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tonycries · 2 months

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Dream A Little Dream - G.S.

Synopsis. For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. fem! reader, established relationship, implied sex, fluff, soft and sleepy Satoru, very slight manga spoilers, just Satoru loving on you and your future together.

Word count. 0.8k

A/N. Probably gonna delete. Art by @_3aem on X.

It’s times like this - when the quiet morning sun is just peeking in through your window, in the still haze of your naked body peacefully intertwined with his that Satoru allows himself to dream.

He dreams of everything - from the strawberry lollipops he snuck into the Gojo Estate as a kid to the time when he forgot Megumi at the mall.

But mostly, he dreams of you.

Eyes still veiled with sleep, wandering the expanse of your face, a hand tenderly running along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Thumb softly catching on the corner of your mouth, slightly quirked up, he wonders what you’re dreaming of.

Do you dream of him too?

Because Satoru’s favorite dream will always be the one with you.

Your laughter in the morning light as he smothers you in kisses, how it rings in his ears and carries through his day. If there’s one thing Satoru knows, it’s that he would burn this entire godforsaken world down to keep it there. Even in the face of violence, his favorite song.

Reaching out to softly kiss your fingers, the hands which hold his heart and his future.

Unhurriedly, he caresses that empty spot on your ring finger. Soon.

Little black box burning a hole into that hidden corner of his dresser, Satoru absentmindedly wonders whether you would go for a flowing gown or more of a sleek design? He dreams of the delicate lace under his fingers, the gentle sway of the fabric and the blue bouquet to match his eyes.

A huff of laughter, followed by a melancholic twinge of his heart, finds its way into the still morning air as he imagines the way Nanamin would have been crying very reluctant tears of joy.

Long fingers deftly run along the expanse of your body, drawing patterns on the marks he’s left to remember him by, resting on your stomach. He dreams of a world where he is there to see you run around with a few white-haired bundles of joy. All of them with your personality of course - he couldn’t handle having to fight with some mini versions of himself over you.

And they may be closed for now, but he dreams of the twinkle in your eyes as they meet his, the promise of a beautiful day ahead.

He can only pray that they always look at him that way. Even when the shine of your eyes dim with age, the chapters of your story showing on your face. The dream where you two complain about your first gray hairs - him cackling about you finally joining the club.

It might not seem like it, but in the blood and merciless gore of jujutsu, a part of the strongest always thinks back to the heaven he’s found in you.

The heaven where you both cry over your kids leaving the nest, and later he’d fervently deny his teary eyes - secretly wiping the tears off his glasses.

Where you spend quiet evenings on the porch, wrapped in blankets and reminiscing about the adventures of your youth. Did he ever tell you that story where he lost the tickets to a movie and had to sneak into the theater with Shoko and Suguru? Boy, did he get an earful from Yaga that day.

The dream where he’s surrounded by you and all your warmth. In the cold pain that comes with being the strongest, he can only hope that a day will come where his strength - rather than being used to kill - holds your future with ready arms.

Ripping his eyes off of your face, they wander the room bathed in the soft morning glow. Mapping the empty spaces which you two would fill with pictures. The walls which would echo with laughter and whisper tales of serenity.

First days at school, graduations, all the friends and foes lost along the years - and one big picture of you in that beautiful white dress, right in the middle. All beauty and grace. His beautiful bride. A dream where his last name is a melody not a death sentence.

He dreams he’s there to fetch your walking cane to stroll through your little garden with a cup of his famous morning tea. He’d hold your hand as he always does, both trembling and frail with age. He dreams he would kiss the beautiful wrinkles on the corners of your eyes, only for you to push him away bashfully complaining about the grandkids seeing.

Blue eyes faded and the joy of the years showing on his face, not as strong or as vibrant as he once was, limitless nothing more but a trick to make his grandkids smile. Not a weapon, but just your Satoru. He hopes you’ll still be there to love him.

And he dreams he’s there.

He wants to be there.

“Satoru?”

Satoru’s heart lurches as those beautiful eyes crack open, still foggy with sleep. A glimpse of that smile he found heaven in, and you pull him closer. Understanding. Skin heated against his, no one but you two in this quiet world.

All is well in your little heaven.

Today, the strongest will face Ryomen Sukuna, the fate of the world burdened upon his shoulders. But for now, Satoru is held fragilely in your arms.

For now, he is yours.

He only dreams he can be forevermore.

A/N. Tony writing something that isn’t smut??? The world is coming to an end.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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dancingbirdie · 6 months

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Back with another bout of plotless smut. Read at your own discretion and take note of the tags. <333

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

We Have All Night

Rating: MATURE

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader x Halsin

Word Count: 800

Warnings/Tags: Oral sex (fem!Reader receiving), praise kink, hand kink, threesome technically?, mentions of alcohol, pure plotless smut

Summary: You'd been wondering for some time what it would be like to have Halsin and Astarion share you.

*****

You could have easily blamed the events that ensued on the bottles of Blingdenstone Blush you all had passed around camp that evening. But if you were honest with yourself, the position you found yourself in was one you had been fantasizing about for some time.

“That’s it, darling,” Astarion coaxed as his fingers slipped gently through your hair, teasing and massaging your scalp. Your head was pillowed in his lap, pupils blown wide with lust as you peered up at him. He smiled down at you, a wicked, hedonistic sort of grin.

“You so desperately want to hold still for him, don’t you?”

You whined your assent, trying your best to keep your hips from bucking – an impossible task considering the relentless way Halsin’s tongue was licking and circling that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs.

“Such a good girl. You’re doing so well” Astarion cooed, while Halsin groaned in agreement. The vibrations it created against your skin felt like electricity surging through your limbs.

Your mind was a disjointed haze of lust and alcohol. Totally uninhibited, you keened loudly as the druid suddenly gripped the softness of your thighs and plunged his tongue inside you.

“Shh, shh, shh” Astarion hushed, moving a hand to cover your mouth. “We don’t want the rest of the camp to hear our fun, do we?”

You groaned and shook your head slightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join in?” you rasped, your lips moving against his slender fingers.

He gave a mischievous little chuckle. “I’m certain. I’m having a wonderful time just watching,” Astarion returned.

“The night is still young,” Halsin persuaded, pausing his feasting on you to meet Astarion’s eyes. The absence of his mouth left you wanting, aching for contact once more. “If you change your mind, there’s plenty of fun to be had.”

“A tempting offer, indeed,” Astarion smirked. “Let’s see where the evening takes us, shall we?”

You moaned against his hand as Halsin dipped his head to begin circling your clit with his tongue once more. You fisted his gorgeous auburn locks in your hands, eliciting a groan from his mouth that felt absolutely delicious against your hypersensitive skin.

“Our sweet pup has an oh-so-difficult time keeping quiet, doesn’t she?” Astarion crooned, tracing his fingers against the seam of your lips. “You’re trying so hard, darling, I know you are.”

His silken, sinful voice felt almost as euphoric as the deplorable things Halsin was doing between your legs. In a bout of unbridled lust, you opened your mouth to capture Astarion’s index and middle fingers in your mouth.

You sucked down on them, circled them with your tongue, as you imagined having his hard length sheathed down your throat. Your bawdy move drew a sharp breath from the vampire, followed by a quiet groan.

You paused your ministrations, lifting a hand to pull his fingers from your mouth before asking, “Is this okay? Is it too much?”

Astarion chuckled darkly, and you watched as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.

“You wicked thing,” he purred. “Yes, it’s okay. And it has the added benefit of keeping you quiet.”

You were beyond laughs and jokes. Hearing his consent, you drew his fingers back down to your mouth and resumed your sucking. You moaned your approval as Astarion pistoned his fingers deeper into your mouth at the same time Halsin inserted two fingers inside you.

You knew you wouldn’t last long. Not with the way the druid was fucking you with his fingers at the same time his tongue was circling your clit. Not with the way Astarion was trailing one hand delicately across your exposed skin while you worshiped the fingers of his other hand with your tongue and lips.

Every nerve within you was alight and thrumming with barely-restrained energy. You could feel yourself climbing higher and higher, your body preparing for the sweetest freefall that would soon ensue. Your heels dug into Halsin’s muscled back as you tensed, one hand still clenching his hair while the other held desperately onto Astarion’s thigh.

“Yes, darling, yes,” Astarion kept coaxing as your body drew more and more taut. A bowstring desperate to be released.

“Let yourself come, you know you want to,” he added in a soft whisper.

It was too much.

Those words, and a final flick of Halsin’s tongue, had you shattering into a thousand pieces. Your cries were barely restrained by the fingers still occupying your mouth. You were lost in pleasure, awash in the tingling aftermath of your release.

Chest heaving, mind reeling, you could barely find words.

“That… that was…” you wheezed, before letting loose a giggle. “Everything I’d imagined it would be.”

“You’d thought about this before?” Halsin grinned, wiping his mouth clean against his forearm before leaning down to plant a reverent kiss against your lips. You could taste yourself on him. It gave you more satisfaction than perhaps it should have.

“My, my. What other sort of depraved carnal pleasures are bouncing around in that head of yours, I wonder?” Astarion added, helping you sit up so that you were lounging between the two of them.

You shared a conspiratorial grin with both elves. “We have all night, if you’d like me to show you.”

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euphemiaamillais · 3 months

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dealer — coriolanus snow

you can’t help it, but your dealer, snow, is just so hot. and when you’re buying weed from him, you can’t resist offering him an alternative form of payment…

cw: 18+//weed-smoking//handjobs//fingering (f. receiving)//dealer!coryo

it was embarrassing, really, how hot you found your dealer. of course, he’d really been your friend’s dealer first, before you met him you’d never even tried weed before, but when you found out he was hot—pretty much perpetually shirtless, toned, with a blonde buzzcut and icy blue eyes—you started saying you smoked just to have an excuse to see him.

you had come to see him today to pick up, but you’d put extra effort into your appearance. a little bit of eyeshadow and mascara; not too much to be noticeable, but enough that it brought out your best features. you’d also made sure to wear your shortest skirt, and was planning on ‘accidentally’ dropping something so you’d have to bend over and show him your lacy thong.

so here you are, sitting on the couch with him, his arm resting behind your shoulders. close enough to touch you, but not enough that it seemed purposeful. he moves his arm away for a moment, reaching forward and beginning to grab the skins and weed to roll a blunt.

you never smoked a lot when you were with him, saying you had to drive home or you had to work afterwards, but really it was because you’d never had more than a few puffs. you ended up giving most of the weed to your friends. it was becoming a little obvious now, but he had. never called you out on it, yet.

you watch him lick the paper, his nimble fingers rolling it up firmly. he’s done it thousands of times, and as you gaze at him, you feel your heart flutter. there’s something so attractive about the way his biceps flex, and how his tongue darts out just so. you feel your core burning, and your hand tenses around the arm of the couch.

‘there you go, princess,’ he says with a smile, handing you the perfect rolled blunt.

he reaches for his lighter, and as you hold the blunt to your glossy lips, he lights you up. your cheeks redden as his pinky brushes against your chin, ever-so-slightly. you take a small drag, the blunt wedged between your middle and forefinger.

‘thanks,’ you say with a slight cough. you’ve never been very well-practised at smoking, but he doesn’t tease you for it.

he takes a hit himself, his expert lips sucking in a heavy drag, and you wonder what that mouth would feel like against your own. you shift a little in your seat, foot tapping nervously. the first drag of weed doesn’t seem to calm you, so when he hands it back to you, you take a longer drag.

your head spins slightly, and you see him smiling at you through the haze the puff has induced. when that fades, he’s still smiling, and he seems to have moved several inches closer to you.

‘you look nice today, princess,’ he murmurs, taking the blunt from you and taking another hit.

‘thanks, snow,’ you blush, eyes flickering down to your thighs. you can’t help but realise how bear they are, how your skirt has crept up so high that you can make out the pink lace fabric of your panties.

‘you always look nice though,’ he strokes your cheek, hand surprisingly cold. you’d always thought he was warm, judging by the fact that he was either in a white tank top or a shirtless. ‘but today… something’s different.’

‘well, i am wearing makeup,’ you admit shyly, and he chuckles.

his icy eyes flicker down to your legs, the way they’ve curled up, and when you move your knees absentmindedly, he can’t help but spy your panties. a breath catches in his throat, and he moves his gaze back to yours, not wanting to seem like he was perving on you. he can’t get the image out of his mind though, the way he could see the outline of your folds through the sheer lace fabric.

but he can’t. you’re so innocent and sweet. and he’s… well, he’s caught up in a world he doesn’t want to involve you in. you are so pretty though, and always pay him properly, and you have perfect manners. he wishes half the girls that bought from him were as kind as you. of course, you’re special. he always gives you discounts, the special treatment. not that he’d ever tell you, of course. but you’ve never questioned that he gives you 5 grams for only twenty bucks when the going rate is fifty.

you catch the way his eyes dance with want, and maybe it’s the weed that’s given you a newfound self-confidence, or perhaps you’re just taking the chance, but you find yourself speaking before you can even think it through.

‘can i pay you a different way, today?’ you bite your lip, and are returned with a cocked brow.

‘you not have cash today, princess?’ he asks, a little bit frustrated. it’s so complicated when he has to take card, and god forbid the bank asks him where his money is coming from.

you tilt your head to the side, trying not to be too obvious, but he catches a glimmer of desire in your eyes. you lean in closer to him, breath pressing against his cheek. your lips are curved up delicately.

‘i mean, i do, but,’ you pause for a moment, and his mouth draws into a thin line of understanding. ‘i wanted to pay you another way…’

you run your hand up his thigh, feeling the hard muscles under his pants, and watch as he lets out a heavy sigh. he can’t help but begin to harden as your hand inches closer to his cock. he didn’t think you wanted him like he did you, but of course, it makes sense now. the way you had put in extra effort today, how you’d sat in a manner that revealed your panties.

‘you don’t have to, princess,’ he murmurs, and you shake your head, adamant.

‘but i want to… if it’s okay with you, of course,’ your brows arch innocently.

he nods, groaning as you palm his bulge. he can’t believe that you, with your innocent, sweet face, are touching him like this. it feels wrong, but he’s hard in an instant, cock aching as you caress him.

‘fuck, princess,’ he grunts, unable to stop himself from bucking into your palm.

your nimble fingers move to unzip his jeans, and when you slide down his boxers too, your mouth waters at the sight. his cock is pressing against his stomach, and god, it’s so, so big. it’s a little bit daunting, really. you thumb the tip of his cock, earning another groan from his lips.

‘can i?’ you inquire, moving your hand away and bringing it just below your mouth in order to cup your palm.

‘course, not going to complain if you wanna jerk me off,’ he half-laughs, settling further back into the couch.

you spit in your palm, and take your hand right against his cock, stroking him up and down. you give him a smile, but his eyes have fluttered shut, and his lips have stretched around a moan. he can’t believe how good it feels, and perhaps it’s because he’s been dreaming of it at times, but the way you squeeze him, and bring your thumb back over his tip drives him wild.

‘fuck,’ he sighs, a little in disbelief that you’re so good at this.

you continue to stroke him as he grinds into your palm, and as you see him grow with more desire, you use your free hand to pump the base, because he’s just that big. you clench your thighs together, heat pooling at your thighs as you jerk him off.

‘you’re so big,’ you blush, continuing pump your hand at the base of his cock while you squeeze the tip with your other.

he laughs a little, but is cut off by a low moan as you squeeze him between your palm. he doesn’t know how much more he can take, though your face is gazing so innocently at him, your hands are stroking him with filthy intentions; and it feels so good. he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and your cheeks burn with a soft flush, feeling giddy but also swamped with want.

‘fuck, princess, think i’m gonna cum,’ he grunts, rutting into your hand.

he gives a few more thrusts, and when you swipe your thumb over the leaking head of his cock again, hot spurts come out onto your hand. his breath hitches, and you let out a soft giggle as your hand becomes sticky with his cum.

you offer him a sweet smile as you lick the cum off your hand, and he can’t help but sigh at the sight of you licking up every last drop of him. it’s so erotic, and the fact that you’re gazing at him with wide, innocent eyes puts a stark contrast to what you’re doing. he continues to watch you as he pulls his boxers and pants back up.

‘i hope you liked it,’ you wiggle closer to him, and press a kiss to his cheek.

‘course i did,’ he wraps an arm around your waist, and draws you flush against him.

your lashes flutter in such proximity to him, and he swears he can hear the pitter patter of your heart. he wants to thank you too, make you come and make sweet noises for him. he presses his lips against your jaw, and trails kisses across it, watching as you arch your neck for him.

‘snow…’ you push him away, heat flooding to your cheeks.

he furrows his brow, a look of slight distress crossing his features. has he pushed too far? you’re embarrassed with the way he’s touching you, anxious that he feels obliged to be all sweet and handsy now because you gave him a handjob. not that you’d mind him manhandling you, but you want it to be genuine.

‘hey, princess, i’m sorry if—’ you cut him off, shaking your head, a small smile creeps upon your lips.

‘no, you didn’t do anything,’ you sigh. ‘it’s just, i want you to know that i really like you. and i don’t want you to feel like you have to be nice to me just because i have you a handjob.’

you fidget restlessly with your hands, thumbs twiddling as you search his face for a reaction, a response. he’s never gotten angry at you before, but part of you fears that you’ve pushed him over the edge, perhaps that your words have been an insult to his pride.

‘how could i not be sweet to you? you’re my girl, yeah?’ he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you lean against his form, head nestling against his neck. he’s still so cold, but part of you finds that comforting, his cool fingers pressing against the warm skin of your upper arm, trailing down your back…

‘i wanna be your girl, for real,’ you admit bashfully. you gaze up at him, sweet eyes brimming with earnestness. his heart breaks at how innocent you are. ‘you know i only started smoking so i had an excuse to see you.’

he laughs, casting a knowing look at you. he thumbs the smooth skin of your cheek, which is rosy with the slight embarrassment of your confession. he wants to make you his, but there’s so much risk, for you, of course. you’re too sweet, a saccharine smile, god, you’ve not even tried anything else like coke or ecstasy. you could get in a lot of trouble, being his girl. part of him regrets calling you that, but how can he resist temptation when aphrodite is presenting herself to him right before his eyes?

‘i knew you weren’t really a stoner, princess,’ he flashes his pearly whites. ‘too sweet to be smoking that much anyways. ‘n besides, if i thought you were gonna be smoking it i wouldn’t have sold it to you.’

your chest heaves a sigh, and you give an embarrassed show of sheepishness, lips pursing together as you attempt to smear what’s left of the gloss around.

‘but hey,’ he casts an earnest look, blue eyes brimming with sweetness that’s so uncharacteristic for him—not when he’s with you, of course. ‘i’m trouble, princess. don’t want it to end up with you getting hurt.’

‘snow, i’m a big girl, i can handle it,’ you state, though your voice trembles like that of a small child.

you are afraid, truth be told, but the want you feel for him outweighs everything. you don’t care if he has a gun or about the fact that he makes his money selling weed, coke, e. you want him, you want to wrap your pretty lips around his cock, to please him in any way imaginable. your heart flutters everytime he touches you, or calls you princess.

the way he gazes at you reminds you of just how wet you are, panties wet with your desire, and you find your hand snaking between your legs when you think he’s not looking. you rub your clit gently, lips quivering around a soft moan, but snow is onto you.

‘you all wet for me, huh?’ he asks, one brow cocked. his voice is laced with desire, throat feeling a little thick as he attempts to be suave. for some reason, you’re making him, a tough, calloused guy, nervous. he’s got butterflies in his stomach.

‘uh huh,’ you mewl, spreading your legs as you lean back against the couch.

fuck, he could just eat you up. a sweet treat, wrapped up in a pretty bow, just for him. he groans, watching as a finger slips past your panties and into your tight hole. he watches as your finger, which is delicate and slim, struggles to penetrate your cunt. god, he could imagine how much you’d whine as he stretched you out with his big cock.

‘come on, princess, let me do that for you,’ he pleads, placing one hand on your thigh while the other wedges between them.

he moves your hand away, and loops his fingers round the waistband of your panties, tugging them down until your cunt is before him. he catches his breath when he looks at you, the way your folds are glistening, just for him.

he teases one finger through the folds, groaning as he feels your slickness coat his fingers. it’s unbelievable how wet you are, and he’s barely touched you. you let out a low whine, bucking your hips towards his fingers. you’re aching for touch, for him to slip himself inside of you.

‘please, don’t tease me,’ you pout, and snow offers a gentle laugh.

taking your word, though, he slides one finger inside, sighing as your tight walls stretch around him. he wonders just how tight you’ll feel if he buried his cock inside of you, going deeper, and deeper, seeing how much you could take. you gasp, but urge him to put another in, your lips trembling with wanton desire.

‘so fuckin’ tight, princess,’ he shakes his head in disbelief.

he slips a second finger in, and a whimper escapes your mouth, hand stretching out to clutch at his arm. seeing you squirming from his touch, still desperate for more, to ease the ache in your lower belly, he brushes his thumb against your clit.

‘mhm, god,’ you moan, head rolling back against the arm of the couch.

‘you like that, yeah?’ he goads, rubbing your sensitive nub in circles, watching your toes curl up in satisfaction.

you give a lazy nod, bucking your hips against his hand, arching your back as his fingers curl up inside your cunt. the sweet squelching sound of your slick against his fingers can be heard along with the pretty tones of your moaning and grunting. he feels himself harden again, mind dancing with visions of bending you over and watching his cock drive in and out of your tight cunt.

‘feels so good,’ you mewl, feeling your cunt throb with each stroke of his thumb.

‘can’t wait to fill you up, princess,’ he groans, the sound of your pleasure egging him to be forward.

the way his smooth voice caresses your ear makes the pit of your stomach fill with warmth, and plead with him to push his fingers deeper. you’re so close, you can feel yourself coming undone against his fingers, chasing your release.

‘want you to—’ you’re cut off by your own gasp, and your slickness coating snow’s fingers.

‘fuck, coming all for me,’ he grunts, rubbing at your clit as you continue to finish around him, whining a little from overstimulation.

when he slides his fingers out of your cunt, they're glistening. he sucks at your juices, eyes fluttering shut as he licks the sweetness off his fingers. you're completely fucked-out before him, body splayed out, legs spread. he wanted nothing more than to take you right then and there, but he had to practise patience, after all, watching you unfurl around his fingers was beautiful—like an ancient, lost art form.

'thank you, snow,' you very innocently press a kiss to his cheek, and when you pull away he thinks he catches the glistening of tears in your eyes.

he draws you back in against him, lips pressing desperately against yours. he hungers for you, tongue slipping into your mouth, the sweetness of your juices on his tongue mixing with your own saliva. you grasp at his back as your lips press hotly against his own, your tongues meeting every so often. you can feel his boner pressing into you, but you want to save that for next time; make sure it's memorable.

when you two pull apart, both your cheeks are flushed, and you are greeted with that uncharacteristic kindness in his eyes that he only has for you. his eagerness, and also his earnestness, suggests to you that perhaps this isn't going to be a one-time thing.

after all, now you don't need some exaggerated weed-dependency as an excuse to see him.

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goosita · 4 months

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when young!politician!snow takes you home with him…

its all wandering hands, squeezing and clawing when he leads you through the front door of his penthouse. he slams the door shut and pushes you against it to kiss you senseless again. his body presses into yours, smooth silk of his dress shirt sliding against the satin of your dress. he only parts his mouth from yours to sink to his knees, lifting the hem of your dress to slip off your silver stilettos.

“coryo,” you whine softly, already missing the heat of him against you. he looks up at you with a sinister grin, pushing the skirt of your dress up to your hips.

“shhhh, i’ll take care of you,” coriolanus whispers, dragging his tongue in a slow line up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. his crystalline eyes stay locked on yours as he leans in and presses a lingering kiss to the growing wet patch on your panties. the gesture along with the eye contact makes you shiver, a broken please falling from your lips. and to think, just this morning you were innocently making coffee for him in his office.

coriolanus has mercy on you, too eager himself to draw this out. too desperate for you. he slips your panties down your legs and pockets them, carefully lifting one leg to rest over his shoulder and wasting no more time. he dives into your cunt like a man starved, his tongue delving straight through your slippery folds.

you gasp and arch your back, one hand clawing at the wooden door behind you and one hand tangling into his perfect pale waves, curling into his hair desperately. the tug at his locks makes him moan, his eyes fluttering almost drunkenly as he laps at your wetness. his tongue finds your clit easily, teasing at it with eager strokes while two of his fingers work their way into your body. he curls them forward inside of you, brushing against something that makes you whine beautifully for him.

“such a good girl,” he breaks away to purr, looking up at you. coriolanus, still kneeling before you, looks up at you with his icy stare now turned stormy. his lips are kissed red and plump, shining with your arousal and his eyes gaze upon you like he’s worshipping you. “so beautiful, my darling. does it feel good? are you going to cum for me?”

he punctuates the question by leaning back in, mouth ravishing your clit as his fingers continue to fuck you in smooth, precise strokes. he watches you closely, learning quickly what makes you moan and gasp.

“yes! oh fuck, yes, coryo….” you pant, feeling the heat between your legs build. he keeps his eyes on yours as he watches, pushing you over the edge into an orgasm that makes your ears ring almost embarrassingly quickly.

coriolanus works you through your release, moaning low and gravelly against your cunt as you soak his fingers and tongue. you glance down in the haze of your high fading, noticing the way his hips shift uncomfortably and rock subtly against nothing but the friction of his own trousers.

“you taste so sweet, baby. you have no idea how long i’ve been thinking about this,” he tells you when he pulls away. he carefully slips his fingers from you and smirks when you whine at the loss, tutting softly. coriolanus lets your skirt fall back down to the floor before standing, taking one of your hands and lacing your fingers together. he brings them to his mouth to pepper kisses across your knuckles, letting your breathing slow.

“i think about you all day, every day,” he admits in a soft voice, leaning his head down to rest his forehead on yours. “its worse at night, when i have to wonder what you’re doing. if you…think of me. i wonder if you touch yourself, wishing it was me instead.”

his nose brushes against yours almost sweetly, in contrast to the lewd way he’d just devoured your pussy. then his words turn to filth again.

“do you know how many times i’ve laid alone in my bed and fucked my own hand, wishing it was you? imagining you spread out under me while i fuck you so senseless you can speak?”

he smiles when he notices the dazed look in your eyes, the way your body arches to press into him even after bringing you to orgasm with his mouth. you want more from him and he knows it. “would you like me to do that? hm?”

your eyes flutter and you nod, fingers curling into his shirt to draw him closer. his hand circles around your throat, not restricting but his thumb presses under your chin to tip your head up a little further, a little closer to him as he leans down. his lips brush against yours just slightly, but he doesn’t kiss you. instead, he whispers sternly to you.

“say it. say, ‘yes, coryo. please fuck me’.”

“coryo please. please fuck me, yes,” you babble slightly, feeling high from his touch and his body heat.

coriolanus coos softly, bringing the back of your hand where they’re still joined against his cheek to nuzzle into it. “you’re such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, pulling you by the hand away from the door.

the penthouse is so large, glossy marble floors and soft lights as he weaves through it to lead you to his bedroom. once inside, he closes the door and pulls you to him, bringing his lips back to yours to kiss you breathless again. you can taste yourself on his mouth, his tongue sliding against almost teasingly slow.

his bed is soft when he lays you down on it, after he unzips your dress and lets it fall to his floor. coriolanus pauses at the foot of the bed after you lay back, slowly undressing himself as well. you watch as he unbuttons his shirt and slides it off his shoulders, the way his hands make quick and easy work of undoing his trousers and kicking them away.

he crawls over you on his bed, caging you in his arms. coriolanus nudges your legs apart with his knee, trailing slow, hot kisses along your throat.

“you have no idea how stunning you looked all night,” he whispers, pausing to softly bite at your collarbone. “it took everything in me not to drag you into a dark corner and take you right then and there.”

shivering at his words, you cup his face and pull him back into another wanton kiss, licking into his mouth. “you’re driving me insane, coryo,” you confide.

“the feeling is mutual, darling.”

emboldened by his own confession, your hand wanders down to brush your fingers along the outline of his cock. he’s straining inside his black boxer-briefs, and your touch makes a soft whimper escape him. he’s so unashamed about the noise, grabbing your hand and slipping it beneath his waistband until you can wrap your fingers around him.

“feel what you do to me? always so fucking hard when you’re near me.”

hearing him swear like this, a man usually so calm and unfazed, urges you on. your hand slowly strokes his cock while you watch his face. his lips part and he mewls softly, rocking his hips into your touch.

“need to be inside you, baby,” he almost whines, gently taking your hand out of his underwear. he discards them quickly, settling his hips between your spread thighs.

his cock slides through your wetness a few times, coating him in your arousal before he slowly pushes inside your aching cunt. the sound he lets out is almost animalistic, his fingers twisting in the sheets beside your head as you take him inch by inch.

“fuck,” he growls, leaning down to bite at your shoulder. “so fucking good. s’perfect for me.”

coriolanus bottoms out and pants softly, giving you a moment to adjust before he’s rolling his hips slowly, making you both shudder and moan. his cock presses into just the right spots, making you see stars.

he keeps a slow pace for a little bit, building you up until your nails are dragging down his back and making him hiss in pain and pleasure.

“more, coryo. please,” you beg.

“whatever you— shit, whatever you want.”

watching him begin to lose control like this only makes you feel hotter, brain more clouded with lust. he’s always so poised and composed, but now you lose yourself in him as he does to you, rutting into you like a beast in heat.

“tell me you’re mine,” he growls suddenly, hand slipping between your bodies to toy with you clit. “tell me you’re mine and i’ll give you anything you want.”

“i’m yours, c-coryo,” you stutter as you rapidly approach orgasm for the second time tonight. “i’m yours, i’m yours!”

your obedience makes him groan loudly, biting down on his kiss-swollen bottom lip. he rubs your clit faster and watches your face as you tremble below him.

“good girl, f-fuck. such a good fucking girl. cum for me, darling. cum on my cock, let me feel you,” he grunts, delirious and pussydrunk. his voice, dark and low pushes you over the edge and you squeeze down on him, sure that you’re drawing blood from how hard you claw at the skin of his shoulder blades.

your orgasm triggers his own and coriolanus snarls and presses his hips into yours hard enough to bruise as he cums inside of you, flooding your cunt with his release. he pants heavily, shuddering and sealing the act with a kiss to your lips.

in the afterglow, coriolanus lets you lay your head on on his chest and he cards his fingers through your hair. his heartbeat is slow and steady, body pliant and tangled up with yours.

“darling,” he whispers.

you lift your head to look up at him, momentarily getting lost in his wintery eyes. his fingertips brush along your jaw before skimming down, lifting the snowflake pendant around your throat.

“we can’t tell anyone,” he says softly, his eyebrows pinched worriedly. “it would be…a scandal, to say the least.”

you nodded, understanding. coriolanus is right; you’re still his employee and he’s a powerful man. there’s all kinds of sinister ways the press could spin this.

“but,” he continues, the corner of his lips twitching up. “i’d like for you to keep this. to wear it, even if i’m the only person who knows.”

he lets the pendant fall back against your skin, watching your face for a reaction.

“of course, coryo. i won’t take it off,” you promise, smiling small. he mirrors your little grin and steals a kiss from you.

“it’ll be our little secret, miss y/n.”

#THE MOMENT YOUVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR #IF YOU DONT LIKE IT ILL ACTUALLY CRY LIKE DONT EVEN TELL ME IF YOU DONT LIKE IT #ANYWAY #politician!coryo x secretary!reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #tbosbas #bosbas #tom blyth #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth smut

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onlyswan · 10 months

Text

summary: in which jungkook’s new lip piercing makes you want to cry, and he can’t live without you.

> established relationship, fluff / word count: 1.4k

> warnings: mention of or*l (f. receiving)

> in which masterlist!

note: heh surprise :D my impulsive, jungkook lover brain couldn’t resist so here’s a little something 🥲

—

“why are you looking at me like that?” jungkook nervously asks as the excited beam lighting him up gradually fades. “do you not like it?”

you remain speechless with an unreadable expression written on your face. dumbly staring at the lower right corner of his lips, it is adorned with yet another piercing that makes your boyfriend appear more enchantingly attractive in your eyes — which are, by the way, currently blurry and dazed. your brain is still fuzzy around the edges, short circuiting the longer you observe the silver stud.

it infuriates you, almost, how he still manages to effortlessly drive you crazier for him five years later.

it’s extremely rare for you to fall asleep before 10pm, and to be frank, you hate him for waking you up because you know you won’t be able to go back to sleep until 3am no matter how tired you are. and you’re still not quite certain if you’ve already registered that your consciousness has been rudely pulled back into reality; because then again, you’ve always been obsessed with his lip ring, maybe unhealthily so, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that you’d dream of him surprising you with a new piercing just beside it.

however, there is a particular reason that holds you back from strongly wishing for that to come true.

“but you loved the ring, even the eyebrow ones… did i pick an ugly placement this time?” he wonders out loud with a frown, confused that his surprise didn’t receive the type of reaction he expected.

when he tries hard enough, he can picture them vivid enough to draw from memory… your eyes glittering with awe and adoration each time he presented himself with a new piercing or tattoo. you, showering him with love and praises that erased every ounce of anxiety he had about his life-altering decisions that usually came in the aftermath. what others would call impulsiveness, you named his fearless self-expression.

“ow- ouch- baby! what the hell? what was that for?”

with doe eyes struck by headlights, he gapes at you in surprise as he rubs his poor shoulder that was slapped without warning.

“why did you get it there? we’re not allowed to make out again until it’s healed!” you pettily complain with a drawn-out whine, knees bumping against his thighs as you bounce your crossed legs in bitter vexation.

“oh, shit.”

in real time, you witness the realization comically dawn on jungkook’s face, flabbergasted that in the thick haze of his excitement, he forgot about this excruciating restriction during the extended healing process. in his defense, it’s been forever since he got his first lip piercing.

oh, he’s in so much trouble.

he stares back at you, frozen and unblinking as he slowly speaks with a guilty wince. “ahh, you’re right… i must be out of my mind… i can’t eat you out, too… fuck, how did i survive this back then?”

the genuine innocence lacing his voice only fuels your urge to curl into a ball and cry in frustration. yearning for his touch while he’s not physically present is one thing, but this is much, much worse.

“stop talking.” you glare at him, angry eyebrows contrasting the puffiness of your face caused by sleep.

“you’re so adorable.” the endearing sight elicits a breathy chuckle from him, followed by a small whimper triggered by the pain that spreads on the lower part of his face immediately after. he brushes it off without care, muttering quietly- “come here.”

he carefully guides you to sit on his lap, sinking further into the soft mattress with your weight added on top of him. and for tonight, you allow him to manhandle you as he likes, not having the energy to jokingly pretend to argue with him. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him, only realizing how much you’ve missed him now that you’re skin-to-skin.

“don’t be upset, baby. i’m sorry.” he sweetly coaxes you into a better mood. “i will make it up to you after. i promise. i always do, right?”

with drowsy eyes still trained on the new jewelry that shines from the light of the night lamp, you sniffle and pout at him.

“and we can still do this, remember?”

the world becomes still and quiet, and the oxygen gets trapped in your lungs when jungkook holds your face in between his warm hands, crossing the short distance between you. your eyelids slowly flutter shut, lashes kissing your cheeks as his lips softly brush against yours. languid and tender, slightly sticky from your sleeping mask that smells like candy. he ends the blissful moment too soon with a gentle pucker of his lips, leaving you with a simple peck that will haunt your mind for the weeks to come, as if you’re a teenager who just had their first kiss in the middle of the dance floor.

“hmm, see, baby? not bad?” he says quietly, pads of his thumbs tenderly stroking the apple of your cheeks.

jungkook is too persuasive for his own good. the memories of you suffering last time are clouded with the new sweet memory he just orchestrated, and you’re almost convinced that it truly might not be that bad after all.

“but we need to be veeery careful like that for now, understand? so it’ll stop hurting and heal fast.”

and just like that, you’re a little more awake.

“does it hurt a lot? did you bleed a lot?”

hearing him say that he’s in pain made you worriedly react within a split second. his heart melts, and then breaks into two as he gathers all the self-control in his body not to pepper your face with kisses like he usually does.

“the piercer was good and quick, i didn’t feel a thing. but i’m definitely feeling something now.” he shakes his head, uttering the last sentence humorously.

“of course, it hurts now. you won’t stop moving… let me see.” you scold him with a roll of your eyes, slightly turning his head by the back of his ear to have a better view of the swollen flesh around the piercing.

“how is it doing?” he inquires after a few beats, curious and impatient with your silence.

and that’s when he sees that look on your face, the glittering eyes he was anticipating to meet since he finished his appointment the morning before. you grin from ear to ear, scrunching your nose cutely before giggles bubble from your chest. sheepish with your transparent delight, you hide your face in the crook of his neck, tickling him with your every exhale.

“my boyfriend is so cool, and so handsome. i’m so lucky and proud.”

that’s him. that could only be him.

jungkook, despite being elated by the compliments, can only muster a small shy smile. he carresses your hair lovingly, securing his tattooed arm around you as you threaten to slip off from his lap.

“really?”

“hm, i like it. so much…” you hum, planting a chaste kiss to the sensitive spot on his neck. “you’re always putting me through this, making me want to kiss you more all the time. this is so unfair.”

“baby, please. behave for me?” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut as if he’s in unmaginable pain. in his dramatic mind, currently flooded with love chemicals, he is. “if you keep talking like that, i will really end up risking an infection.”

you lift up your head to show him a grimace of disgust. “ew, pull it together. i wouldn’t want to kiss you with that.”

“tsk, you’re such a brat.” he calls you out with a pointed look, lightly smacking your thigh, revealed by your shorts that has further ridden up, before kneading the soft flesh under his large palm to soothe it.

you teasingly stick out your tongue in response, breaking out into laughter. and not so subtly, you squeeze your thighs together, grasping his wrist in a futile attempt to control the frenzied butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“have you cleaned it?”

“not yet.”

“then let’s do it. i’ll help you.” you climb off his lap as you eagerly tug at his arm, planting your feet firmly on the ground. “love, hurry- hurry. i want to see it in better lighting.”

exhausted after an eventful day, jungkook limply flops down, occupying the side of the bed that you’ve kindly warmed up. “you can go ahead. i’ll follow you after five minutes.”

“ugh, no, you won’t. you’ll fall asleep if you keep your eyes closed for another thirty seconds, and then i’ll have to wake you up.”

he pops one eye open, and then another, meeting your affectionate gaze with a silly grin because damn, you know him so well.

“i love you… don’t ever leave me. i think i’d seriously die without you.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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sim0nril3y · 5 months

Note

I cannot get enough of ghost and his little civilian reader!!! I broke my arm today (boo do not recommend) but now I get to rest and fantasize about my favorite cod men lol. How do you think Simon would react if his girl broke her arm??

Note: oh my, I'm so sorry to hear that you broke your arm, honey. I hope that you are doing okay and that you are on the mend now. Please try to enjoy your time resting and fantising about the wonderful men of COD. I hope that this helped bring you some comfort. Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, broken arm, talk of pain, talk of pain medication, hospital talk, canon-typical swearing.

Simon was cursing himself. If he had been quicker then he might have been able to catch you before you slipped onto that patch of ice. Maybe if he’d been more observant Simon might have been able to steer you around it and avoid the problem all together. Hell, if he hadn’t insisted on walking on the side of the pavement closer to the road then it would have been him slipping and you wouldn’t be in agony sitting on an uncomfortable hospital bed after hours of waiting in A&E.

Not long after you’d been admitted they had taken you away for an x-ray to confirm that you had broken the bone, but that was something that Simon could have told them with utmost certainty considering he had heard the sickening crack of the bone breaking. It was a sound that was going to haunt his dreams for months, along with the sounds of your sobs and cries of pain, they had been imbedded into his mind and even now were echoing.

After you had been returned to him Simon kept a strong hand planted on you at all times, as if you were something that could be lost easily. It seemed to deescalate his anxiety just being able to hold you, that was something you even noticed through the haze of the pain relief they’d given you that hadn’t seemed to kick in entirely yet as your arm still throbbed in agony.

“Oi…” You said gently, gaining his attention as it focused in on your arm. Reaching over with your good hand to gently pinch Simon’s chin and force his gaze up into your eyes. “Will you stop it with that face?” You requested in a gentle voice. “What face?” Simon replied as if unaware that he looked like he had been kicked in the stomach over and over. “That face.” You whispered, gazing deeply into his eyes and gifting him a delicate smile, even if it didn’t quite reach your eyes from the pain you were fighting. “Yes, it’s broken but accidents happen-”

In a sharp tone Simon replied. “Not with me.” His brows pinched together, as if internally scolding himself for his short tone. “Not… not with me.” He said again, his voice lower and softer. “Accidents don’t happen with me and especially not to you.” You pat his hand that was gripping your knee tight and leaned back into the pillows finally feeling the pain relief beginning to take some effect. It was just in time too because the nurse had arrived to begin to cast your arm into an uncomfortable position to ensure that it would set right.

After that they sent you away with Simon, some instructions for the pain pills and a sling to help relieve the pressure on your broken arm.

Arriving home Simon helped you through the front door, stepped inside behind you and carefully prying your coat from your wounded body. Then he knelt down and began to fight the knots from the laces on your boots. “I could do that, you know?” You informed him. “I know.” Simon answered before tilting his head up to look into your eyes. “But you’re gonna let me help you anyway.”

Gently you tugged your fingers through his hair and nodded in agreement. Simon helped you remove your boots and then rose up to his full height, glancing down at you as he cupped your cheek lovingly. “Let me get you settled, alright?” Coaxing you to walk in front and upstairs, Simon never took his hands from your body, keeping you clasped so that you didn’t stumble or injure yourself further. “Good girl…” He muttered softly as you entered your bedroom, Simon held you from behind and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your head. “Let me get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

A tired scoff fell from your lips. “I broke my arm and you’re gonna help fix it with your-” “Behave.” Simon smirked. “Fuckin’ brat…” Then shaking his head as he crossed the room to gather some loose fitting clothes for you. They were his clothes. Simon loved seeing you dressed up in his clothes, but seeing you comforted by them after your injury hit him on a whole new level. “C’mere… We’ll get you into something comfortable and then you can rest. Okay?”

Gently nodding your head, you responded with an almost teasing tone. “Yes, sir~” Which earned a tested look from Simon before he carefully began to undress you. It was fine until he removed your shirt, trying to move your arm as little as possible. The movement earned a noise of discomfort from you, eyes squeezing closed and not a moment later Simon’s lips pressed against your forehead. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He assured you gentle. “Not gonna let anything hurt you. Okay?”

You trusted him. In that single moment you knew you trusted Simon to protect you from any danger that would come your way. There was so much certainty to his voice. There was so much need to make sure that you were never going to be in pain again. “C’mon… bed…”

Now that you were dressed up in some of his clothes Simon lead you to your bed, pulling back the covers and placing you under them, tucking you in tight and ensuring that your arm was raised by a couple pillows. “Here.” He placed the remotes to the TV within you reach but knew that whatever you were going to put on you wouldn’t even last a couple minutes watching considering the way that your eyes were drooping closed now.

“Try and get some rest and I’ll make some food-” “Can you stay for a little while?” You questioned; your tone practically slurred from the exhaustion that was beginning to sweep through your body. “Course…” Simon agreed, moving to carefully slot in beside you, rubbing his fingers over your face, carefully drawing slow lines over your forehead, down your nose, coaxing you further into tiredness. “Can’t… can’t promise I’ll be… be good conversation…”

Simon chuckled quietly, kissing the hinge of your jaw tenderly and then requesting. “Sleep, babe. Get some rest for me.” He heard the way your breathing changed. He felt the way your body sank and your muscles relax and finally he whispered into your ear. “I will never let you fill this way again; I will never let anything or anyone hurt you.” He observing your peaceful slumbering face, knowing it was safe. “I love you.”

Masterlist | Ask | 09-12-2023

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alyakthedorklord · 9 months

Text

Bat Poker Face Training

Dick, Steph, Cass, Tim, and Jason all crammed into someones room, with a kidnapped Duke sitting awkwardly with them, kinda scared.

Duke: “Uh… what’s going on?”

Steph, completely blank faced and standing ominously in the corner: “It has come to our attention that you require training.”

Duke: “Bruce is already teaching me really well-“

Jason, also blank faced: “That’s bat training. This is robin training.”

Cass, carefully but without a single emotion: “Sibling training.”

Dick, face just as blank as all his other siblings: “It’s much more fun.”

Duke, freaked out by the empty faces: “Am I being hazed?”

Jason: “Eh, maybe. Scared?

Tim, not giving Duke a second to reply: “Yes, he is. It’s written all over his face. And while its okay to be scared, sometimes hiding your true emotions in the field is a matter of life, death, and secret identities.”

Dick: “You’re going to be flustered. Humiliated. Terrified. Angry. Relieved. Your vigilante ID dragged through the mud in front of you as a civilian. Someone worried about your civilian ID and you need to keep them away.“

Tim: “Not just as a Bat, but a Wayne. Some dinosaur at a gala is going to say the most out of pocket thing you’ve ever heard in your life and you’ve just got to stand there.”

Duke: “So that’s the reason you’re doing the creepy thing?”

Steph: “Yes Duke. You need to have a poker face that Even Superman can’t break. That even a Fifth-dimensional Imp can’t crack! And that is the purpose of our training tonight!”

Duke, getting the program now: “Okay. I’m ready.”

Jason, allowing a creepy grin to slide over his face: “Don’t be so sure. Because what we are about to show you… it has broken Batman.”

Dick: “Damian is too innocent to see it, which is why he isn’t here.”

Steph: “If you can handle this, you can handle anything.”

Tim, tapping on his computer, chanting under his breath: “the horrors, the horrors, the horrors…”

Duke, terrified of what Tim is about to pull up, on the edge of his seat wondering what on earth can shake the Bat of Gotham, what the family considers too awful for thier arguably LEAST innocent member to see, what vile images he’s about to be shown…

Tap. The screen lights up white.

Duke: “No.”

Jason, grin widening: “We’ll be reading this aloud, for your entertainment.”

Duke, trembling and inching towards the door: “No.”

Steph, vice grip on Duke’s arm: “There’s no escaping it, Signal. This is your mission- to stay completely pokerfaced through Real Person Fanfiction of us- the Batfamily. And co, of course.”

Duke, sobbing: “Please, why… why would you do this to yourselves… oh god, is that… is that… is that Kate with Bruce? She’s a lesbian! And his cousin!”

Steph: “They don’t know that, Duke. They know nothing. And the depths of a human imagination is comparable to the depths of the ocean… there’s some weird shit down there.”

Tim, without a single emotion on his face, least of all mercy: “I had to sit through Young Justice fawning over Dick and Bruce. Do you know what they said? About my own father figure? Right in front of my salad? I was lucky I was wearing a mask. I cried, and I cried in silence. They knew NOTHING, because I showed nothing. This is what you must achieve.”

Jason: “I’ve had to listen to criminals talk about what they’d do to the ‘Prince of Gotham’ and not twitch. I’ve had to listen to both goons and civilians play fuck marry kill with our vigilante identities and not move a muscle. I know this feels like overkill, but trust me, it’s not.”

Dick: “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it mostly PG. Tim? Begin with the wildly out of character and aggressively heteronormative Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman love triangle. Then maybe we’ll work our way up to slash readers and…” shudders in horror, “…batcest.”

Duke: “NOOOOOOOO!!!”

#jason goes all out #theater kid dreams #and torturing his younger sibs #batfam #they make a game of it #who breaks first #bruce hates this game so much #damian walked in on them once #batfamily #dc prompt #tim drake #stephanie brown #duke thomas #dick grayson #jason todd

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inklore · 7 months

Note

I’ve seen your reblog ‘“i’ve been thinking about you all day” as they’re filling your pussy’ and I was wondering if it was okay to request this with Jordan Li (established relationship)

NIGHTS LIKE THESE

pairing: jordan li x (f)reader

contents: foreplay, p in v, oral, this is very soft, it’s basically fluff with smut, both of their presenting forms involved, everyone is love sick and clingy idk | wc: 860

note: they're everything to me!! i have something much longer in the works for them but i needed to write something quick and yearny.

Your wrists are pinned above your head, their fingers twined with yours as they hold you in place, as if you’d ever escape them, leave them, or try to.

As if you could go anywhere with their body pressed against yours and their hips moving between your thighs.

Slow thrusts that make you feel every inch of them moving inside of you. Fucking you at that languid pace that comes from the frustration of long days and the yearning that pricks at one’s heart from being separated for too long.

Course work and keeping your rankings are chores in and of themselves, but living up to the expectations it sets is even harder. So if a day goes by and Jordan can’t have you pressed up against them, at their side, or at the very least your nose in your test books laying against the other sprawled on their bed, each of you doing your own thing: their day just doesn't feel right.

Doesn’t feel normal if they can’t pull you to the side in the hall and press a kiss on your lips.

Can’t get the death glare you always give them when they forget to eat lunch because they were too busy helping Brink, and you surprise them with dinner and dessert—the dessert usually forgotten and turns into you between their legs or vice versa.

Their days aren’t normal unless you’re in them.

They haven’t felt normal since the two of you decided to try this. To be together.

“You’ve rewired me,” they mumble against your shoulder as the two of you try to fall asleep one night. The clock on your nightstand glowing 1:00AM in big, haunting letters. Your night supposed to be spent working, but there are only so many sneaking glances and innocent touches against skin before you are both done pretending you want to do anything besides have the other naked and against you all day.

And you know that they’ve rewired you too.

Made the fucked up in your life a little less fucked, made the days easier to endure when there’s the constant pressure of greatness looming over you.

You could crash and burn, and you know you’d still have their support, just as they would have yours. And that’s a higher score than rankings could ever give you.

It’s rare the two of you will go a day without seeing each other, without ending up pressed together in bed—weed filled lungs laughing until the haze lolls you to sleep and you’re waking the next morning to Jordan’s alarm clock and the shifting groan of both their forms pulling their pillow over their head. Pulling you back down into bed when you actually do something crazy like get up and not lay with them for five more minutes.

But nights like these make up for days when you are both swamped and Brink needs Jordan for something, and you are stuck alone with your nose in a book or forcing Marie and Emma to get Vought A Burger with you.

Nights where there’s no rush. No need to go fast and get off as many times as your body aches for—as many times as the other wants to swallow and taste the pleasure each time you come against them, on top of them, or inside of you. Like you’re both dying of thirst, and only the others come will do.

These nights are slow. Savored. Like you’ve been away at war rather than occupied over a span of twenty four hours.

Jordan kisses you achingly slowly these nights. Let’s their tongue linger in your mouth for longer than normal, nipping at your bottom lip with gentle teeth. Their fingers stripping you of your clothes like they need to press their lips to every bit of skin they free.

And when their tongue finally makes contact with your pussy it feels like you can finally breathe. Like you’ve been holding your breath for days—all night—for them to finally soothe the ache that they’ve caused.

Their hips buck against the air when you switch positions, and your tongue presses between their thighs. A slow tease of teeth and tongue tracing down their hip bones until you’ve reached where they’re soaked, or hard for you.

Neither of you letting the other come until Jordan is inside of you.

Until you’re both sighing from that first initial push inside, the head of their cock easily fills you with how wet you are—how wet they’ve made you. Gasps breathed into mouths from that first slow roll of their hips.

It’s heady and fucking torturous, and you love it.

You both do.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” they murmur against your lips. Their fingers flexing against yours as they keep them above your head, as they completely take control of your body and show you just what they’ve been thinking about. “You take up every part of my brain, and it’s a problem, but I fucking love it.” They moan into your mouth; roll their hips in that way that has air whooshing from your lungs and your pelvis pushing up to drive them deeper.

#jordan li x reader #jordan li x you #jordan li smut #gen v fic #jordan li imagine #gen v fanfic #jordan li fic #jordan li fanfic #jordan li x y/n #gen v smut #jordan li

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luveline · 3 months

Note

Hi !!! Can I request something romantic between shy reader and spence? maybe he’s like trying to teacher her something and they’re alone? IDK WRITE WHATEVER U WANNA RIGHT ILL EAT IT UP REGARDLESS <3

Your stomach hurts and you need to pee, but you’re stuck. You’ve been trying to submit your virtual paperwork for the last two hours. Why have they made it this difficult? You’re beginning to wonder if you’re being hazed.

Spencer told you it was easy. Well, he’d put a cup of tea on your desk (for which you hadn’t asked but gratefully accepted), seen you were starting your paperwork, and said, “I’ll see you for lunch in half an hour?” with a knowing smile.

You’d smiled back. You want to be in the know with him, even if you’d needed a ten minute recovery period after he left to learn to breathe through your nose again.

But it became clear after half an hour you wouldn’t be taking lunch, let alone joining him. Nervous sweat dampens your hands and the back of your shirt, and your face burns with heat —why is the office scorching? You’re in hell.

You click another button, sure you’ve found the right process, but a yellow triangle appears with an exclamation mark inside. Function suppressed, it says.

“Oh, good,” Spencer says, approaching from behind, a coffee. “I thought you stood me up. You’re struggling with the system?”

“I wouldn’t say struggling.”

“You don’t need any help, then?”

“Please,” you say softly, worried someone else will hear you. You don’t want anyone in the team nor the unit to realise how inept you are. It’s bad enough that Spencer’s cottoned on. “I can’t get it to work.”

“I was kidding,” he says, smiling tentatively at you. “Let me get my chair.”

Spencer tortures you sitting beside you, knee to knee and arm over your arm as he guides your mouse to the right page, then the correct paperclip. His watch falls down his wrist and brushes your skin with each direction, spurring chills all over. “You’re pretty much done,” he says.

“I don’t know why I was so confused,” you say bashfully.

“Because it’s a confusing system.” He smells like warm vanilla. You wish you could ask him about it, but you’ve a job to talk this close to him.

“Thank you for helping.”

He clicks through the last part of your file to check for any missing paperclips before he sends it off. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he secretly hates you, he takes your arm into his hand with achingly careful fingers. “Are you cold?” He rubs at your goosebumps. He has really nice hands, with strong veins. He moves purposefully.

Another rush of goosebumps down your arm. “Are you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows tugged together worriedly.

“I’m just,” —mortified— “embarrassed about the paperwork. I didn’t know there would be this many online responsibilities involved, I would’ve looked them up.”

Spencer’s eyebrows rise as your sentence ends. You’d mangled ‘looked them up’, said it breathless as his hand curled around your fingers.

“Don’t worry about all of that. You can always ask me for help. Right? I sit right there.” He points to his desk. “Did you forget?”

Something about his tone suggests that he already knows you didn’t forget, but he takes your thank you gracefully, and continues pretending you’re cold rather than physically affected by his touch. He’s nice like that.

“Here, in case you’re still cold,” he says, too casual, draping his suit jacket over your shoulders.

Not that nice.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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princessbrunette · 6 months

Text

kinktober : oct 17th

captain price x handjob

one thing about price, is that his pants are always gonna fit snug around the crotch.

you’ve giggled about it before, laying half over his thigh in bed after he’d come home late snuggling into you — half asleep asking why he always wears such ‘tempting pants’ only for him to chuckle nonchalantly, saying something along the lines of “gotta give my best girl a show, don’t I?” before shushing you to back to sleep.

it became your favourite sight once he’d arrive home to you, his sweet doting wife, who can only try her very best to keep her eyes on his in conversation when his cock was practically looking at you first, heavy and visible in his pants, tight belt at his hips only accentuating the shape. you wondered if he was always half hard or something, or if he really was just that long and thick.

sometimes you couldn’t control yourself, you’d just wanna touch on him.

there’s no complaints from john as you lean up to kiss him slow and needy in the hallway when he’d arrive home in all his gear, your hand sliding down his stomach and caressing his bulge, a moan torn from your throat at just the shape under your hand. he smirks to himself, thinking you want something from him. “two steps through the door and you’re asking to get dicked down. y’think m’not tired, love?” he smirks against your mouth, fully willing to give you whatever you want regardless.

you whine a little, and as much as you’d love that— you’re just in the mood to take your time and play with him. so, you drag him to the couch and shove a beer into his hand, the full breadwinner treatment as you unzip his pants. “just wanna play with it. want you to relax, john.” you tell him sweetly through your eyelashes, holding that eye contact as you drool into your palm. he exhales, jaw slack as he shakes his head.

“i must be the luckiest man on earth.” he chuckles, low in his chest and you hum with a sweet little hazed out smile, lips still a little wet from drooling on your hand as you begin to tug at his cock.

“y’so big.” you practically mewl as you slowly stroke him up and down, twisting your hand for his pleasure.

“yeah?” he responds, lips against the tip of his beer bottle as he sips, voice slightly muffled into it and brows furrowed as he watches the movement of your hand. “fuck.” he whispers post swallow.

“mhm…” your voice is breathy and moan-y, and he can’t help but sit forward, reaching to pull you closer.

“you want me to fuck you like this, sweetheart?” he gruffs, placing his beer aside. you pant, your free hand pressing at his chest as you shake your head with doe eyes.

“just wanna see you cum like this, please? can have me afterwards…” you beg, not breaking the eye contact once again as you lean forward and drool, letting it hit the tip, your fingertips smoothing over it and massaging it into his cock.

“fuckin’ ell.” he scratches his beard, tipping his head back against the couch and spreading his thighs, the sight making you wish you took up his offer, but also glad you were being patient. “little minx, you are.” he smirks, his eyes still shut.

soon, his stomach is tensing, and he’s reaching out to grab the nearest thing to him, which happened to be a couch cushion, digging his fingers in as he pants. “shit, baby. right fuckin’ there.” he groans before spitting out pearly liquid into your palm, letting it drip down your wrist. you let out whimpers just at the feeling and how good he looked coming undone.

he finally comes down, barely aware of the feeling of the couch shifting beside him. when he finally comes to, reaching out for you and opening his eyes — he’s stopped in his tracks to see you with your panties off, eagerly using his cum as lube as you stroke your fingers hungrily through your own folds, whimpering. he eyes you with a tongue pressed into his cheek before shaking his head, regaining his strength as he pushes himself up to pin you on your back. “little fuckin’ tease, aren’t you?”

#captain price smut #john price smut #captain john price smut #call of duty smut #captain price drabble #kinktober 2023

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ttsukiimi · 19 days

Text

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ೋ ⎯ you request a spicy night of bdsm with the jjk men.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ೋ ⎯ gojo x fem!reader, toji x fem!reader, nanami x fem!reader, fem!sukuna x reader, bdsm (obv!), bondage, smut, unprotected sx, multiple orgasms (Sukuna), size difference, slapping, reader referred to as (baby (gojo), princess (toji), woman (hm..I wonder who…)

⟢ ⌒

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 was already halfway through tying your arms behind your back before he got impatient. But could you blame him? Your ass was practically in his face, cunt on display and he couldn’t ignore the hardness in his pants.

“Y’r just gonna have to be good for me and keep your arms like that, ‘Kay?” he mumbles into your ear, already reaching down and freeing his erection of its confines. Toji figured the half-assed job he did would hold you down anyway.

“B-but Toji, the whole point is you tying me,” you pouted, mumbling into the pillow as he pushed your head down. The fat tip of his cock soon slid between your folds, coating in your juices and prompting more slick to dribble out of you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he hums, slowly pushing himself in and hissing as your walls immediately clap down on him. “Don’t need to tie you down anyway,”

One more thrust and he was fully sheathed. Toji groaned, feeling your warmth around his dick.

He slid himself out and pummeled back in, his heavy balls slapping against your clit and causing a shriek to fall from your lips.

“Hm—fuck, you’re so deep..” you mewled, drooling against the pillow his strong hand drowned you into. Toji grinned smugly behind you and gave your ass a hot slap—one that immediately after left a red imprint on your cheek.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right, princess.”

⟢ ⌒

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 didn’t find anything wrong with the idea—rather, he found his cock rising under his sweats at the thought of tying you up. It didn’t help knowing how vulnerable you already were under his huge body most times, he knew you’d be absolutely hopeless and at his mercy.

Soon he was tying your wrists together, smirking at the little whines that left your lips. Though, he was enjoying this a little too much.

“Comfortable, baby?” He asked as he roamed his hands down your back, gripping the fat of your ass, and you gave him a meek but hurried nod.

“‘Toru just put it in already,” you’d mumbled, feeling impatience wash over you, pushing your backside flush to his hips and sensually grinding on him.

Stifling a groan, Satoru placed his blindfold over your eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll put it in reall soon.”

And he did.

But to your surprise and delight, the loss of sight made your other senses more sensitive. Your cunt quivered with every rough thrust Satoru drove into you, and your skin felt as if it were on fire with the way his rough palms grasped at your hips.

On the other hand, he was enjoying this just as much—if not more. You seemed to tighten around him harder than usual, not to mention the very fact that you weren’t trying to run away from every rut of his hips.

And he enjoyed the freedom he had over your body, snaking his hand to your clit, rubbing the nub of nerves in lazy figure eight’s until your body shook, overstimulated.

“You’re not—hah—supposed to enjoy it this much!” You moaned, feeling the head of his cock hit your sweet spot deliciously as he continued the motions of his hand. “‘S too much.”

“Mmm? Nothin’s too much, take what I give you.”

⟢ ⌒

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 wasn’t exactly foreign to the idea. He’s had his fair share of partners and has played into their interests, whether it be in bed or just generally.

But, of all people, his mind couldn’t process why you were requesting such a thing. You’re so small and fragile Nanami just about had to hold himself back every time you got intimate, scared that he’ll hurt you.

Thus, he gives it more thought. Or at least tries to.

But when you’re grinding so greedily on him, begging him in that sugary tone, Nanami can’t think straight. And in the midst of his seducted haze, he follows up with your words.

He ties your arms above your head with his silken and watches as you hopelessly struggle—feeling a primal need to breed you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos as he presses the drooling head of his cock in, watching your face intently.

“Ken, you’re so thick—!” you whimper, mouth agape as he begins to drive thrust after thrust into your poor cunt. Truth be told Nanami liked having your hands tied, but he found himself missing the pleasurable pain of your fingernails scratching down his back.

You squeezed around him so deliciously, causing him to groan. Nanami felt hot inside you, the rhythmic thump of him pulsing one that you lost yourself to.

It all felt surreal, the pleasure, the frustration of not being able to freely touch him—but you knew one thing was certain.

This wouldn’t be the last time.

⟢ ⌒

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 scoffed as he looked down at you. “You wanna be tied up, huh?” he grinned, beckoning you to sit down on his lap.

Stupid as it seemed, his ego was hurt. Why would you need things to hold you down when his arms did just fine?

“Am I not rough enough with you, woman?” Sukuna questioned, his upper arms set on your waist while his lower ones made quick work of ripping your panties off in one fell swoop.

You flinched as you felt the material rip apart but keep your composure. “‘Kuna, I just wanna try something new..” you frowned as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Oh, we’ll try it.” he hummed, your body jolting as you suddenly felt him press against your pussy. “Just my way.”

Sukuna soon had you crying and begging on his cock as you came for the third time that night, rasping lewd things in your ear.

Instead of a rope binding your arms behind your back, it was his strong hands. One of Sukuna’s hands could easily hold both of yours in a bruising grip.

“Ah, ‘m too sensitive, please,” you sobbed out, fat tears streaming down your cheeks as he reached down and began to rub your clit.

Sukuna laughed as he mockingly kissed your forehead. “Give me two more orgasms and I’ll think about it.”

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lovebugism · 4 months

Note

HI BBY COULD U WRITE A grumpy!steddie x sunshine!reader , they are all moved in together & its nearing christmas SO reader is the one whos decorating , maybe the boys neglect to see how excited she is & they end up feeling really guilty cuz they just see her putting all of it away 🥹🥹

ty for requesting :D — the boys catch you taking down christmas decorations after not being supportive about your love for the holidays (ditzy!reader, hurt/comfort-ish, 1.3k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Eddie rouses in the early morning, weightless and unusually cold. The first thing he notices is that you’re not wrapped around him like a koala and snoring softly in his ear. How could he not? The lack of you has always been innately palpable.

With his eyes still closed, he reaches across the mattress in search of you. He figures Steve must’ve pulled you into him at some point during the night. The two of you are probably tangled together and hogging all the covers at this very moment.

“Ow,” Steve winces groggily when Eddie accidentally smacks him in the face.

The boy turns towards the voice and squints through the haze of leftover slumber. He squishes Steve’s scruffy cheeks together with a pale hand. “You’re not Sunshine,” Eddie observes gruffly, still playful despite being half-asleep.

Steve swats him away with his eyes still shut. “Obviously not.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” the honey-haired boy slurs, right before leaning forward to shove his face into your pillow. His next words are muffled and nearly inaudible. “Bathroom, maybe?”

Eddie goes to call for you. His chest inflates with a deep inhale, prepared to shout for you like a needy child. Something clatters distantly in the living room before he can. It’s so obviously you — clumsy, well-meaning you. The always doing things you shouldn’t be doing on your own because you’re too sweet to ask for help you.

Both of them know this, so they rise from their sleep without a word shared between them. They find you trying to steady yourself on a rickety step stool, halfway crouched on the highest level with sparkling tinsel in your hand.

The two boys catch your eye, one as equally sleepy as the other.

Eddie’s hair has been extra fluffed by the cotton of his pillow. The wild curls halfway conceal his swollen features. He’s in one of Steve’s sweatshirts and a pair of thin boxers. Steve, meanwhile, is in a shirt so tight you’re almost sure it’s yours. The fabric has risen with sleep and his plaid pants hang low accordingly. The bottom of his tummy and the tip of his happy trail are on display for you.

They’re effortlessly beautiful. Both of them. But their presence makes you grimace.

Your attempts to do all this quietly have obviously failed.

“Did I wake you?” you whisper, just in case.

“Yeah, you woke us— what the hell are you doing?” Steve wonders as he rushes to you, very suddenly alert. He helps you off the old, uneven ladder with hands that are impossibly warm, even over your shorts.

Eddie stands ahead of you and takes the tinsel from your hands.

“I was un-decorating,” you shrug.

“Un-decorating?” Eddie scoffs.

Steve squints at you, features swollen and lined with indentions of sleep, still not quite understanding. “Okay… Why?”

“’Cause you guys said you hated it.”

“Hated what?”

“All of it!” you retort, still a bit vaguely, and gesture all around you.

The living room looks a little like the North Pole puked all over it. There’s an intricately decorated Christmas tree in the corner, perfectly fluffed and packed to the brim with vividly-colored ornaments. String lights are draped over the ceiling, and you’ve hooked ornaments over them, too. Every doorway is lined with sparkling tinsel and lit-up stars and ribbons tied into bows.

It was beautiful. Well, you thought it was, anyway. No one else seemed to agree with you.

You try not to let it hurt you too much, but the subtle ache in the pit of your chest is almost impossible to ignore.

“We didn’t say we hated it!” Steve insists with a wavering voice. “…Did we?”

Eddie makes a vague I don’t know type of sound. He leans his wild head to the side and shrugs once. “I’m pretty sure you did call it tacky, actually.”

“Well, you said it looked like a Hallmark movie threw up in here!” Steve argues without thinking twice.

The older boy squints his puffy, chocolate eyes. “Shut up, dude.”

“You shut up!”

“See, this is why I’m taking it down,” you laugh over their bickering. You smile despite your distant hurt. “You obviously hate it. Both of you.”

Steve sighs. He stops being annoyed with Eddie for a second to give you his full attention. He goes distinctly soft when he looks at you, structured and sleepy features visibly melting. His long fingers give your sides a squeeze.

“We don’t hate it, babe. I promise. We’re just not, like, as into it as you are.”

“And that’s okay! Right?” Eddie blurts from beside him. He crosses two arms over his chest and shrugs. “I mean, we don’t have to like all the same things as each other, you know? What’s important is that we all support each other…”

Steve glances over his shoulder and sends the boy an incredulous gape, half confused and half impressed.

Eddie cowers beneath it. “…Or whatever. I don’t know. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Well, I feel super supported right now.” You laugh but it’s a little bit forced, weighed down by hidden emotion. You’re obviously still upset about the whole thing — even if you’re trying to pretend that you’re not.

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry,” Steve sighs and wraps you up in his arms. He presses you into his chest, palms spreading over your back and rubbing gently along the length of it. He buries his nose at the crown of your head — you smell like a mixture of your shampoo, his hairspray, and Eddie’s body wash.

You hold him back but shake your head at his affection.

“No. It’s okay. It’s just Christmas decorations— it’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not stupid,” Steve insists before the words can properly leave your mouth. He pulls back from you, just far enough to hold your face between his palms. He smiles softly down at you, so quiet it’s barely there. His thumb swipes over the sleep lines pressed into your cheek. “You were really excited about it, and we were assholes. And we’re sorry… Right, Eds?”

Eddie’s face scrunches from where he stands beside you. “Hey, I was preparing my own I’m sorry speech over here, Harrington.”

Steve’s hands drop from your face when you turn around to smile at the wild-haired boy. “Yeah? Let me hear it.”

Eddie brings you into his arms next. His hug is tighter than Steve’s, borderline smothering as his arms cross over your shoulders rather than your back. He hides his face in your hair when you tuck yourself into his chest.

“I love you,” he starts, muffled from where he’s pressed against you. The end of each sentence is followed by a soft kiss to your head. “And it’s not stupid. And we’re sorry for being assholes.”

Your laugh is stifled by his t-shirt. He smells like smoke and Steve’s body wash and your perfume.

“That’s exactly what I said,” Steve whines, his pout evident in his voice.

“Yeah, but I said ‘I love you,’” Eddie argues like a child. “So I win.”

“Well, guess what— I love you too, babe.”

You laugh again. It’s more audible this time when you pull away and turn to Steve, grinning all stupid as you grab his arm to drag him over. “I forgive both of you, so you both win,” you assure when the honey-haired boy towers over your back to join your embrace. With both of them holding you like this, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so safe.

“Ha!” you hear Steve scoff, followed by a smacking kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

The wild-haired boy rolls his eyes and pulls slightly back to look at you. “Want us to help you hang all this stuff back up?” he wonders, then cuts himself off. “Actually. Nope. We’re gonna help you hang all this stuff back up. Whether you like it or not, Sunshine.”

He’s always called you that. He said it was because of your smile, but when you beam up at him, he realizes he might’ve gotten it all wrong. You’re brighter than the sun — than a thousand suns — and if he had to choose between sunlight and the way you’re looking at him right now, he’d choose you in every lifetime.

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the-oblivious-writer · 26 days

Text

Too Sweet

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Drabble

Summary: You and Wednesday were simply night and day, contrasting personalities preventing any chance of pursuit

Warning(s): No dialogue, pining!Wednesday, & no pronouns but the word 'goddess' is used once

Notes: Based off of 'Too Sweet' by the lovely Andrew Hozier, this song feels wenclair coded - hopefully I get the energy to edit them to it one day. This is my first time writing for Wednesday, so constructive criticism is more than welcome, and much appreciated! 🙏 (as it always is)

Wednesday despised you. She loathed every cell in your body, every word you spoke, every path you chose. Yet no matter how deep her hatred for you ran, it was all out of pure spite.

You were close friends with Enid, so inevitably that meant you and Wednesday often found yourselves in the same atmosphere. Sometimes you and Enid would have sleepovers—sometimes with a couple of the others—and it did not take long for Wednesday to discover you were an early bird opposed to her late night writing sessions.

You always looked so peaceful while resting. How do you sleep so well? Wednesday wondered. What do you dream about? It’s silly and utterly ridiculous, she knows. But her mind can’t help but stray when it comes to you. You have shown your own concern when it comes to the Addams’ erratic sleep schedule, if you could even classify it as one. You have always said to others—including Wednesday—to live right, to go to bed before the daylight.

You wake up to watch the sunrise; it was repulsing how rottenly pure that is. You were drunk on life, a poet—but far from Wednesday’s brand. You had a bright perspective; it was naive, yet wholesome. Your poetry revolves around the optimistic, steadfast side of life—while Wednesday’s consists of more realistic themes such as death, betrayal, and eternal heartbreak. It was a drastic contrast.

Wednesday could never bear such a naive way of life, so she simply doesn’t understand how you do. It was such a frustrating thought, the way you went about. Don’t you just want to wake up dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze? You lived such a reserved life in her eyes; treating your mouth as if it's heaven’s gate, your body like it’s the TSA.

She wasn’t oblivious to the glances you spared her; it was an internal battle refusing to meet them. But there were consequences. Wednesday has seen horrific things, things she believes would force a person like you into abandoning their wide-eyed outlook on life; she refuses to be the one who corrupts you. She wishes she could go along, don’t get her wrong. You were a goddess on earth, inside and out; bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. Tooth rotting was what you were, but Wednesday did always deem herself a masochist.

If you can sit on a barrel, maybe she’ll wait. But until that day, she’d rather take her whiskey neat, raw as the honey in your tea, and coffee black as the ink you use to craft your sugar coated poems. Your sweetness was too overwhelming for her to carry, the looks you gave her alone were laced in your perfection.

Everything pointed to the evident conclusion; you’re too sweet for her.

-----------

A/N: I feel eh abt this one, but I need to experiment with Wednesday more if I wanna get used to writing for her

#wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x gn!reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams

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yuellii · 9 months

Text

flawless night, forevermore

feat. ayato, baizhu, alhaitham, childe, kaveh, raiden ei ( separate )

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they are so obviously in love with you

( or, in which i tie them to a taylor song i’ve been crazing over, but you don’t have to know the songs to read / understand )

note. reader’s gender unspecified, no other warnings

> part one / part two ( more characters )

KAMISATO AYATO. lover

His lips curled up with a fathomless fondness he did not even notice about himself. His ticklish gaze, his admiring eyes, his comforting silence—such a poor, poor man drowning in his hopelessness, falling love struck into the night.

Even atop the dewy grass that stained his carefully tailored clothes, he paid no mind to the mess as he preferred to hear you talk instead. The intelligence of a Kamisato was long forgone in the melody of your voice, and perhaps you had strum his heartstrings too much to the point he loses his senses. He forgets a lot of things about himself when he’s with you, perhaps at one point, even his own name.

Kamisato, the name that ties him to a lifetime of formality and not a single night of rest. A dreary lifetime that does not allow him to learn the wonders of love. But oh, how he loves you.

“I’ve always wanted one of those cute little tea tables,” you muttered into the cool winds under the glowing moon. Your finger absentmindedly traced an oval into the air, a motion that had his head following your invisible drawing. “We can sit together in the mornings and have tea before work.”

“Then we’ll get one,” Ayato affirmed. He failed to notice how his own grin had widened, simply as an automatic reaction from seeing your pleased smile at his response. “Little cushions for us to sit in, too,” he added on. “You know those round ones? We can have them in our favorite colors.”

Look at him, blushing over silly cushions.

There’s a dazzling haze in his eyes when he’s like this. It’s a spark that never runs out once ignited, for he has a history of rambling when he’s with you. “There is this porcelain tea set we can get, which has a pattern I know you’ll like,” he’ll say, further jumping to “And it comes in a set of four—we can always invite Ayaka and Thoma over to drink with us.” He’ll go on and on like this, fantasizing of a life where you lived together, happily ever after.

He’s imagined this for eons in his head. Such innocent-presenting ideas and remarks, but it’s obvious in the way he talks so fast. It’s ridiculously evident the more excited he gets as the night stretches on, that he’s been daydreaming of the moment you move in with him, so he may love you every day.

All he asks is to be forever yours, for as long as time permits.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

BAIZHU. sparks fly

It almost never rained in Liyue.

But his words were such a booming thunderstorm that no water droplet could ever compare, even amidst this cold, grey afternoon. And only when he finally blew you away like a thin stack of cards, did he feel a sharp sense of emptiness at the sight of you running off into the pouring rain.

Baizhu admitted that you were a burden to him. Boring, unintelligent, annoying—that you were a hindrance to be around. You were only a distraction to Qiqi, and more importantly, a bothersome presence to him.

It took all his willpower just to spit such venom from his tongue straight to your face—all his might just to convince you that seeing him is a bad idea. And yet, you still called him a liar.

“You mean none of those words,” you sharply inhaled via short, speechless breaths. He could tell you were breaking down from his hateful speech, but to his guilt, it was exactly what he wanted to see from you. “You’re just trying to drive me away again,” you spat out. You were trying to convince yourself: that fact alone was clear to him. But the longer he stayed quiet despite biting back the truth—biting back that he has fallen so immensely deep in love with you—you began to doubt yourself.

But the moment he watched your figure break down past this storm, he immediately crumbled with a sense of guilt much stronger than any curse he has ever wished upon himself.

Perhaps he was too harsh on you. Archons, perhaps he was too mean—this was exactly why he didn’t deserve you. You deserved better than such a sick, lowly man who could not even live for himself, instead binding his life to save others instead.

But still, even after all his own revelations and realization of his nonexistent self worth…

He was still a greedy, selfish man.

And that selfishness had him running right out of his door and into the pouring rain, not caring at how the sudden cold nipped and picked at his skin, or how the winds beat at his frail body. Not even the Archons could halt such a starvation for salvation—it was the only spark he had left to chase.

In this cold, dreary life—in this cold, dreary day alone—you still shone like the sun under the dim streetlights of Liyue upon this pale grey sky. His body still eased the moment you caught his eye, almost as if your gaze alone had suddenly removed every drop of sickness he self-injected into his own bloodstream, or as if you were the cure he was looking for all his life.

Such selfishness once again had his body fighting from collapsing when he desperately fell into your arms that held him so dearly. And the greed of mankind only snapped when found his lips settled so hopelessly against yours, clinging onto your kiss as if he would die tonight.

Truly, maybe he would. But for now, in your embrace, he feels the strongest he’s ever been since he sold his soul.

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ALHAITHAM. enchanted

Archons, he hated these events, though he had no choice but to attend. No one could ever allow the Acting Grand Sage, even if he held so much spite, to escape the demeaning eyes of Sumerean publicity.

Alhaitham held himself as an independent soul. But this formalwear, this clanging of champagne glasses, this suffocating air—were definitely not so independent nor free.

This hall of aspiring young scholars and old men, all in one exhibit for the sake of research and networking. Academics is what they acclaim, but the Acting Grand Sage may be too thick of a personality for them (if he had one at all). But the only thing keeping his eyes open from boredom, quite surprisingly a person, was you.

You, who looked young compared to these much older alumni and long-time scholars. And it was truly you, out of the many faces in this room, who he could not name.

Your eyes met from across the room. Such a sliver of a chance—his eyes whispered a curious glance from the opposite wall among this dreary sea of scholars. There was a spark graced by the Electro Archon, perhaps; or maybe even a gush of wind from the God of Anemo. But every sense of composure was lost when his body moved on its own, walking himself closer and closer just to meet you.

It begins with hello; it always does. It continues with quick remarks, with “I’ve never seen you before,” and with “Have we met?” And soon enough, he feels like he’s in school again. He feels a flutter he has not known in years, an urge to talk quicker than he can think. The crinkle at the corner of your eyes has him immersed in amazement. The sole fact that you can crack a smile at him; a smile that wasn’t fake politeness like all these scholars.

For some reason unbeknownst to him, that expression of yours alone had his feet glued to the floor, like you’ve trapped him in such an engaging conversation he desperately could not let go. It was a forcibly dreadful night—you turned it flawlessly enchanting in a way that you read to him like a book, all in which he could not put you down once he begins.

And once the event ends, and he is forced to leave you so soon, he watches you walk away with an expression that he himself could not even read.

Wonderstuck.

He would never notice the light tint on his face, staining his cheeks all the way home.

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CHILDE. cruel summer

Left foot, right foot, tiptoe, right foot—hold the counter, hold the wall, hold the rail all the way up the steps… He’s got this.

One step down the hall, another foot down, a third one until he finds a steady rhythm. The room is hazy, the walls are spinning. His head hurts and he feels like a baby taking his first steps, so helpless and unsteady that he almost wants to cry again from exasperated frustration alone. Why was this so hard? Did he really hate himself so much, that he would stagger his way home from the bar like this?

One hand on the door, turn the knob, and—

Ah. He dropped his keys so loudly on the floor.

You woke up with a start from the bedside, immediately turning to him wide-eyed in both starling surprise from the noise, and more importantly, concern. He didn’t mean to wake you. He hated feeling guilty, but it was the exact feeling that crept up his spine once he saw the devastated look on your face. Frenzied eyes and dark circles—clearly you had stayed up just to wait for him, too.

“Ajax,” you voiced—a tone full of worry and heavy exhaustion, God, he felt so horrible. “Oh, Ajax, come here.”

As much as he didn’t like it when you cared for him like this, he was not immune to the sounds of your calling. His shaky legs carried him immediately, as if the alcohol in his system was pulling him towards you, too. “I’m fine,” he barely stuttered out. It was a claim he had to make immediately, a sign he was desperate to reassure you.

Your eyes grew heavier, though he did not know if they were lidded from concern or from sleepiness. Either way, he practically melted from the touch of your palms resting against his cheeks. So warm, but a much more pleasant warmth than the burning summer air that he just walked in, all the way home with a liquor-dazed mind.

“Have you been crying…?” Ah, and that was why your eyes were narrow—they were squinting at the sorry stains of tears that lined his cheeks. He forgot to wipe them, it seemed. It was almost laughable.

“No, just sweat from the heat.”

Crying over you… He’d never let you know that. To cry, to bleed, to die—you would never be the first person he tells.

“You reek of liquor…” Quite disgustingly so, he thinks. And yet, you still held his face so fondly, moving his head in such a gentle manner as you swiped his tear stains with the pads of your thumbs.

He stayed silent. He had no answer to this one.

“I love you,” he mutters, though it’s a confession nevertheless. And he says it so sadly—so miserably that you couldn’t help but sigh. He hates it, too. He hates it when you sigh. Because when you sigh, it means you’ll just let it go; No matter how many lies he tells, or how many times he cries, or how many secrets he keeps, you’ll still accept him like always.

“I love you, too.” And that was the worst line he’s ever heard.

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KAVEH. foolish ones

“Oh, woe is me…” Loves me, loves me not, loves me… “Did you happen to see anything in the mailbox?”

His roommate stared. “Go check it yourself.”

Kaveh heavily sighed. He couldn’t; He physically could not bear to do it. It’s not that he was lazy to get up, no. The real issue was the genuine grief he would feel when he opened the mailbox, only to see nothing inside. No special gifts, no romantic letters, and absolutely no confessions of love signed with your name.

It was embarrassing, really. To feel this dramatic and obsessed with words of admiration from you—oh, especially when Alhaitham found out about this whole lovesick ordeal. But he could not help his mind from just imagining it: the reflection of himself in your eyes as you finally confess your feelings of passion and love for him (feelings that didn’t exist, feelings he merely imagined you having, all so pathetically).

But he’s so weird, and he’s so terrible. To imagine a fabled life with you when you probably did not think about him this same way. How foolish. Did you daydream about him like he daydreamed about you every night before he slept? Did you think about him like he thought about you every time he sees your favorite color in the passing? Did you wait at your mailbox like he waited for any letters from you? No. No, you didn’t.

And he’s cried, quite humiliatingly. He’s cried that the perfect life he could picture himself having with you at his side would never be a reality. He’s cried a downpour of tears, simply because he allowed himself to be so caught up in a delusion that was so sick of him to conjure up.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“So sorry Kaveh, I already have plans…”

Plans with someone else. No wonder you hadn’t written him any messages, or contacted him in a while. That… was not the scenes he had in his head. His imaginations, his hopes, his dreams—they did not have someone else in them. For someone he was so hopelessly in love with, he felt so much hurt. A foolish lesson to be learned by a foolish romantic.

In the end, he’d just be talking himself to sleep again. He’d just smile at the sight of you flourishing. Without him, your world will go on turning. A world full of reciprocated love and devotion, one that he would never know.

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RAIDEN EI. you belong with me

The Raiden Shogun was self-destructive. No more than a few people knew of such a fact, but she was certainly one of them.

Because if she cared for her own wellbeing, truly, then she would not fall for selfish desires. Nor, would she be here now, sitting next to you outside a sliding screen in her private gardens of Tenshukaku, sipping your favorite tea and hearing your sweet voice ramble about something so unpleasant to her ears. If she prioritized her own emotions, then maybe she’d be living in blissful ignorance right now instead of listening to your woes over a lover… A lover that was not her.

“And then, she teases me,” you complained, though it was clear you hated it. You didn’t like whining about your partner, which was a good thing—but it made Ei feel sick, because it meant you really loved that woman. “I know she does that all the time, and I just need to get used to it,” you continued, “but sometimes, it gets too much, and she still doesn’t stop.”

But I wouldn’t do that to you, the archon thinks to herself. And suddenly, the tea isn’t as appetizing anymore, because her own words felt drilled onto her tongue, forever forbidden to speak aloud.

“Miko… Has always been like that,” Ei quietly admits instead. She doesn’t want to insult your lover, for that same person was also her own friend. She wanted to be supportive, but it was impossible when she was so in love with you, that she spent every second of each passing day just wishing she was in Miko’s place instead.

“Yeah… But—still, I mean…” You sighed, coming to a loss for words to describe the pink haired shrine maiden. “Is it really so hard to ask just for her to understand how I’m feeling…?” you whined in what seemed like genuine distress. Your face sunk into your hands, and it took all of Ei’s willpower just to keep her respective distance from a romantically taken friend.

But I understand how you feel, Ei once again thinks. She feels so dirty of a friend for comparing herself like this. I understand you better than she will ever.

“Ei…” you muttered. She almost chokes from the way you say her name. “What should I do…?”

Be with me, instead. “Don’t cry over something, or someone, you cannot control. It’s possible your personalities are just not fit for each other, you know.”

“But I love her, Ei…”

Ouch.

She clears her throat, recovering from sharp breath of air she just inhaled. A part of her just broke in that moment, and it was so obvious, too—her expression quickly changed, her body became stiff, her balance suddenly shifted, and yet…

You noticed none of it. Your head was too clouded over love for another woman that was not her; So clouded, in fact, you did not notice the way Ei almost began to tremble. The misery you carried only crafted tenfold for the archon, eternally unbeknownst to you.

But you don’t belong to her, anyways. So why was she crying?

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