18+ | nsfw | mdni
young!sub!coriolanus snow x fem!dom!reader
cw sub coryo, reader in lingerie, slight degradation & humiliation, mommy kink, premature ejaculation, not proofread
based on this ask. -- hope you like it, anon!
“And here’s the third set I bought,” you say as you re-enter the bedroom, wearing a baby-pink lingerie set adorned with tiny bows and ribbons. You stand in front of Coriolanus, showing off your body in ways that you know will make him tick. You witness in real time his control slipping away, as prior to your little fashion show, you had ordered Coryo to not touch you nor himself under any circumstance. You have to suppress a smirk as you watch him grip the bed sheets, his mind switching between spreading his legs or crossing his legs, as either position brought him great discomfort.
You twirl for him, revealing how the lingerie set hugged the contours of your body so perfectly. “What do you think, honey?” you ask, your voice dripping with innocence as if you have no idea of the effect your body had on Coriolanus.
But you know. You know damn well.
Coriolanus swallows hard. “You look wonderful,” he chokes out, fidgeting on the bed. “That’s a very pretty color on you, my dear. You have quite the eye for… l-lingerie,”
You beam at him. “Why thank you! I definitely think my boobs look the best in this set, don’t you think?” You cup your breasts and lean forward so Coriolanus could fully view their shape. You know exactly what you’re doing.
You can tell that Coriolanus is close to losing his composure, letting your eyes flick down to his crotch to marvel at the outline of his painfully hard erection. You hum with delight as you knead at your breasts to prolong Coriolanus’s agony. “Don’t my boobs just look sooo good, baby? You wanna touch ‘em real quick?”
Coriolanus’s legs twitch as a shaky hand slowly advances towards your breasts, which you obviously swat away with a giggle. “You really thought I was gonna let you touch my tits?” you tut. “No baby. Not right now,”
Coriolanus begins to pant, his mind going dumb with desperation. “Please,” he whines. “Please let me touch you,”
You stand back up, folding your hands behind your back so your chest pops out fully. “Please what, baby? Please what?”
He swallows hard once more, his breath shaky. “Please… mommy, p-please let me touch you. I need to touch you, mommy,”
Aw, what a pathetic, needy little boy Coriolanus is. The way his body trembles – so jittery – at the thought of touching you; running his hands all over your body, cupping your breasts and ass, running his tongue down your pelvis to your soaking wet folds, and then finally pumping his cock so deep inside your cunt that your cervix is sore for days. And you are denying him of that fantasy just because you find it fun.
“I have one more set to show you, baby – just be patient,” you coo as you leave the bedroom to change your lingerie. You then re-enter wearing a maroon-colored set, complete with a thong, stockings, and a bra that barely covers your breasts.
Coriolanus looks like he’s about to lose his fucking mind. You were so sexy, so fuckable, and all he wanted to do was bury his aching hard dick deep inside your tight cunt. You make sure to go extra slow this time with showing off the lingerie, hearing how Coriolanus’s panting turns to frustrated grunts and whimpers. You mold your hands against the contours of your body, running them up your sides and over your breasts.
“How’s this one, bunny?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
“Mmmng, fuck, mommy I can’t take it,” Coriolanus whimpers, his legs fidgeting as he tries to deal with the throbbing in between his legs. “Wanna– wanna fuck you so hard, and come all over your lingerie,”
You blow air out of your mouth in a half-chuckle. “You must be losing your mind if you think for one second that I’m letting you blow your load all over this set. This wasn’t cheap,”
“Sorry,” he stutters, his hips making small circles. “Mommy, it hurts. My cock hurts. So hard,”
You place your hands on the bed as you lean in close towards his face, staring him deep in his pretty blue eyes. “You have no idea how hot it is that you get so hard just from staring at me,” you purr, and you swear you could feel the heat of his arousal emitting from between his legs. “God, you’re so fucking pretty. Mommy’s pretty little bunny, just squirming and whining because his dick is so hard. I bet you’d love it if you could bury your cock deep inside my warm, wet, tight cunt,”
Coriolanus just whines. “Mommy, please…”
“Please what?”
“Please let me fuck you,” his voice comes out in tiny whimpers. You swear he’s on the verge of tears, his panting growing quicker. “I wanna fuck your pussy. Feel you squeezing on my cock. Please, please, I wanna fuck you, mommy. I wanna fuck you. I wanna fuck you…!”
It’s almost as if you don’t have to put in any effort in this relationship at all as you watch Coriolanus buck his hips and mewl pathetically as a wet spot appears on his pants, and the sight of him giving into his dirty thoughts is so fucking hot.
“Aww, baby,” you coo, tucking one of his stray curls behind his ear. You place a soft kiss on his forehead. “You’ll get to fuck me next time, I promise,”
don't be shy, let's talk. ♡
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NSFW below the cut...
Soap currently has you pinned against the wall of your entryway.
His fingers griping tightly into the flesh of your exposed thighs as he presses his chest firmly against yours.
Your breathless whimpers intertwining with his rumbling grunts as he continues to thrusts himself relentlessly in and out of your silken heat.
Yet somehow it's not the cacophony of pleasured sounds and the euphoric feel of him that catches your attention. No, it's the reflection in the mirror on the adjacent wall that has firmly caught your feverish focus.
His ass.
That impeccably round and adequately muscular part of him always seemed to catch your eye.
Even hidden beneath his perfectly fitting jeans. Your gaze always seemed to find itself lingering on him just below his waist.
But the sight in front of you now is wholly different.
It's raw. It's passionate. It's him.
And you can't help but feel yourself reveling in the way his hips continually ripple themselves between your openly spread legs.
You'll get addicted. You know it. And you'll let yourself fall into his habitual dependence. Desperate for another hit.
But for now, you'll savor it. Bask in the sight of his perfect little bubble butt thrusting into your hips.
(I'm tired and this probably sucks, but who cares. Soap's ass just lives rent free inside my head.)
To all my fellow Soap thirsters...@deadbranch @sofasoap @glitterypirateduck @d3athtr4psworld @astraluminaaa @mykneeshurt @homicidal-slvt @shotmrmiller @haurasha @obligatoryghoststare
Drabbles Masterlist
@ave661 this is all your fault (I love you)
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Bad news I just watched the VVitch and I have fae!Price and Witch thoughts.
You stand at the edge of the forest, the shadows within lengthening with the path of the sun. You hold your cloak tight around your shoulders, keep your eyes fixed on a single point. A crossing of branches. You've seen it once before, the way the leaves around them seem to twist and draw other branches in. Fae signs. Proof of magic in the area. Magic you want.
The shadows grow longer, the chill of evening settling in now, you haven't moved in hours. If your patience does not prove fruitful tonight you'll come again tomorrow, and tomorrow, until you get what you want. You have always relied on your own determination to make the impossible happen. Still, as you feel the sun's rays begin to sink below the horizon you feel your confidence wavering. Perhaps no one will come.
It's with the soft purple light of dusk that you hear it: the silent whisper of the forest. A low voice that rumbles in your chest, strokes over your cheeks. "What do you want?" It asks.
"What can you offer?" I don't want to be alone anymore, you think, tamping down your desires before the voice can hear them.
"The morning, the afternoon, the evening," the voice seems to smile, skirting around your perception, "a new perspective on the world, a pretty dress, a quiet hearth."
"Magic," you whisper to yourself, bidden by the voice to offer your own plea.
"For a price," it agrees, "You'd never know anything else." Not loss or heartache, never loneliness or isolation. You tip your head when fingers skate along your neck, eyes closing as they trace your jaw, grip your chin. "You are a pretty thing, aren't you?"
There's a man in front of you when you open your eyes. Tall, handsome, he has a beard to hide his mouth and eyes like the winter's sky. You blink at him, it would be polite to thank him for the compliment if he weren't fae. That knowledge doesn't stop the way your cheeks heat up at his continued staring. His rapt attention feels heavier than the stones you village would use to crush you if they knew what you were doing. Thank God they don't.
"You still believe in god?" The man asks, as if he could hear your thoughts.
"I don't know what I believe," honesty, you have the strangest feeling that you wouldn't be able to lie to this man.
"Is that why you came to me?"
"You have something I want," you tell him, "magic, freedom."
He tips his head, regarding you with a smirk, it's strange the chill the heat in his eyes sends down your spine. "Magic won't give you what you're looking for," he tells you in return, "but alright."
You can't help the smile that splits your face. Riddles or not, price or no, you're getting what you want. Something of your own, making the stupid choice for once in your life.
"I look forward to seeing what you do with it," the fae man tells you. You barely have the time to ask how you're supposed to do anything when you don't have it yet, before he kisses you. Pulls you in with an arm around your waist and kisses you as your fingers leave your cloak and twist into his shirt. It's a rush, like being dunked into cold water, your body filling with an unknown that seeps into every crack and corner. Magic that tingles and shivers in the tips of your fingers and the shake of your breath. He lets you go and you twitch to pull him in again, only to be met with a low chuckle.
"Next time little witch," he tells you, ghosting his lips over yours, "good luck."
He's gone when you open your eyes.
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