged you for more.

Who are you to deny your baby?

In the blink of an eye, you’ve lifted him back onto his knees, supporting his body with an arm wrapped around his delicate waist as you resume your brutal pace. Your fingers dig into the skin of his opposite hip, your other hand coming up to rest just below his throat.

The whines that escape him are unlike any that you’ve ever heard from him before. The high pitched moans gradually increase in frequency, his lips parting as his tongue practically lolls out of his mouth. His chest heaves with every breath that he takes, letting you use him like the toy he is, and loving every single glorious second of it.

San would not want this any other way.

As long as it’s him you use, you can do whatever you goddamn please to him, and he’ll thank you every single time with a large smile on his face.

“What a fucking whore you are, Sannie.” There’s an air of condescension to your words which make him moan. “Letting me use your tight little hole like this. Coming all over my sheets untouched like the slut you are.”

A garbled moan of your name slips passed his lips, one hand reaching back to you in order to seek purchase on your hip. Desperately, his nails dig into your skin, attempting to draw you in closer with every thrust.

“I’m yours.” He pants, tilting his head back to give you easier access to his neck. “I’m all yours.”

You do not need to be told twice.

Immediately, you’re shifting your hand that you have placed at the base of his throat to rest around the column of his neck. At the same time, the arm you have wrapped around his waist for support moves to grasp at his weeping cock. Delicately, you squeeze the base, giving a few pumps over his length as he moans loudly.

A movement of which is synonymous with the tightening of your fingers around the sides of his throat.

A strangled whimper escapes him, whole body trembling in your hold.

“You’re mine.” Your hold is downright possessive as you bite the skin of his shoulder for emphasis.

“Yours.” The word falls like a mantra from his lips as he feels his eyes roll to the back of his head. A second later, and a feeling of complete and utter weightlessness settling throughout his body as his orgasm washes over him for the nth time this night.

You feel his cock is twitch in your hand, spurts of his white, hot come painting your fingers. Yet still, you do not relent your pace. Not until he’s a shaking, whimpering mess do you begin to slow, rolling your hips into him slowly as you hold him close.

High pitched whines and moans escape him as you help to ride him through his high, your fingers finally loosening their hold over his throat as he attempts to catch his breath. The moment you feel him collapse forward onto the bed, barely holding himself up by his arms, you still. Gently, you remove your hold over his weeping cock, his release coating your fingers in a sticky mess.

Softly, you stroke the hand that had been previously wrapped around his neck down his spine. All the while, you coo sweet nothings at him, feeling him shiver beneath your touch.

“Such a good boy for me, Sannie.” You hum, caressing the length of his spine once more before pulling out of him.

He shudders from the loss of contact, feeling empty as he fully collapses onto the bed beneath you.

Tenderly, you pull him into your arms.

“You did so well for me, Baby.” You coo, gently brushing some of his hair that clings to his forehead out of his eyes. Softly, you press kisses to his face, smiling all the while. “I’m so proud of you.”

A content hum is all you receive in response, feeling as he buries himself deeper into your loving embrace.

“That’s my Sannie,” you comb your fingers through his damp hair, allowing him to bask in the afterglow.

Slowly, you bring your opposite hand still covered in his come up to his lips. You watch with a dark gaze as they part almost subconsciously, beginning to suckle gently at your fingers. The way his tongue begins to swirl languidly against your digits has you humming contently.

You smirk, “Good Boy.”

#cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #san smut #san scenario #kpop smut #ateez scenario #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez x reader #sub idol #sub ateez #dom reader #kpop scenario

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goszixx · 10 months

Text

Just a kiss

✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞

Notes ❈° ≫ i couldn’t sleep so I had to write this.

Part 2

Warning ❈° ≫ Oral fixation! Choso is needy, dom reader, teasing, begging, I think that’s it?

✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞ ✧༺♡ ༻∞

The sleeves of his light tan robe fell further down his arms, showing off his pale skin. You could see the blush splatter down his neck, the pretty pink contrasting with his skin. Admiring the curves of his muscles, you crossed your legs, leaning back against your arms that supported you. The sheets of your bed shuffled a bit under your weight.

Drops of sweat rolled down his chest, swiping over his perky nipples only to disappear into his clothing. His chest tensed, causing the muscles to flex a bit when he heaved. His teeth grind together when the cold air of the air conditioner sparked on.

Whines broke through his lips for a moment before biting down on his bottom lip harder. The cold air caressed his nipples, only reminding Choso of what he could be doing to you right now, if only you’d let him. “Please.”

Again he muttered the plea, eyes now fixated on the hands in his lap pulling at the clothing other his thighs. He sat on his knees, shuffling on the carpet to keep his stimulation to a minimum. The bulge in his pants is too visible to go back, the thought only added more red to his cheeks. Giving the mark running across his face a pink hue.

Deep pants parted from Choso’s lips as he tried to gain a little control of what he was feeling. You watched, intrigued and amused by the older man. A smile graced your lips when your boyfriend’s eyes squeezed shut, teeth tearing at his bottom lip. Seeing him trying so hard only made you want to tease him more.

You pushed yourself off the bed underneath you, bent as you leaned over Choso. His eyes snapped open only for him to be paralyzed by the smirk laying on your pretty lips.

The man flinched when one of your hands wrapped around his wrists. More heat spreads across his body from the contact. Your eyes never leave each others as you slowly raise his hand.

Seeing you lick your lips before parting them ever so slowly sent shivers throughout Choso’s body. His eyes became dazed when he felt the warmth of your lips on his fingertips. “What are you…” Choso’s words trailed off in a sluggish manner. As if he was intoxicated. The only thing keeping him from pinning this all on a dream was the throbbing of his cock.

It ached, so much so that he felt like he could cum on instincts. He could feel the stickiness of precum pressed against his thigh. His tip no doubt a pretty pink and begging to be stimulated among other parts of his body.

Lips parting as you brought his fingers close, you rolled your tongue out. That look alone made more wetness surge through Choso’s underwear. When the heat of your mouth and the sloppiness of your mouth surrounded his fingers, Choso lost it.

“My love p-please don’t tease me like this.” Choso stuttered his plea, eyes glossy and in need. You were well aware of your boyfriend’s oral fixation. How he needed to put something in his mouth whenever you guys did the deed.

Bite marks littered your shoulders, along with fading hickeys. His mouth was his biggest erogenous zone and the fact your taunting him with something he’s been begging to do to you for days has him on edge.

Your supple tongue sliding between the digits made him light headed and babbling. His voice only muffled by his own tongue lolling out. Drool trailed down his chin, mixing in with the sweat gathering on the dips of his chest.

Choso felt dirty. Whether from how the sweat and drool or from the overwhelming stickiness in his pants.

It doesn’t stop. The wetness kept pooling in the more you sucked on his fingers, letting them shake as they poked and prodded your mouth. Your lips slid from the fingers, dragging along them until you reached the tip. Your stare lingered on Choso. His head was tossed back, hair falling undone and sticking to his neck. The top half of his robe fell, showing off the dips of his arms and shoulders. Your eyes flickered to the hard nipples laying on his chest. They were perked up and attentive, wanting any attention but you didn’t want to touch them just yet.

The noticeable wet spot growing on his robe made a dark chuckle leave your lips. Your free hand clutched the best holding his robe together at his waiting. You were able to flick it open, showing a better outline of the man’s cock confined to one layer of clothing.

“I wasn’t trying to tease you love.” Lier.

Choso eyes flickered to yours slowly, “ca-can my tongue…” Your boyfriend’s embarrassment grew. “I wanna suc-k on you.”

“I know, I know.” You cooed sweetly, even though your next words weren’t as kind. “If you let me kiss you, then you can suck on me all you want.”

Choso’s eyes glowed as he struggled to adjust his body on the back wall of the room. “Thank you, thank you-“

“But.” You cut off that wicked grin of yours rearing its pretty head. “You can’t cum until I’m done kissing you.”

#dom reader #sanrio #jjk smut #smut #choso x y/n #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk choso #fanfic #jjk #jjk x you #y/n #sub character #sub jjk

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shirefantasies · 4 months

Note

I just recently got into LOTR and discovered your blog yesterday night at like 4 am and couldn't stop reading because it gives me the biggest comfort ahhh 🥺🩷🩷 please never stop (ofc only if you're enjoying it), you are an oasis in this LOTR tumblr drought

I wanted to ask, if possible, how you would imagine napping with the Fellowship guys individually would go? How/if they would cuddle you, and their sleeping positions and all? Thank you so much in advance (this is my first time ever sending a request to sb, I hope I did this correctly 🥲)

Yes, you absolutely did! That's such an awesome title 😎 and kinda what I was going for tbh, I felt like I had to be the blog I wanted to see 😂 so glad that resonates with more people! Gurl (in a general-neutral way) I don’t intend to anytime soon, I am enjoying it 😎😆

Napping with the Fellowship

Aragorn

Aragorn is laid clumsily over your form, you having fallen asleep nearly the moment he laid you down and him softly debating joining you before giving into exhaustion whether he liked it or not. When you awake, though, eyes fluttering slowly open, there he is still at your side, gazing at you with a small, private look of love in his eyes. Something pokes you; rolling over, you feel it dart away and quickly realize you’d been crushing poor Strider’s arms the entire time. You apologize of course, but he shakes his head even as he attempts to return blood flow to his arms, chuckling deeply and telling you you needed the rest.

Legolas

Starts off on the other side of the bed from you to be polite. Legolas has his pillow and you have yours. The more sleep takes you, however, the closer both of your bodies inch, one of Legolas's arms falling over you. By the time you awake, he gas been up for a bit- that or he just immediately looks as alert as ever. He is on his side when you first gaze upon him again, one hand beneath you, the other running gently over your hair.

Boromir

Engulfs you in his form as he drifts off, his hands winding around your back and holding the back of your head. Suffocated as you might feel, you know how badly he needs a comforting touch and settle in. A smile creeps onto your lips as his hand runs over your hair. You wake before Boromir does, taking the opportunity to flip over, leaning over to trace the lines of his face. Catching you, Boromir grins, amusement dancing in his blue-green eyes as he tugs you into a kiss.

Gimli

Good fortune if you manage to fall asleep beneath Gimli’s snoring! All jokes aside, the dwarf holds you fast, usually against his chest since he prefers lying on his back, and provides you all the warmth you could want and then some. His head lolls, tickling you with the ends of his beard every now and again before you drift off... When you wake once more, you discover that Gimli has turned onto his side facing you, his eyes fluttering open soon after yours. Some over-the-top sweet nothings escape his lips that have you leaning in to kiss him.

Frodo

Heart practically bursting at the pain in his eyes, you bid, no, demand Frodo try to get some rest and offer to nap alongside him for safety. Reluctant as he looks initially, he agrees and lets you tug him against your body, relaxing ever-so-slightly the moment his back first brushes your chest. As you drowse, you run your hand over his head, letting your fingers tangle in his curls and scratching his scalp lightly. Leaning forward, you see his lips curve upward in contentment and break out in a smile of your own. The last sensation you remember before falling asleep his Frodo's hand grasping yours...

Sam

Prefers laying on his back, flushing as you fall on top of him like a blanket. Sam is all smiles as your hands hold his sides, your noses brushing as you lean down for a kiss. Jokes abound that you’ll never fall asleep like that, but somehow in the haze of it all you find yourself waking again and pressing kisses to Sam’s lips before his own eyes open. Once again, he’s all smiles, glancing down at the way your hand is tracing patterns on his chest, stopping only when he holds it.

Merry

A perfect excuse to snake his hands across your waist and nuzzle into your neck, he thinks! He may even act sleepy just as an excuse to cuddle. In the end, though, the both of you do fall asleep that way, tightly wound against each other. Waking up is serendipitous, always simultaneous as your eyelashes flutter to reveal you staring blearily into each other’s eyes, smiles creeping across your lips.

Pippin

You’ve been cuddled up together long before either one of you falls asleep. He lays facing you, arms thrown over your shoulders and legs tangled together, breathing and heartbeats in sync. No excuse was needed for a nap, both of your eyelids fluttering shut amidst the warmth and joy. Such is how you drift off into a slumber, but when you awake, Pippin's head has fallen back onto yours, weighing it down and keeping you pinned there half beneath him. You can only complain so much, though, upon seeing the serene expression across Pippin's sleeping face.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #legolas #boromir #gimli #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #ask #anon #requested

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estxkios · 9 months

Note

I was just wondering if you could write a one shot or something where basically Bill, from 2007 because I love his hair and it becomes a key point, is at an interview with the boys. The interviewer asks if they have any celebrity crushes. Bill says Reader, who’s from an American pop group, later the same interviewer interviews Readers band and ask the same question. Obviously telling reader that Bill from Tokio Hotel has a crush on them. Reader didn’t know who he was at first by name but remembered when a member of their band reminded them of a song they had played for Reader. Reader of course gets excited and is all like, “The one with the big spiky porcupine hair?! Someone get me in contact with him ASAP-.” And soon it gets back to Bill and how he’d react. Kinda long, I’m sorry.

CRUSH ੈ✩‧₊˚

bill kaulitz x fem!reader

summary: read the request loll

warnings : fluff, celebrity chrushes, reader is in a band!!! and also its not proofread, that should honestly be a warning.

--------------------------------------------------------

It was probably the 6th interview of the day, and needless to say, bill was bored.

he was bored of being asked the same questions all day long, “what is it like being a twin? or “what do you guys look for in girls?”

frankly, he was totally over it. he could’ve sworn he was about to fall asleep when suddenly the interviewer said, “okay, bill! it your turn to say who your celebrity crush is!” she paused an looked the rest of the boys while saying, “who could be the lucky girl?”

“oh! well..” bill softly chewed his bottom lip as he thought. “hm, i would have to say y/n/l/n, yeah.”

the room filled with ooo’s as bill giggled.

“really? wow, what a coincidence..” the interview laughed to herself and bill cocked his head

“whats a coincidence?” tom butted in.

“we are having her on our show next weekend, such a shame. you could have shoot your shot if you were scheduled for sunday!” the interviewer obnoxiously laughed at her own sentence, pointing at the camera and staring into it.

although the others laughed with her, bills heart sank to his feet at the interviewers words.

‘i could’ve met y/n/l/n if we had just scheduled for sunday?! fuck.’ he cursed himself.

———————————————time skip - a week later.

"Alright y/n, last question for the day!" the interviewer enthusiastically said, into her microphone, but moving the microphone away to clear her throat before talking.

you chuckled at the interviewers unique personality, although you werent even sure if you were laughing to make the interveiw less awkward, or if you were actually enjoying the experience.

"sorry," she cleared her throat once more before starting again, "so, the question every man wants to know.." she dramatically paused and stared into the camera before turning back to you, "who is your celebrity crush y/n?!"

you looked over to the drummer of your band, valerie, who chuckled, she knew you didnt have a celebrity crush, which made the suspense of the interveiwers question very awkward.

"well.. you see, she doesnt really have a crush." your bandmate connie said, adjusting her miniskirt.

"wow really? the fabulous y/n doesnt have a crush?!" the interveiwer made a suprised face at the 3 girls sitting on the couch.

her face made the 3 of you chuckle lightly, but soon your face twisted into a look of curiosity when the interviewer said, "well, y/n i know someone who has a crush on you!"

you perked up, slightly taken aback by what she had said. "oh, well.." you smiled lightly, "who is it?"

"bill kaulitz." the interviewer paused to look at you, and connie grabbed your arm while valerie's jaw hung open.

there was an awkward silence until you squeaked out, "..who..?"

"ohmygodhowdoyounotknowbillkaulitzwhattheacctualffuckheslikethehottestrockeronearthrightnow!!" Valerie shouted, almost breaking the sound barrier of the mic that was fixed onto the ceiling.

connie shot her a look that said 'slow the fuck down'

so she did exactly that.

"okay, y/n hes the guy who sings durch den monsun!! the song i was playing earlier on the way here..!" she shook your thigh as she spoke.

oh. my. god.

"THE bill kaulitz..? the spiky hair guy likes me?!" you squealed, realization hitting you like a bullet.

"yeah, he's totally smoking, shoot your shot girl!" the interviewer chimed in.

"oh yeah, he is hot.." you said slowly, lost in a long train of thought.

"alright guys! well thats today's interview with, connie, y/n, and valerie from b/n!" the interviewer giggled as the camera guy zoomed in on your dazed out expression.

you laughed out of embaressment and squeezed connies hand once you realized what you were doing.

and soon after the interview was over, your asistsnt came running to you.

"shit, you loook hot! like, you know, temperature hot!" she paused and looked you up and down, "do you need water? a wet towel?..."

but you accidentally drowned out her talking and brought your hand up to your cheek, which was in fact extremely temperature hot.

fuck, were you blushing?

------------------------------------------- time skip - 3 days later.

it was late at night, bills face was sticky with makeup remover and his hairwas pushed off of his forehead, he turned to his side to face tom, hoping he would have someone to talk to.

"tom?" bill whispered and smacked toms shoulder

"halt die klappe.." tom groaned in annoyance and rolled over, turning away from bill.

bill whined loudly and layed on his back, looking at his ceiling for a breif moment before reaching to the hotel nightstand, groping aimlessly until his hand landed on his computer, witched he swiftly grabbed and put in his lap.

he opened his computer and instantly he computers bright light hit his face.

bill squinted as he typed in his password. he waited a moment before he opened his browser, letting his eyes adjust to the light.

finally, he opened google and searched 'teen.com tv/(y/n/l/n)' and clicking the first video that came up.

he looked at your band members before laying his eyes on you and smiling like a fan girl.

he bit his manicured nail as he watched you talk, completely and utterly consumed by every word you said, and he giggled when he thought about the fact that he had sat in that exact interviewing room the weekend before

bill was lost deep in his thoughts when he heard someone a name that seemed extremely familiar.

his jaw dropped and he paused he video, staring at the screen for a few moments before rewinding the video.

had he heard that right?

he watched the video again.

"THE bill kaulitz..? the guy with spiky hair likes me?" your voice echoed out of his laptop

he watched in complete shock as you said this, blush creeping across his whole face.

his eyes stayed wide and his jaw still dropped as he played he video over and over again.

he couldn't watch the rest of the video.

he closed his browser and immediately went to his gmail, and pulled up his managers name.

he wrote faster then he ever had before, with all the typos it was hard to decipher, but he wrotr something along the lines of "hey!! please get m3 in contact with y/n/l/n!"

he attached the video clip of you saying "THE bill kaulitz..?" along with your manager's email address.

he shut the laptop, too stunned to eeven move.

he threw his head back and ran a hand through his hair.

bill fought the urge to shake tom awake and tell him, but knowing tom that wouldn't end well, so bill just laid splayed out on the bed until his phone buzzed

"bill? its me, y/n. my manager gave me your number. :) let me know if u wanna me up sometime, yeah?"

"holy shit" bill practically shouted

"mmm..." tom groaned and punched bill in his sleep.

but bill couldn't care less, THE y/n had just texted him.

--------------------------------------------------------

2/18 drafts posted !!

and anon i know this isnt exactly what u wanted but i still hope u enjoy!!

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book-place · 5 months

Text

Tea Before Slumber

Warnings: insomnia, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Crowley x reader platonic, Aziraphale x reader platonic

Request: Hello! May I please request an ineffable husbands x reader where reader has trouble sleeping because of insomnia or anxiety or both, and everyone’s favourite angel and demon help them fall asleep? (It’s almost 3am as I type this, oh no)

Request by: Anon

*not my gif*

Summary: You have trouble falling asleep, but Crowley and Aziraphale help you out

A/N: Ineffable husbands>>>

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

You let out a loud huff, throwing your blanket and pillow down onto the couch before plopping down on it, turning on the television.

It had proven to be yet another sleepless night for you- side effects of insomnia- and you were beyond frustrated and tired right now.

All you wanted to do was sleep. But, of course, that was the only thing you couldn’t do.

“What’re you doing up?”

Your eyes lifted from the screen to where Crowley sauntered into the room, a glass of water in hand. Clearly he had gotten up for it, but had fully intended on retreating back to his room right afterwards, stopping himself when he came upon you.

“Can’t sleep again.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Would you like tea?” Aziraphale seemed to have been awoken by the voices as he padded into the room, eyes soft and concern floating through them.

You shrugged one shoulder, “Would it help?”

The angel beamed at you, “I’ve never made a cup of tea that couldn’t put someone right to sleep.”

“You spike the tea?” The alarmed question came from Crowley as he looked at him with wide eyes.

Aziraphale only rolled his eyes playfully as you let out a quiet chuckle and he made his way to the kitchen.

As he went, Crowley fell onto the cushion beside you, “You know,” He drawled, “Watching these isn’t going to help you sleep. It’ll only keep you more awake.”

With another huff of irritation, you clicked off the screen.

You were grouchy by now.

The demon lolled his head to face you, “Need me to sing you a lullaby?” He asked sarcastically.

You snorted out a laugh just as Aziraphale came back into the room, tea in hand and smiling brightly at you despite the late hour of the night.

“Everything can be fixed with a good cup of tea,” He promised as he handed you the cup.

You took it with a grateful smile and began sipping it, chatting softly with Aziraphale and Crowley while you finished it.

“-and then the bookstores owner told me-“

“Angel.” Crowley interrupted his story softly, “Look.”

Aziraphale turned to where you were, head resting against the couch pillows and empty cup laying at your side.

Both of them smiled softly as they looked at you for a moment before Crowley pushed himself up and gently picked you up bridal style, being careful not to wake you.

The angel trailed behind as Crowley brought you back to your bed and laid you down gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he did so.

“Good night,” Aziraphale whispered to your sleeping form before he and the demon shut the door securely behind them.

Ineffable Husbands 😇- @popfishjr @etanordoesbullsh1t

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #good omens x reader #good omens #crowley x reader #crowley #crowley x reader platonic #aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x reader platonic

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somethingheavenknows · 6 months

Text

reputation

pairing: coriolanus snow x female reader

summary: all you’ve ever wanted was to see a flaw in coriolanus, to prove he wasn’t all he said he was. but when you catch him with his guard down, you’re everything but vengeful.

tags/content warnings⚠️: a little bit of mutual hatred that isn’t real, pet names, fingering, oral (female receiving), inferred overstimulation and nonverbal state if you squint. just coryo being cute and inexperienced but bold, for those of us who dare to dream !!!

**smut at the end but lots of long admiring how hot his arms are before that to make up for making you wait

word count: 5,824 (long, i know. i got carried away!)

nsfw content below the cut. i’m not your mother, but either way, proceed with caution.

coriolanus snow has a reputation. everyone knows that.

nobody likes him, yet they tolerate him, because he is not only the prized possession of dr. gaul’s precious hunger games, but he is the darling of the capitol- he is their emblem, their spokesman, the face of the new generation. every girl’s head lolls in adoration when he passes, and his peers sneer when every adult he comes across greets him as our future president, while he sits back and smiles.

at first, you didn’t like him either. you didn’t like his demeanor or the lightning white color of his hair. you hated how every time he spoke, it was eloquent yet condescending, no matter who it was he spoke to. you hated the way his eyes evaluated everyone, yet always settled on you with uncertainty. your biggest issue with coriolanus, though, was how there was not one visible flaw to make him human. his hands did not shake, nor did his voice. his university exams came back spotless and adorned with two zeros every time. his shirts were starched to a stiffness that would only be comfortable for a man so stiff and rigid as he, and his shellacked platinum locks carved a perfect quaff of stone atop his marble cheeks and crystal eyes. more than anything in the world, you wished to see something to dismantle the perfection of him, to watch him doubt himself or miss a button hole.

coriolanus never intended for anyone to see such a falter, because he only allows imperfection for himself when he is alone. when he is elbows deep in textbooks in a locked university classroom, he might unbutton his collared shirt to breathe; when he’s at home behind his bedroom door, he could comb through his hair and let it fall as it had back at the academy. but he was calculated, as was his persona. nobody was going to see him misstep, and they certainly would not see him fail. but poor coriolanus, so obsessed with perfection that it’s made him paranoid, forgot the little details from time to time.

it was only when he settled in a group study room in the library, believing it was a single study room, did you catch a glimpse of the boy everyone once called coryo.

the sun had set hours ago, cloaking the capitol in a darkness only deigned by the dead of night. when it’s this late, the university tends to fall silent; students have either gone home or to a party, leaving the resources at the school wide open for anyone who might wander through. you preferred to study in the library when everyone was gone, because it was the only place where you could focus. there was no noise, no talking, no pointless bickering amongst other students over grades or girlfriends. just you, and your books, and your notepad you loved to doodle in when your mind wandered from your assignments.

so it was a normal night for you, a lonesome one, where you entered the grand doors to the university library, met with the familiar darkness of the hall. the school turned the lights off after eight, and it was eleven. you were headed towards the back of the library with your truckload of textbooks, when you found one light on in the row of group study rooms. the yellow fluorescence spilled through the half-drawn curtains like honey, and you wondered who might be studying together so late? it was usually only you on nights like these. you detoured from your beeline to the single spaces to see who was still awake.

when your eyes fell upon the only other student still on campus, you had to fight the urge to exclaim in triumph- because you’d finally done it. you’d seen the real, human person that existed within stone-carved snow. coriolanus was craned over a myriad of study papers, scribbling equations over and over in a frantic fashion as his brows furrowed so tightly you began to fear his skin would tear. the boy had discarded his academy getup, red coat draped over the back of his chair and his blue button-down thrown sloppily across the table, leaving only his white undershirt left on him. you examined the broadness of his shoulders, which you’d failed to before; the t-shirt hugged him, clinging to the bulk of his arms and cascading down the front of his chest like a white flag. somehow, beneath the uniform, you’d never seen how buff coriolanus actually was, and you thought, well, he was a peacekeeper for a while. maybe he’s kept up with it. around his neck hung a tarnished pair of dog tags which you only assumed had to be his. a keepsake? a reminder? you couldn’t help but wonder.

the shirt and chain were nice informalities, but what did you in was his hair. you’d never recognized just how long it had gotten, since you’re so accustomed to the tightness of its placement; now, it seemed to spill over his ears like the sea foam that curls atop waves, and lapped at the back of his neck in long, soft-looking tufts. you felt heat rush to your cheeks at the messiness of it, and wondered why in the world he insisted on keeping it up when it looked so much prettier down.

the amount of time that passed between when you stumbled upon his study room and stared him down had no measure, but it was long enough for him to notice the shadow of a figure forming on the other side of the window. you watched anxiously as his head cocked, studying the darkness, and your body froze as his rose from the chair and walked to the door. the boy swung it open and the sterile light revealed you just behind the doorframe, doe-eyed and embarrassed. for a second, you thought his lip upturned, but you must have imagined it.

“what are you doing?” coriolanus asked.

“i-” you squeaked, and cleared your throat, “i always study late. what are you doing here?”

“you tell me, since you decided to spy.”

there was that coldness again. as long as you’d known him, he was never less frigid than his last name. you made a show of peeking through the window and replying, “well, it seems to me you’re studying alone in a group room. got nobody to tutor you, huh, coriolanus?”

coriolanus’ lips did not decieve you then, as they curled into a smile that was more chilling than warm. yet, something about it made you wish he’d do it more.

he took a moment to look at the sign on the door, recognizing the plaque designating the room for collective study. he rolled his eyes and muttered, “thoughtless.”

“you know, nobody’s here to tell you that you can’t study in there. it’s not like they’d deny you anything anyway,” you jabbed.

coriolanus’ intriguing grin faded. his opulent jaw tightened as he turned away and sat back down at the large desk where all his books and papers lay, deciding you were not worth a fight. you followed him inside.

“get out,” he groaned.

“it’s a group room, isn’t it?” you smirked, letting your book bag hit the floor with a loud thump! “what, can’t concentrate with me around?”

before he could impulsively agree, coriolanus reminded himself of his situation. so far, you’d violated every safe rule he had- he was half undressed, his hair was disheveled, and the trial and error of arithmetic on his pages proved exactly how many attempts it took to achieve those double zero exam scores you so greedily coveted. here, alone in this room with the only girl in class that didn’t follow his lead like a puppy, he was caught with his guard down. he hated it.

“do whatever you want, just don’t interrupt me.”

you couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips, because you didn’t have to interrupt him. just your presence was enough to throw him off course. you dug quietly through your backpack to fish out your notepad, your textbook for 21st century literature, and your math packet- the same one coriolanus was toiling over. the boy’s eyes kept flickering to you as you laid your belongings out on the table: a collection of graphite pencils, shaved to the nubs from drawing, a gray clay eraser molded to the shape of your fingers, and a sleek silver pen with your initials engraved on the cap. his eyes danced over the pen, admiring the slow curve of its body.

“what are you looking at?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. you liked seeing him so distracted by you, so to chastise him would be overkill- it seemed your normalcy was enough.

coriolanus’ fair skin flushed a rosy pink as he looked up at you. he made himself sit up straight and replied, “nothing. just looking at that pen you have.”

you plucked the utensil from the spot you placed it and passed it over in your palm, tracing the tiny letters of your name. you held it out for him to take, and his eyes glinted with confusion. you held it out a little further, as if to say, it won’t bite. coriolanus flashed a hint of a smile before taking it, and for the first time, he looked his age. he was a college student, a barely broke one at that- you knew more about him than he thought- and the way he held that pure silver pen was like he’d wished for one all his life. his long, slender fingers handled the pen like a relic. you found yourself fixated on the way they moved- with so much intention, so much focus. so much care. and for that, you didn’t hint at a smile at all. you wanted to scream for even allowing yourself to show any display of happiness because of coriolanus snow, but you couldn’t control it. this disposition of his was so new that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. feeling a bit embarrassed, you decided maybe now was the time to tease him, as you so cleverly do often.

“never seen a pen before?”

“i- no, i have seen a pen before,” the boy’s shoulders tensed, but his grip on the pen didn’t. “this one is just… particularly nice.”

you felt a sudden pang of guilt, and you withdrew the urge to be nasty. “well, my father gave me a whole package of them. part of a stationary set. i have seven more. you could…”

“hm?” coriolanus looked from you to your pen, and you rolled your eyes.

“you could- you could keep it, if you wanted.”

you didn’t like the silence in the library now, even though that’s what you came here for. the way coriolanus leaned back in his chair, looking a bit smaller now than he used to, made you squirm in your seat.

“keep it? why?”

“well, because you seem to like it,” you pursed your lips.

“so you’d just give it away? to me, of all people?”

his words felt like a slap to the face. sure, you’d never shown him much grace, but did he really feel you hated him that much? did he think you were that mean? were you that mean?

“yeah,” you pouted just a bit, “i’d like for you to have it.”

coriolanus had never given you a reason to feel softness before. his attitude was so insurmountable all the time that you were always in competition with him, trying to prove you were just as smart, just as quick, just as deserving of praise for all the hard work you do. coriolanus was a formidable opponent, and you both knew that. but all this time you’d been wishing to see him screw up was starting to make you feel like crumbling to pieces, because how could you have wished that upon the boy who sits before you now? the boy who held your pen like a promise, and ogled at the way it wrote so smoothly on his page, and muttered a thank you that was so quiet you wondered if he’d said it at all?

“that’s very kind,” he tacked on.

“well, it’s nice to give sometimes,” you stated.

you both fell silent again, and coriolanus hunched over his work, using your- his- pen to take another crack at the problem he’s been stuck on for nearly forty minutes. you could almost see his brain compartmentalizing, removing you from the equation as he tried to ace the answer. you pretended to open your textbook and read some passage, but you watched him through your eyelashes. you watched as he licked his bottom lip in frustration, and you realized just what situation you’ve gotten yourself into: this was what you wanted. you wanted to catch coriolanus snow acting normal, like a real teenage boy- you’d prayed to see one score of 99 or one trip over his shoelace, and finally you have. coriolanus snow is sitting across the table from you in a t-shirt, with his hair tumbling across his forehead like fresh-spun white gold, struggling to figure out a math problem you had aced during the lesson hours ago. you wanted to help him, when all you’d ever hoped for was to taunt him for his fault- you imagined the day you could pick him apart a hundred times. but you had to help him.

you coughed quietly before reaching across the table to place a finger on the corner of his worksheet, catching his attention. he glanced up at you to see your eyebrows raised, and you asked, “can i?”

the boy nodded, and you slid the paper sideways so you could both see. coriolanus followed your nimble hand as you swiped your pencil across, carrying exponents and deviating with flourish. it wasn’t the first time he’d been impressed by your smarts, but it was the first time he’d seen your brilliance so closely. you didn’t know that he always found your brain so fascinating, because of how everything came to you with ease- you didn’t have to study as hard as he did, or at least he thought so. you just clicked when it came to school. he found that… beautiful, in a way. and he found you beautiful now, as you showed him the correct answer, smiling softly.

“did that make sense? did i explain it right?” you wondered aloud, and he blushed, realizing he hadn’t heard a word you said.

“oh- well, i… i zoned out a bit. i’m sorry.”

you chuckled. “want me to show you again?”

something low in coriolanus’ stomach bubbled, and before he thought of any possible consequences, he lied right to your face: “you know, i couldn’t see the paper very well. could you…?”

you didn’t notice his ploy, which sent a surge of relief through him. you got up and walked around the table, squatting beside his chair so the both of you could see the worksheet straight on. as you walked him through the equation again, he failed to listen to your words; instead, he listened to the slight tremor in your voice, the low timbre with which you spoke. you sounded gentle, which he wasn’t used to. and he inhaled the scent of you, which was as strong as always. he was partial to roses, yet his grandma’am’s roses didn’t have much scent. but he had always held a reservation for your perfume, for it smelled like something he hadn’t known before. it was warm and starchy, but sweet, and if only he could get a bit closer, he might be able to tell exactly what sweetness he recognized…

you had stopped talking, and you were looking at him with a ghostly expression, and he wondered for a moment what stopped you. and he kept twisting a lock of your hair around his finger, trying to figure it out. until he noticed he was feeling your hair.

“i- oh, i-” coriolanus withdrew his hand like you had a disease and scrunched his face up with shame, “i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have…”

you leaned back on your heels and shook your head nervously. “no, i-it’s okay.”

“your hair is soft.”

“thank you.”

“…could i?” he muttered, lips barely parting as he reached his hand out again. it looked so big up close.

“sure.”

coriolanus took a little more liberty, carding his strong palm through your hair, dragging his fingers all the way from the roots to the ends. he watched it shine in the low light of the study room, and you gazed up at him like you’d never met him before- which, in theory, you haven’t. not this version of him. he handled you softly, tracing the curve of your shoulder with his pointer finger, and you though he might as well be carving your skin with a blade the way it stung. you shivered, and he smiled. not coldly. a real smile.

“you’re not like this,” you croaked. “you’re… you’re mean, and you always win.”

“i don’t always win,” he protested.

“yes you do. everyone either hates you or wishes they were you. you’re the future president, remember? everything goes your way.”

“you never let me win, do you?” he dared to play with your hair again as he continued, “always on my heels. getting the same exam scores, spitting out answers like it’s a contest. you never let me get the best of you like others do.”

“well, why should you get to have all the fun?” you rebutted.

coriolanus laughed, and it filled your lungs with butterflies. butterflies. because of coriolanus. are you dying?

“i know i’m… well, an ass. it’s how i succeed. but i’ve always liked your competition, you know. you keep me on my toes.”

“someone should.”

“you’re right.”

his arms were filling out those t-shirt sleeves so nicely, and you’d never realized just how handsome coriolanus was. not statue-handsome, but boyish. he was strong and broad, and he had a hand at the back of your neck, and suddenly your hands were shaking.

“i’ve always liked you, you know. i always thought you were pretty, like the actresses in those old movies from before the war,” he admitted. “and smart. smarter than me. smarter than everyone at this school.”

“really?”

“really.”

you swallowed thickly and reached behind your head, finding his knuckles and touching them with your fingertips. “i always thought i hated you. i don’t think i do. i think i just… don’t understand you.”

you stood up and sat on the edge of the table, crossing your arms over your chest. coriolanus had to pretend he didn’t love the way you curved behind your arms. you were in a university sweater, a cable-knit one, and your issued slacks were rolled up to reveal the old army boots on your feet. he wondered if they were a keepsake from your father, a dutiful peacekeeper, or if you had a home life like his.

“what don’t you understand?”

“everything. your luck. your smarts. your power. your looks.”

“my looks?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to hide your nerves. “y-yes, your looks. everyone knows you’re handsome, coriolanus. you’re presidentially handsome, like all our professors say.”

“do you agree with them?”

you could tell he was teasing now, but you had too much pride to let him win. like always. “no. i think you’re a different kind of handsome.”

“and what is that?”

“the kind that’s frustrating.”

“frustrating?”

“yes.”

coriolanus leaned back in his chair then, and you felt like he was presenting himself for you to judge exactly what was so frustrating. but you knew it was how he smiled, and held himself tall, and struck down his enemies without lifting a finger. he was intimidating, and you didn’t know how much you liked that.

the boy licked his lips again and said, “you’re different outside of classes, too, you know. more like… how i imagined you.”

“you imagine me?”

“you don’t imagine me?”

this was driving you insane. sitting before him, legs clamped shut, trying to convince yourself that he’s your enemy, and he’s evil, and he’s only ever given you trouble; that you could easily come to school the next day and tell everyone that coriolanus snow can’t solve complex derivatives. but you felt it in your gut that you wanted to teach him how to solve complex derivates, just like you ached to feel how his big hands felt anywhere besides your neck. and in those icy eyes, you saw the way he looked at you, like you were a paper with a 101 marked at the top. like he had wanted nothing more than he wanted you in that moment.

you uncrossed your arms as he rose from his seat, taking a step closer to you. he placed those hands on your hips and pushed you back, sliding you onto the table. your legs parted naturally, and he stood between them, refusing to move his touch. you gazed up into his defrosted eyes and smiled, and he smiled back.

it was a surprise when he asked, “can i kiss you?” because coriolanus didn’t seem like that kind of boy. he took what he wanted. but he didn’t take you; it seemed like he wanted to earn you.

you nodded softly. “yeah.”

his lips were on you before you had a chance to breathe, but you didn’t mind. he was slow, and his mouth was dangerously warm. his thumbs pressed into your hip bones, which gave you the urge to reach for something of his in return. you chose his hair, burying your hands in the slightly crunchy curls that unraveled from the gel. you brushed through them to soften them up, and he giggled against your mouth, sensing you’d been thinking of doing that for a while. when his hand found your neck again, he tugged at your hair a bit to tip your face back for better access. when you felt him pull you, you gasped against his lips, and everything came tumbling down.

“coryo,” you heaved.

his eyes grew dark at the sound of his nickname, which he hadn’t heard since he was at the academy. he didn’t even know you knew of it. but oh, he liked the way it sounded coming from you. so desperate.

“what was that?” he smirked, tugging at your hair again. not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make your legs twitch.

you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, leaving a slight ring of saliva in your wake as you repeated it much softer. “coryo.”

“don’t ever call me coriolanus again. please.”

“kiss me again and i’ll forget your name altogether.”

he was everywhere. his hands roamed your sides as he kissed you again, taking his lips across your face and neck like you were the first meal he’s eaten in ages. you whined against this touch, feeling the pressure of his waist as your legs wrapped around him. you arched your back, attempting to roll your hips against his, bickering with his tongue; coryo’s calloused hands shoved beneath your sweater, bunching it up at his forearms as he kneaded the soft pudge of your stomach. you were leaving smudges of graphite on his porcelain skin from the worksheet, but you didn’t mind tainting his perfection just a tad. he could use a little smudging.

“please,” you asked kindly, nipping at his cheek, right by a smooth black stain.

“please what?”

“touch me, coryo.”

“how?” he paused. your hazy eyes caught his and saw apprehension, which only made you giggle.

“have you never…?”

“not, uh… not recently,” he blushed, and then retracted his lie. “not ever.”

you untangled from him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “s’okay. sit down.”

the boy listened, unsure of how he felt being ordered around. you made him pull the chair right up to the table, and you leaned across to kiss him again. you took the moment to press your hands to his chest, feeling the hard muscles he’d been hiding under that uniform for so long. he shuddered when you ran your hands from his shoulders down to his hands, and you laced your fingers with his. an intimate gesture for you both, but he liked it. he liked being close to you like this.

“so smart, but you don’t know how to touch a girl, huh, coryo?” you grinned, pressing a light kiss to his lips. he chased after you as you pulled away, wanting another, but you nudged him with your nose.

“i don’t know everything,” he gulped, “i mean, i have an idea, but i… yeah.”

“do you want to?”

“yes,” coryo pledged. “please.”

“i didn’t peg you as a learner.” you were nervous, but you wanted him more, so you leaned back and said, “i’ll show you what to do, okay?”

“okay.”

you slowly layed back on the table, and coryo reached for the button on your pants. his hands shook, and you thought to yourself, every flaw i’ve ever wanted to see, i’m seeing tonight, and it’s because of me. you giggled, and coryo chuckled back out of shyness. he fumbled with the button and was gentle with the fabric as he slid your slacks down. his eyes took in every inch of curve you’d been hiding under that godforsaken school uniform, and how your little black underwear cut into the chub of your waist. he knew you had enough to eat, and that made him happy.

your skin felt like fire in every place his hands grazed as he freed your legs, and you did your best to be encouraging as you took his hand in yours. you leaned back on one elbow and held his hand in the other, and the two of you shuddered as you pressed his palm flush to your warmth. you guided his fingers to the little bud of nerves resting at the top, and coriolanus’ mouth was already watering at the dampness of the fabric.

“do you feel that spot right there?” you asked, voice cracking. his fingers were so warm.

“yes,”

“i want you to rub it. don’t push too hard, and circle it with your fingers, okay?”

coriolanus looked into your glazed eyes and said, “you’ll tell me if i’m doing it wrong?” and when you nodded sweetly, he gave it a try.

you couldn’t bite your tongue as he began, because this couldn’t have been his first time. he had exactly the right pressure, and exactly the right pace, and his fingers molded to the shape of you so well that you saw stars. you let out a string of soft moans, and the boy reached his spare hand over the table to hold yours.

“good?” he inquired.

“mm,” you struggled to respond, “coryo, mhm.”

“i like how you say my name. i wish you’d called me that sooner. haven’t been called that in a long time, pretty,”

a drunken smile tugged at your lips as you half-teased half-praised, “coryo, coryo, coryo.”

he kept circling for a while, watching the way you struggled to breath through your nose as you kept quiet. a cocktail of obsession and need swirled in his stomach, and he knew this would be enough for you, but it wasn’t nearly enough for him. he wanted to be as close to you as possible, and feel your hands on his face- after feeling the delicateness of them as they intertwined with his, he had come to love your hands.

“this isn’t close enough,” he pulled his hand away, and you whined at the loss of contact. “can i try something else?”

“what do you want to-”

coriolanus made quick work of sliding your underwear down your legs and discarding of it on the chair next to his shirt. you watched as he dropped to his knees before you and smiled, taking his first look at everything you had to offer. he looked so hungry.

“do you even know what you’re doing?” you breathed.

“well, i know where it feels good, don’t i? do you trust me?”

you sat up a bit to get a better view. his messy blond hair falling into his eyes, and his hungry face staring up at you. coriolanus snow, on his knees. you thought you’d never see the day. you nodded in response.

taking your nod for approval, he licked his lips, and he made his move.

your hands flew to his hair as his tongue licked a fat stripe between your hips, flicking ever so slightly over your clit; he made a few of these before he plunged his tongue inside, giving you no warning but rewarding you with happy little groans into you. you mindlessly bucked your hips into his face as he got himself acquainted with you, unsure of how he was so good at this but in too much ecstasy to care.

“fuck, coryo, just like that,” you moaned, and he responded with a chuckle that sent shockwaves to your stomach. his heavy palms stopped pressing your thighs apart, allowing you to clamp them around his face, which only made him lick harder, and faster, and deeper.

“you taste like your perfume,” he raved as he came up for air, his chin slick with your arousal. “sweet, like something powdery,”

“may roses,” you wheezed, “my perfume smells like may roses, coryo,”

may roses, he thought. she smells like roses. my roses suck compared to this. he took one more whiff of the skin on your stomach, which flooded you with butterflies, and then he went back for more.

he was torturous then. he lapped at you like a dog, twisting and swirling his tongue around, aiming to touch every single spot inside of you that he hadn’t had the pleasure to yet. your gut felt tense as he ate you so carefully, yet the rest of your body was growing limp; your hands tied into his curls were the only things holding you up. coriolanus noticed you suffering and pressed both hands to your tummy, coaxing you to lay flat on the table. he stood over you then, pressing sweet little kisses all over your body up to your neck, leaving lip prints in a slick trail. the boy caught your lips again, and you moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself; coriolanus used the opportunity to go back to circling, using what you’d taught him like a good student.

“o-oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face into his neck, “jesus, coryo,”

“i’ve always wanted you like this. even when you pissed me off, i still liked you. i really like you.”

you felt like your brain was melting out of your ears at his touch, feeling him pressing against your heat just enough to make your body shake. “fuck, i more than like you now.”

coriolanus grinned darkly and decided to get a little playful. he kept his thumb pressed to your clit, and he pushed his two middle fingers inside of you, cooing at the wetness and warmth. you gasped, clawing hopelessly at his t-shirt as he curled them inside of you, following the cadence of your heartbeat, which was racing.

“good, hm?” he asked.

“coryo!” you cried, eyes clamping shut like you were in pain. but it wasn’t painful, not one bit.

he kept placing tantalizing kissed on your chest, right near your collarbones, as his fingers ebbed and flowed. your walls ached, your body limp, brain completely dumb on his fingers.

“look at you, sweetheart,” he teased, “can’t even speak.”

he watched you try to protest, but all that fell from your lips were unfinished phrases. it was only when your hands scraped down his back did he feel you tighten around his hand, and he trapped you there, fucking his fingers into you as hard as he possibly could.

“come on, darling. let it go.”

“c- cor-”

coriolanus interrupted your mindless babbling, pressing you one more time: “let yourself go for me. show me i did a good job, yeah?”

the way his voice growled as he asked such a needy question sent you tumbling over the edge. as his fingers were hitting you in just the right spot, you let out what was meant to be a scream but broke on the way up into a million lewd pieces; coriolanus collected you with one dizzyingly strong arm as you bucked your tired hips into his palm, chasing after your orgasm as he kept moving ever so slowly inside you, working you through it. he refused to stop kissing you, and left praise after praise stinging your skin as he pulled his fingers out. he admired the way they glistened and dripped with you, nearly collapsing under the weight of what he’d just done for the girl he’d been admiring for so long.

“i’ve been dreaming of that, y’know,” he nipped at your ear, and you twitched in his arms. you could barely speak, so he kept talking. he helped you sit up, and pulled your black panties back up your shaking legs, kissing your knees. “you were good, love. you did so good. i always wanted to make you feel good like that.”

you blinked through the haze, helping him by raising your hips a bit so he could cover you back up. you swallowed thickly, and when your vision cleared, you saw coriolanus smiling at you in a way he’d never smiled at anyone… with love in his eyes.

“you’re nice,” you were able to choke out. “nice to me.”

“i’m sorry i haven’t been before. i wanted to be.” you offered a dopey smile, and he followed up with, “not so quick to talk back when you’re fucked out, are you?”

you could only giggle into his neck, pressing embarrassed, swollen kisses to the vein that ran behind his ear. “mm-mmm,” you shook your head, trying to speak slowly so you didn’t stutter, “if you sit… i’ll re… i’ll repay the favor.”

“but you’re-”

“shh,” you cut the boy off, “m’gonna be nice to you now, coryo.”

so, coriolanus showed you yet again that he was capable of listening when he wanted to, and you taught him a lesson in what it’s like to be loved by someone who hates first- just like him.

coriolanus snow has a reputation, and for good reason. he needs to be strong so he can succeed. but behind closed doors, where he can let his hair down and show the hard work it takes for him to stay strong, you’ve come to learn that there’s more to the coriolanus snow everyone sees. his uncertainty, his frustration- that’s when he became coryo. and coryo is a learner, a lover, even in his most harsh and unlikable forms. but most importantly, he harbors devotion like an obsession, and there is nothing worth more devotion than you. not his country, not his family name, not even his math exam. only you.

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