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nezuscribe · 7 months

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𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞?

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

part two of wanna be yours

summary: the aftermath of you and your husband's arranged marriage, but the better side of it. gojo satoru just loves you so much, that he's willing to bring down armies just for you

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, very brief misunderstandings but they work it out, eating out (fem!reciving), fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, he doesn’t pull out

word count: 6k

note: part two is finally done! and i think this is gonna be the last installment for this so don't ask for another part bc i will cry. as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading, she's the loml <3

jjk masterlist

there were a few things that changed after your night with satoru.

as he promised, he got a bigger bed for his room. he promptly ordered all your things to be moved in with his, and it didn’t take long for all your belongings to melt with his. it was different from what you were used to, but you welcomed those nights when you’d curl into his chest, tracing patterns on his bare skin as his fingers ran up and down your back as he listened to you speak.

mornings you would find him littering kisses all over your naked body, or you’d find him in between your legs, waking you up in his own unique (much appreciated) way. satoru was insatiable and you couldn’t find a bone in your body to deny him.

he smiled more, his eyes bright as he woke up to your cheek smushed into his pecs on other mornings, not wanting to wake you up as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulled you closer to his body.

everybody around you two talked in hushed tones whenever you’d pass by, obvious confusion laced in their tones, but somewhat glad to see the tension between you and your husband had simmered down.

“he seems happier,” suguru told you one day as you leaned over the balcony, watching satoru spar with one of his men, your arms crossed over the railing as you glanced over at the man.

“really?” you felt a faint smile tug at your cheeks as you tried to contain yourself.

he hummed, his back to the railing, his legs crossed. he was dressed in his clans’ colors, a black tunic embroidered with red stitching covering his chest. he had come around more often ever since the feast, and he seemed more open to talk to you.

the winds were picking up, the seasons were changing. it had been weeks since your night with him, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. satoru spent less time training and fighting, making as much time for you as he possibly could. you had your chair moved so that you could sit next to him during dinners, and in his free time he’d take you around the land on your horse, his face relaxed and gleaming whenever you’d turn around to look at him.

“well,” he turned to look over his shoulder, looking down at satoru, his white hair turning into a blur as he rhythmically and methodically moved, evading the wooden swords’ jabs with the agility only a seasoned fighter could have, “not right now. i think he’s trying to show off.” you snorted, rolling at your eyes at his statement (which was most likely the truth) and continued to watch him spar. sometimes you forgot of satoru’s rank amongst the other men, and watching him in this sort of state reminded you just how much he must have picked up on those years spent apart.

“i’m happy for you two,” he said after a beat of silence passed, offering you a genuine smile as he said it. he was usually more stoic than your husband, never giving too much information off from his face unless it was absolutely necessary, and catching him in these moments would always startle you.

“thank you,” you murmured, heat blossoming across your cheeks and neck as you kept your stare focused on your husband, not wanting to come off as too giddy. truth be told, you’ve never felt happier.

you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up with a smile and slept with one on your face. every day it seemed that satoru was trying to win your love in different ways. he was so different from what you had seen from him the last few months, but just like the old satoru you remembered. he was teasing, always finding ways to make you laugh.

“he told you he was going to be gone for a bit, yeah?” suguru readjusted his hair, making it so that it didn’t keep flying into his face. you nodded, holding tightly onto your clothes in hopes of preserving more heat.

“yes,” you blew some hot air into your hands as you rubbed them together, “he said you’d be going with him.”

“he’ll be needing as much help as he can get where he’s going,” suguru murmured, but didn’t try to hide his words as he tapped his fingers on his wrist.

“what does that mean?” you balanced your elbows on the stone railing beneath you, brows furrowed as he shrugged nonchalantly.

“he didn’t tell you what it was for?” if satoru was one who wasn’t above gossip then suguru was one who stirred it up.

“he said it was a meeting with one of the eastern clans,” you say, rubbing yourself. your nose was freezing. suguru nodded, which made you feel a little more at ease.

“did he tell you why?” you shook your head, indifferent as you looked back at your husband. he was shaking hands with the poor kid who went against him, barely breaking a sweat as he threw his sword to the side, a wide smile on his face as he looked up at you.

“business,” you murmur, not quite giving him your full attention anymore because satoru was walking near where you were standing, craning his neck to look up at you as he grinned.

“is he bothering you?” he called out, his chest moving up and down with labored breaths. he tried to make it seem like sparring didn’t take anything out on him and you nodded, smiling back at him.

“i’m about to throw him off!” you called down, leaning on the railing as you gripped it tightly to ensure your balance and satoru gleamed, suguru scoffing at the interaction.

“did you see me fighting?” he asked, and you wanted to chuckle at his words, the hopeful smile on his face as he wiped at his nose, the cold getting to him as well.

“you fought very valiantly!” and suguru thinks that without your words and your praise, satoru would be a mess, not able to function. he wasn’t sure how he did it months without it, because he doesn’t seem to live without it.

his cheeks flush a cute pink, and you want to bottle up the way his smile grows.

“you two make me sick.” he groaned, pushing himself off the railing as he made his way inside, throwing you a playful wink as he shut the doors. the sun was beginning to set and you could see the bits of night peaking through the sky.

you watched as satoru disappeared through the stairs, likely coming up to see you and you drummed your fingers on your arm as thoughts traveled through your mind.

despite his playful tone, suguru’s words left a bitter taste on your tongue. even as satoru found you, pulling you close to him as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips you couldn’t get it out of your mind. he led you back inside, talking nonstop about what his men needed to improve on, but your mind began going blank.

---

dinner that night was just as it always was, but you still couldn’t find it in yourself to push past what you’d been told earlier.

“i’m thinking of having a winter feast during the solstice,” satoru said, drinking his wine as his fingers played with yours, running down the skin of your palm as he absentmindedly pressed his thumb to the back of your hand.

“sounds good,” you said, not quite listening as you pushed some potatoes around your plate. you should have gotten past this awkwardness to talk to him about these things, but that must have just been wishful thinking.

“this year seems to be colder than the last, so i’ll ask shoko to see if she can bring back some furs from her clan.” he continued, oblivious to your state of being.

“okay,” you blankly said, giving him

a short glance only to see him in his own world, plotting.

“i’ll have one of the southern tribes see if they can bring any pomegranates in, and…” he trailed off, noticing your stare boring into the table. his fingers squeezed yours, bringing your attention to him.

“are you alright?” he asked, and you quickly nodded, plastering on a false smile as you picked up your spoon, wringing your hand out of his.

“mhm!” you scooped some vegetables into your mouth, spending an excessive amount of time chewing as you felt his eyes bore into the side of your face.

he didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, a brow raising at your strange behavior. if you were trying to be funny you had an odd way of showing it.

“do you feel sick?” he moved closer, his hands finding your forehead, pressing against your cheeks as he felt for your temperature.

you gently pushed his hand away, holding his wrist as your feet moved quickly in anxiousness.

this should be easier than you made it out to be.

he looked worried, finger itching to feel you again despite your silent pleas. it was second nature for him to care about you. if he didn’t spend half the time hopelessly in love with you, he spent the other half hoping that you were doing alright. he wanted only the best for you, and vehemently tried to make up for the months he didn’t do so.

“no, i feel fine. but,” you sighed, rubbing at your eyes as he patiently waited for you to find your words. you knew he wouldn’t lie to you, he didn’t have the ability to, but the way suguru spoke to you made it seem like there was something he wasn’t telling you, “why are you leaving? i feel as though,” you swallowed thickly, “as though i don’t fully know why.”

satoru sat back in his chair, his eyes squinting as he looked at you. it’s not like he didn’t like being asked things, but normally you didn’t seem this apprehensive about talking to him. he welcomed your queries, answering them to the best of his abilities, but he couldn’t remember the last time you seemed this nervous to talk to him about something.

and he knew that he should have told you this before you asked, but he put it off. his fingers ran through his hair as he breathed deeply through his hair.

“it’s with one of the eastern clans,” he started, taking another sip of his wind as his hands found yours again, as if he couldn’t breathe without having you near in some way, “do you remember that girl, the one from the feast?”

despite him not being very specific, there was only one memorable girl from that feast. the one that he disappeared with four half an hour before he came back. your jaw clenched, nodding stiffly as you moved in your seat. he noticed your shift in emotions, trying to hide his own as he continued.

“i told you what she had tried to do, hm?” satoru seemed a bit awkward in his wording, and if it were in any other case it probably would have made you laugh. but you can only nod again, his words nothing new. he had told you about it after he spent the night with you, answering your questions as to why he had left with her.

you could barely remember her name, but you distinctly recalled what satoru had said about her. how she had tried to come onto him, how he had forced her off. you hadn’t seen her around since, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t fully stopped making her way into your mind at random times during the day.

“ i had her clan cut off from trading with ours.”

if you were expecting any response it definitely wasn’t that.

“…what?” you gave a startled laugh, blinking as you tried to make sense of what he had just said.

he shrugged as if it didn’t mean much, as if that was the least that was expected of him.

“that’s why our import of sweet potatoes and eggplants has been lower than usual. but it’s alright, i’ve already ordered for the seeds to be planted in our garden. her father is seething at the moment, it’s why i have to go see them.” he cut away at some meat, glancing at you as a smile was forcing its way onto his lips. he kept it down, watching for your reaction.

you swallowed thickly, a feeling growing in your chest as you glanced up at him, only to find him staring back at you, a little smile on his face.

“she had the nerve to ask to be a concubine. i’m only hoping that in this meeting we’re able to get some more of their silk imports in, it shouldn’t take too long.”

you couldn’t find any words to respond with, but could feel a smile growing on your own face. you were the more compassionate one out of the two of you but hearing this felt like a whole different experience.

“that’s,” you tried to hide your giddy feelings, “new.”

satoru rolled his eyes, hooking his hands underneath your chair to pull you closer to him if it was even possible.

“and well deserved,” he commented, kissing your cheeks as you laughed softly, his lips soft against your skin as they found their way into the places he knew you loved most.

you tried to push him away, feeling embarrassed at the guards that stood by the door, knowing they were able to see all of this happen before them.

“suguru was telling me about it,” you felt his hands shift, lifting you over the armrest, his strength godly as he shifted you to sit on his lap, “i just thought that something else had come up.”

gojo hummed against your skin, your dinner promptly forgotten behind you as his nose nudged at your jaw, “yeah, like what?” he enjoyed hearing your shuddering breaths, the way your fingers automatically went to tangle themselves in his soft hair.

“i-i don’t know,” you felt weak from being breathless from so little, and we’re glad your back was to the men behind you, “but definitely not that.”

“it was the least i could do,” he said, “i wanted her banished but my advisors warned against it. said it would cause too much chaos,” his eyes flicked to yours, inviting, challenging, “as if i wouldn’t go to war for you.”

you felt the air in your lungs squeeze out, your hands gripping his shoulders, anything to bring you back to reality as his tongue poked at his cheek, debating some things in his head.

“out,” he spoke, loudly now so that the guards could hear, his voice commanding and starkly different from how he talked to you, “get out.”

while he liked showing you off, but there were things only meant for his eyes and his ears.

you could hear them shuffling to leave, looking over your shoulder as you giggled at their hurried movements, the door shutting behind them as they left you and satoru alone in the dining hall.

you turned back to him, his eyes twinkling in the faint candlelight, his hands running across your back, up and down your arms as you shifted across his lap, your clog rubbing on his hard-on as he sucked in a deep breath.

“you’d go to war for me?” you teased, your sweet breath fanning across his lips as his tongue poked out, his eyes glazing over as he scoffed at your ridiculous question. his hands settled on your waist, your skirts hitching upwards.

“i’d do anything for you,” he whispered against your lips, hovering above them as his eyes held yours, “if you told me you wanted me to ransack that clan dry i’d do it.” though he was a joking sort of person, you knew his words were nothing but the truth.

if you wanted, he’d burn down villages for you. he’d make sure that when the stories were written, your name came first. he wanted the masses to know that he was yours and that his every waking moment was spent in your presence.

satoru was sure the stars were shifting to accommodate for the two of you, and that it would only take years before he’d look up to see you there with him, splattered across the night sky.

“as much as i’d like you to,” you kissed his neck, enjoying the way he writhed beneath you, knowing that only you had the luxury of seeing him like this, “i wouldn’t want any spillage of blood to be traced back to me. i’d like for you to come home alive.” it’s not as if you doubted his talents, nor his strength, you doubted others.

“i’ll always find my way back to you,” he promised, tilting his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss.

it was slow, as if he wanted to savor every moment with you. satoru was cheeky, smiling whenever he’d pull slightly away to hear your sweet whines. your fingers tugged at his hair, warning him to stop.

his tongue pushed its way into your mouth, and it didn’t take long before the kisses turned sloppy, spit staining your chin as you slowly move your body up and down on his.

“you drive me to shambles,” he said against your lips, a train of spit connecting the two of you together, and it was sinful the way he looked right now. lips rosy and plump, his hair messy and his smile cocky.

“me?” you ask slyly, coyly moving up and down his dick, enjoying the way he sucked in a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your ass as you tilt your head to the side, “really?”

his hands hiked up your skirt so that it bushed around your thighs, his fingers pressing against your heat as he felt the dampness seeping through your underwear, his own victorious grin plastered on his face.

“really,” he confirmed, grabbing a hold of your wrist as he guided it to his bulge, watching your eyes gloss over, your pupils widening at the feeling of him, never really getting used to just how big satoru was.

his finger hicked your underwear to the side, letting it sink into your warm walls, your eyes rolling back, your slick staining his skin as he brought it out, tapping your lips as he motioned for you to open your mouth.

you did, watching as he pushed his finger in, his eyes darkening at the way you closed your lips around him, sucking him hard as you tasted yourself on him, your hips shifting to ease your aching clit.

“taste yourself? see why i can’t get enough of you?” he prompts and you slowly nod, not breaking eye contact with him as he feels pride swell in his chest, as well as something else a little bit lower.

“see how i can’t get enough of you?” you ask, motioning towards his hand, and he chuckles darkly, drawing his finger out as he presses a short kiss to your lips, taunting you.

“be patient,” he murmured, fully enthralled with the way your tongue moved around him, his dick straining against his pants, painful as it wanted to be let free. you could feel him twitch beneath you, growing harder, if it was even possible.

he couldn’t even be patient himself.

“then hurry up,” you whisper, biting his ear as he groans, pushing all of the silverware and cups out from behind you, lifting you up by your thighs as he made room for you on the table, setting you down as he settled in between your legs.

he pushed down on your chest and you followed his movements, laying down on the table, your chest heaving up and down, the feeling something you’ve never experienced before. sex with satoru was unlike anything human, and he always left you with a taste of wanting more.

your top fell loosely against your shoulder, almost undone from all of his ministrations, and some of the wine from his cup had spilled, soaking your white fabric red. it was hard to come out of this dining hall without hiding what had happened inside.

his hand fisted the top that covered your chest, yanking it off with a swift motion, tearing it off of you in a split second. you didn’t have time to scold him for ruining yet another one of your shirts, taking in the way his breath came out in little puffs at the sight of your naked breasts.

“‘toru!” you yelled, swatting his hands away as you groaned, looking at what was now rags, not knowing how you were going to be able to leave this dining hall with your dignity intact.

“what?” he looked as if he truly had no idea why you’d be mad, and then looked at the remains of your top, sheepishly scratching at his jaw as he leaned down to peck at the corner of your lips, and you begrudgingly let him.

“‘m sorry,” he whispered against your lips, but he didn’t really sound like it, “i’ll cover you in my robes, yeah?” you rolled your eyes, flicking at his forehead. he whined, back caught your hand, kissing just above your wrist as he winked at you. you could never stay mad at him for too long because he knew just what to do to make you forget about it.

“you owe me a new one, alongside the four other ones you’ve ruined so far,” you say, eyeing it with a hefty sigh. satoru nodded insistently, his hands wandering down your torso as he got himself distracted. his hands were so large, and you would never get tired of the way he looked at you.

“how ‘bout i make it up to you, hm?” and you didn’t have any restraint in you as you nodded slowly, knowing that you were the only person who could make him like this, the only person who could have the gojo satoru in such a vulnerable and loving way.

he began bunching up your skirt once again, sinking down to his knees as your back arched off of the table, using your elbow to stabilize yourself as your head tilted backward at the feeling of his fingers pushing past your walls.

your underwear was thrown to the side, disregarded as his tongue poked at your entrance, his thumb flicking over your sensitive nub, knowing just the way to make you go crazy. he slurped up all you had to offer, the sounds too much for you to handle, cheek heating up.

he took his time, wanting to make you feel every pleasurable feeling known to man as he ate you out. you would never get tired of the way he could reach that spongy spot inside of you that your fingers never could.

“you taste like so fucking sweet,” satoru’s eyes found yours, glinting as his nose nudged at your clit. it was too much, the way he ate you like he had never tasted anything better. he hadn’t and he was sure that sin was below you.

his other hand found your tits, palming them, squeezing at the flesh as he rubbed at your nipples, hardening against him as you whined, fisting the tablecloth beneath you as you panted, it was just so hard to get used to this.

“f-fuck, ‘toru, please…” you could barely muster up any words, his thumb swiping at your clit in a delicious way, his tongue prodding at your walls.

“please what?” he teased, enjoying the way he could make you unravel, the way that nobody else could hear the way you’d sing just for him.

“faster, mhh, shit!” you liked the way he obediently listened to you, his tongue and fingers moving per your request, and you felt your stomach clenching, your release threatening to come at any moment.

it was embarrassing just how fast he could bring you to this sort of state, but he reveled in it. he knew what you liked and disliked, how to tease you to make you cry even louder for him. he was a master in everything he did, and he wasn’t one to fail.

“who does this to you?” he asked, knowing he was fucking you dumb even without his cock.

“y-you, you ‘toru,” you couldn’t look at him, everything hot as sweat dotted at your forehead, “only you.”

a cheshire grin found its way onto his face.

“come on, know you can do it,” he pushed you further, his fingers joining his tongue, and it was just too much, prodding at the place that made you see stars. he looked just as wrecked as you, with your own essence smeared all over his chin, mixing with his spit, but he couldn’t have had it any other way.

“‘m ‘gonna…fuck, ‘toru, i’m ‘gonna come…” you breathed out, and it didn��t take long till you did.

the feeling was unlike any other, your walls clamping around him, your release gushing out, your stomach clenched, and your back arched, spasming around his fingers. he didn’t stop until he was sure you had ridden out your orgasm, watching the beautiful way your tits moved up and down with your every breath, the way the light bounced off your skin. you were a heavenly being and nothing you told him could convince him otherwise.

he slowly stood up, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he gently pulled you closer to the edge of the table, giving you some time to come back down to earth as he slowly tapped his fingers on the expanse of your naked skin.

“you good?” you groaned, hitting his chest lightly as he chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked more at you. he was so sure that the love he held in his chest was going to seep out that it made him worried, knowing that others could love you the same way, selfishly wanting you just to himself.

“you’re so annoying,” you say, rubbing at your face, eyeing the bulge in his pants, feeling your mouth salivate at the sight.

“you love it though,” and you couldn’t even argue because you did. you loved all the little things about him, the things he hid away from the public eye and saved just for you. it reminded you that he was yours and you were his and nothing was ever going to change it.

“i put up with it,” you say, watching him pout, his white hair all messy and his cheeks rosy.

“you’re so mean,” he whined, but only kissed the tip of your nose as he said it. his swift fingers made use of unbuttoning the buttons of his pants, hooking a finger around them as he tugged it down, his cock springing free as it hit his chest.

he was long, curving to the right. his dick was pretty, just like the rest of him, and you would never get tired of seeing it flushed red, leaking pre as he shuddered against the cold, biting air. his mushroomed tip was aching to push past your walls, and you obliged him, slowly moving so that your hands found him.

he sucked in a breath as your fingers wrapped around his length, expertly moving up and down in a teasing manner, your thumb swiping at his head as his pre stained your skin. his chest was moving in a crazed pattern, as if his lungs weren’t working properly, and he watched as your hands moved up and down, up and down.

“s-stop, i don’t want to,” he scrambled before he embarrassed himself and finished from just your hands, tugging your fingers away from his aching cock as you looked up at him through your lashes, knowing just what made him go crazy for you.

“hurry up ‘toru, i need you sooo bad,” you whined, your voice laced with something that made him lose all sense of control, and he quickly nodded, his hands gripping your thighs as he tugged you closer to himself.

it would have been easier if he had you perched on the table with your back to him, but he couldn’t risk not being able to see your face, the way your mouth opened and your eyes squeezed shut, so he lined himself up with your entrance instead, knowing this was the only way he could fuck you.

his dick prodded at your entrance, his bulbous head pushing past your walls that were still tight, squeezing him as he slowly inched your forehead, the two of you moaning in unison at the snug fit.

“shit, you’re so tight, how,” his lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes flickered over to yours, “how are you so tight?” his grip on your hips was bruising, but you welcomed the marks, loving the fact that when you woke up the two of you would carry each other on your skin.

“stop talking ‘toru,” your hands hooked around his neck, tugging him in closer as your lips slotted against his, your teeth clashing as your pussy fluttered against him, your noses rubbing against each other, “fuck me…please.”

and he did, pushing all of himself in, and your head tipped backward at the sting, gripping onto his arms as he let you adjust to his size, his cock twitching in your heat, and his jaw clenched, refraining himself from moving just yet.

when you gave him the nod to move he slowly inched out, his dick shining in the light, before he slammed himself back in, your cries filling the vast space as he began to fuck you the way he wanted, his lips finding your neck as you thrust your hips against his.

it was always delirious when the two of you fucked, your bodies meeting at one point that drove each of you to your own euphoria. satoru tried to be slow and gentle, but after a bit, he couldn’t anymore, picking up his pace as his head kept hitting your g spot.

“love you s’much ‘toru,” your fingers curled in his hair, your other hand scratching lines down his back as the squelching sound resonated around you, “f-fuck-” he cut you off with a chaste kiss, dropping his head to your breasts as he sucked at them, positioning himself in and out of you with all his strength.

“i know, i know sweetheart,” he murmured against your spit soaked skin, rubbing gently at the marks he left, “i’m yours, all for you,” he promised, his thumb finding your clit as he swiped at it, enjoying the way you mewled for him to go faster.

your eyes fall all over his naked skin, at the way sweat dots on both of your bodies, and the way satoru can’t contain his moans and whines when he sinks in and out of you. the sounds he makes are for you only, and you want to damn anybody who longs to hear them too.

“you feel s’good,” you kiss at his chest, his tunic slipping down him as the buttons and knots become undone, your fingers tugging them down so you could have more area to kiss and suckle at, “s’big ‘toru.”

he loves how your voice gets breathy, the way you can’t keep your hands to yourself and can barely formulate a thought. he fucks you like he hates you, but that’s only because he doesn’t know how else to show you just how much you mean to him.

“yeah? this dick makes you dumb?” you nod helplessly, feeling like you were going to go insane with the way his veins dragged alongside your walls, at the way your pussy was molding to the shape of him.

“yes!” you cried out, nails digging into his skin, and he encouraged you to leave more lines, knowing that once he had to take off his shirt for training and the men around his eyes the scratches on his back they’d know who left them.

“are you ‘gonna come? come with me, know you want to,” his hips are shuttering as if he can barely keep his release at bay, “know you can sweetheart,” and you whine even louder, his thumb relentlessly attacking your clit as your legs wrap tightly around him, keep him from straying too far away from your body.

“mhh fuck, ‘toru m’gonna, fuck…!” you felt your release come before you could even stop yourself, spasming around his dick as you wailed, creaming around his dick as the tablecloth bunched beneath you, the wine spilling everywhere as your husband came just seconds after you.

you felt his hot release in you, your walls hugging him in as your eyes rolled back, white dotting your vision as he pumped himself inside of you, keeping his dick in for a little while longer. your orgasm was so powerful that you wondered if you were going to be able to walk after this, feel yourself pulse around nothing as satoru slowly pulled himself out of you, his cum seeping out and sticking to your doughy thighs.

it was a mess; wine and cum everywhere, but your laughter slowly filled the heated room, laughing at the entire prospect of this.

“what?” he nudged at your jaw, kissing your cheekbones as he smiled at the sound, “was that not to your liking?”

you snorted, shaking your head as your legs dropped from his waist, leaning back on your hands as you looked around, taking in the mess as you heaved out a sigh, knowing that there definitely wasn’t any way to hide what you had done now. especially since you were sure that anybody within a twenty-foot radius could have heard you as well.

“it was fine,” you teased, watching him huff in annoyance because the two of you knew that it was far from fine.

“just fine?” he asked, scooping a finger into your pussy, watching the way your head fell onto his shoulder, smearing his cum around just for extra measure, chuckling to himself when he felt you lightly bite his skin.

“you’re painfully full of yourself,” you comment, your skirt falling back down as it hid your fluttering pussy, making it seem as if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb seconds ago, and satoru tugged you closer to his chest, his hands sprawling across the naked expanse of your back.

“only because i love you so much,” and he wasn’t lying, but you knew that his cockiness stemmed from himself.

the two of you smiled, your rings shining and you looked out the window to see the moon up, a chill running through the curtains, ruffling them as it hit your skin and you shuddered.

as if he suddenly remembered your top was ruined, now resembling cleaning rags, he shrugged off the robe that was resting on the back of his chair as he settled it across your chest, buttoning up the buttons for you as you let him work.

it had some of his military rankings on it, a deep blue that resembled the clan's colors, and you instantly felt warmer in the wool.

“‘toru?” you twirled some of his baby hairs around your fingers, your voice hoarse but soft.

he looked up, feeling awestruck by the way you looked right now. he loved the glow you radiated after a round of him pounding into you, the way your skin was shining and you had a content look on your face, resonating deep within him.

“hm?” his thumb ran across your face, tracing your features as he did every night, committing them to memory.

“come home safe,” you whispered, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you held his unoccupied hand in yours, your fingers cradling his larger ones, “don’t do anything stupid, please.”

he went to make a joke but stopped himself when he saw your serious stare, his mouth opening and then shutting until he nodded, smiling carefully, holding heavy emotions as he gave you a smaller, more understanding nod.

“okay,” he murmured, but you shook your head, not satisfied with his answer.

“promise me,” and he hated and loved the fact that he couldn’t deny you anything.

“i promise,” he whispered against your lips, bringing you closer as his tongue swiped against yours, your lips swollen and plush, just the way he liked it.

and he held true to his promise, returning only a week later with a promise of no sort of war between the eastern clan. but according to suguru, your husband had shed off his clothes when he had to fight one of their men, everybody around him, including the girl, had seen the scratches and bruises you had left for him,

just as he intended.

taglist: @chieeeeeee, @yxnjvnnie, @ladytamayolover, @iheartlinds

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x you smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru smut

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jiminscockr1ng · 2 months

Text

✩｡°𝄞📹 COVERGIRL 𝄞°✨｡✩

╝ one-shot ╔

╰₊ 𓂂➢ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

╰₊ 𓂂➢ genre: idol x model au, smut

╰₊ 𓂂➢ warn!ngs: unprotected sex, cumming inside, back shots, orgasm denial (kind of), oral !female receiving, slight pain (in beginning), big dick!jungkook, (let me know if there’s more please!)

╰₊ 𓂂➢ summary: you are the cover girl for jungkook’s upcoming clothing line, JJK. said man, just can’t keep his eyes off of you as you model his designs.

╰₊ 𓂂➢ word count: 3.7k

You almost break your fucking neck trying to pose in the six inch pumps you have on—

in front of all of these cameras, in front of all of these people, in front of him. But of course, like the boss ass, talented, flawless model you are, you stay on your ten toes. Falling into another pristine pose matter of fact.

The photographers take their photos of you and the staff on the sides of the room doesn’t shy away from shouting praises at you. You slickly slide your hands into the back pockets of the denim miniskirt that barely covered the curve of your round ass. Back facing the camera, as you turned your upper body to eye it.

A large quantity of “ooh’s” and “aah’s” echoes through the brightly lit room once everyone gets a glimpse of your immaculate figure.

Your eyes couldn’t help but fall on the built individual standing low-key in the corner. He’s been eying you for the past half hour since you stepped out of the dressing room with this outfit. Truth be told, this man has been staring you down since you took his place in front of the cameras. He’s only now mentally undressing you. (not that your current outfit left much to the imagination).

You’re sporting a black tie that hangs over the skimpy white laced bra that’s clutched your chest, hanging on for dear life. On your feet are a pair of plain black pumps and of course— the main piece.

That denim miniskirt you’re wearing. ‘JJK’ initials embroidered on the back pockets, the sides are laced together with black ribbon, and it’s just long enough to walk in— short enough to the point you’d be flashing someone if you bent over the slightest bit.

If he could suck his own dick for making such a masterpiece, he would. But Jungkook would much rather you do it instead, because damn… did you look absolutely heaven sent. ‘Second to none,’ he thought as he watched you from the corner of the room.

Jungkook knew that choosing you as the covergirl for his new line was the perfect idea. He fought for it, fought for you. Having a black woman as the cover model of the Jeon Jungkook’s brand new fashion line wasn’t something the board wanted to approve.

Other than the fact you are black, you’re a fairly new up and coming model, leaving you very little experience. Jungkook discovered your instagram account just a few months before he completed his line. At first glance he knew you were something special. Different from all of the slim, long legged, fair skinned Korean women his team had continuously suggested. There was absolutely nothing wrong with those women— at all.

But Jungkook was looking for something else, something new, fresh, something natural. As an idol, he naturally falls into a clean, pure and innocent category. Despite being a grown ass man. Jungkook desperately is clawing to get out of that box. He wanted to prove it and expose the mature side of him through this fashion line. So no, Jungkook didn’t want a put together woman, or a pretty princess, or even a grunge queen. He wanted a natural sex symbol.

The perfectionist that Jungkook is, he never fails to second guess all of his actions and choices. But you, no— he knew that he needed you.

Needed you to wear his designs, needed you to be his covergirl, needed you all up in his face… amongst other things.

To which you were more than excited to do. Like, be serious! It’s Jeon Jungkook. The man with the mouth watering sleeve of tattoos, toe curling wavy mullet, the gut turning physique.

When his team reached out to you, you were more than ecstatic. You wondered how god had seemingly blessed you with the opportunity to model for the a-list idol.

You’re a huge fan of Jungkook’s music, listening to his panty dropping vocals daily. So the fact that you’re actually modeling for him and the fact that he’s currently staring you down like he wants you to be his last meal has you shaking in your six inch pumps. The unwavering tension between the two of you goes unnoticed by the others in the room.

But the way your smooth brown thighs clenches together definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook… neither does the way Jungkook is holding that clip board over his crotch go unnoticed for you.

Shit. You desperately needed for someone to just—

“That’s a wrap!” You hear someone yell and you let out a sigh of relief. Quickly bowing and spreading “thank you’s” to the staff that approached to compliment you.

You make your way back into your dressing room in the back of the studio. First thing you do is take off the tight tie around your neck, then the pumps off of your feet, exhaling in relief when your feet meet the ground.

There’s still an uncomfortable feeling in between the thick of your thighs. Damn, he really got you all worked up… more than you had realized it seems. You slip the soaked laced thong that matches your white laced bra down your legs and it gets flung into the waste bin. Leaving you naked under the famous miniskirt you still have on.

You distract yourself with the gorgeous sight you see in the mirror, then a light knocking hits your door. Before you could even say “come in,” in walks the finest man you have ever laid eyes on… and the reason why your favorite laced thong is in the trash.

“Hey,” he whispers to which you slightly raise a brow. Because yes, he’s fine as hell but at the same time, who told him he could enter? “Sorry for barging in. I didn’t want anyone to see me near your dressing room.” You nod your head understandingly. That would be a nightmare if anyone saw the two of you interacting and decided to go yapping about it.

Which is why this just so happens to be you and Jungkook’s first interaction. How low of you to get turned on before a proper conversation.

“Then again, I couldn’t leave without speaking to you first.” He smiled softly at you, part of his cute bunny toothed smile beamed in your eyes and the butterflies in your stomach start doing flips.

You return the smile. “Yeah, I guess that would be a bit odd. Ya know, since I’m your covergirl or whatever.” He’s intrigued by your wording. Of course, you are his cover girl, Jungkook knows that. But the way you said it just now sounded so fucking sexy to Jungkook.

“My covergirl?” He sing as he leans his shoulder on the wall. Nodding your head, butt pressed against the vanity behind you— confidently. Because the sexual tension between the two of you couldn’t even be cut by a knife. “Yeah, that’s usually what people call it. I think it’s funny how this is my first time speaking to my employer. Scared of me?” You test. Jungkook’s eyebrows flick up at your ‘sass’.

“Your employer?” You actually let out a little chuckle this time. “Are you gonna keep repeating everything I say?” You sarcastically ask before slickly eying him up and down. The white, short sleeved crew neck he has clinging onto all of his muscles and the exposure of his tatted right arm has tears rolling down your thighs. And the black cargo pants that are swallowing his tiny waste makes you bite your bottom lip. But we must stay focused!

“No, just a little intrigued.” He says, pushing himself off of the wall. “And no. I’m not scared of you. Just figured I’d keep my distance.” He trails off his sentence as you boost yourself up to sit on the white vanity behind you. The miniskirt rides up your thighs even more (if that’s even possible), your thighs press against the vanity top makes them look even more attractive and edible to the man standing in front of you— he almost forgets why he came in here in the first place.

“Why’d you figure that?” You tilt your head to the side innocently. But absolutely nothing is innocent about it. You are purposely teasing him— in attempts to seduce him. See if the good boy, ‘youngest’ is as good as people say he is.

Ask and you shall receive, because Jungkook is once again picturing you without that skimpy laced bra and with your legs wide open. The thought has him hard as a rock underneath his baggy cargo pants.

“Wanted to keep things professional.” He forces out. The underlying message doesn’t go over your head but you choose to ignore it. “So what are you doing here now?” With that, Jungkook lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Stepping away from the wall, he makes his way closer to the large white vanity you’re sitting on.

“I just wanted to compliment you on the amazing performance you did today. Everything went smoothly and it’s been a great week.” He says genuinely and you gladly take the compliment, letting out a small “thank you”— to which he battles.

“No, thank you. You really made this whole thing come to life so really, thank you.” You smile from ear to ear at his sincerity, feeling overwhelmingly gratified and proud… and still wet.

“Well your designs are amazing so you should have majority of the credit— by the way, can I keep this!” Asking, pointing to the miniskirt that hugs your hips. Jungkook’s tongue slides out of his mouth, wetting his lips, slightly playing with his lip ring.

“Of course, it’s all yours. Can’t think of anyone who’d wear it better than you do anyways.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He didn’t even mean to flirt he just said what he was thinking and it remains true. You are the sexiest woman Jungkook has laid eyes on. And if he doesn’t get out of this dressing room right now, his balls might explode.

But in the midst of the internal war Jungkook’s facing, you hum. “Is that why you kept staring at me all day? At first I thought you regretted your decision.” You say and before you could continue your overly sarcastic remarks he interrupts with the rapid shaking of his head.

“I could never regret choosing you.” Your heart dropped to your ass at his words and you’re scared if you move the wrong way the arousal between your thighs (that has been lathered onto the vanity) may drip onto the floor. Without saying much else, he doesn’t let his nerves stop him from stepping closer to you— nearly in between your legs.

He places his hand beside yours that rests on top of the vanity. Slowly his hand intertwines with yours. His touch so soft; the hair on your neck stands tall. His eyes glazing over your plumped lips, layered in lip gloss that shined under the light

“You’re perfect,” is the last thing he says before his lips slowly meet yours.

You could hear angles singing from close range as you finally snag the taste of his lips. His lip ring tickles your lip, sending a shiver down your spine. A soft moan escapes your mouth and Jungkook feels like he just won the lottery.

His tatted hand glides up your thigh, basking in the feeling of your soft brown skin under his touch. He gently caress your naked thighs, spreading them apart to properly stand in between them.

You let out a little huff as you feel him licking and leaving open mouth kisses against your jawline. “From the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he says in between kisses and you feel his breath on your neck, making your clit pulse. “I knew you were perfect.”

You pull your lips away to look at him. The heavy breathing fills the dressing room as the two of you look into each other’s eyes, the similar look of need in both of your eyes.

You slide your hands up Jungkook’s torso, to his broad shoulders, resting them on his neck. Pulling him down closer to you, you say, “Touch me.”

Which was all Jungkook needed to hear before attacking your lips again, your hand wrapped around his shoulders as you slightly grind into his clothed member. You could feel the bulge through his pants, exciting you even more.

“Oh my god— Jungkook.” You whine when he bites at your neck. His hands move to your chest, caressing your boobs through the fabric of the bra you still had on. Until he unfastens it, sliding the bra down your arms with your help.

His hands worry themselves with the feel of your tits again fitting perfectly under his hold. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moans from the sensitivity of his fingers pinching your nipples. Within seconds his hands are replaced with his mouth and he sucks and nibbles on your nipples.

Your hips grind faster against his hard-on. “Jungkook, I need you.” You whimper impatiently. He removes his mouth from your chest, giving you a quick peck on the lips before smirking down at you which takes you for a whirl. Taking a step back he looks down in between the close proximity of you two.

He spreads your thighs father apart to reach down under your miniskirt to find your bare pussy wetter than the Caribbean Sea.

“No panties— are you nuts?” He exclaims with the raise of his eyebrows. “If I would’ve known I was talking to you like this I would’ve bent you over this fucking vanity once I walked in.” He sexily groans against your swollen lips. The heat between your bodies are making you even more needy than usual.

The two of you share breaths as your lips hover over the other’s. You gasp heavily into his mouth as his finger drags down your slippery slit.

He lets out a low groan at the feeling of your slickness and the feeling of his dick growing harder inside of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Making matters worse, you remove your hand from his shoulder to grip the thick bulge between his legs, almost flinching at the size of it. You look up at him with that needy look you have in your eyes that’s driving him up a wall.

“Then do it,” pulling him down to lick up his sharp jawline. “Bend me over and fuck me good.” You whisper into his ear.

Jungkook snaps, he pulls you off of the vanity, pulling you closer to him to taste the sweet taste of your lip gloss again. The kiss is cut short when he spins you around to bend you over the white vanity top, true to his word.

You let out a high pitched gasp as your bare chest hits the vanity top. He stands over your form, hands caressing your thighs, slowly moving up to your plump ass. His hand smacking against your ass echoes throughout the room and Jungkook’s dick twitches at the sight of your ass jiggling.

“So fucking pretty.” He says before crouching down, face all in your cookie. He bites his lips as you spread your legs further apart, desperate for his mouth.

Again, he drags his thumb down your slit and you let out load moan of pleasure from the sensation of his touch. Your hand quickly covers your mouth. “You have to be quiet princess.” The words smoothly passed through his mouth like butter making your knees weak. However, they actually buckle once you feel his tongue swipe through your slick. Your head lowers into your chest to try to keep your composure.

“Mmm,” he moans while licking through your folds, eating your cunt like it’s his favorite meal. “You taste so damn good.” He aggressively spreads your legs wider to attack your pussy with his mouth.

Your legs shake as you fee his tongue going in and out of your hole, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clit. The grip of his hand on your ass doesn’t let up as you squeeze your legs together around his head.

“R—right there! I’m gonna—” Your hole clenches around his tongue as you felt your stomach tightening. Just when you feel yourself releasing, he stops. He pulls away.

“What the fuck.” You curse in frustration. He leans his body over yours, gripping your hair to turn your head to the side. You let out a moan at his roughness.

“You’re too pretty to be cursing, princess.” He says against your lips before attacking them with a wet, sloppy kiss. You push your ass against his dick, needy from the absence of his tongue. You whimper against his mouth.

“You want me to fuck you bad, huh?” He teases, roughly brushing his bulge over your wet folds. He lets out a groan at the feeling. “Yes— mm! Fuck, yes Jungkook. I need your dick inside of me.” Jungkook places one last sloppy kiss on your lips, lets go of the grip on your hair and began unbuttoning his pants.

They instantly falls down to his ankles and he lowers his boxer briefs, letting them fall the his ankles as well, his dick smacking his stomach. You can’t see his length that he pumps in his hand behind you— but god, when he starts thrusting it in between your ass cheeks you can feel it.

It makes you nervous because you didn’t expect him to be so big. But you grow more aroused at the thought of him fucking you silly, wrecking your tight little pussy. He slowly rubs the tip of his dick over your folds, coating his dick with your arousal, layering over his pre-cum. “I hope you’re fine with me going in raw, didn’t really have me fucking you in mind before I came here today.” You nod your head faster than you ever did in your life.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just p— put it in.” He chuckles at your impatience and without a second thought, he slowly thrusts himself inside of you. Both of your moans fill the room as his dick penetrates your tight hole. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls back, just for him to thrust inside of you again.

The pain of his length ripping through you has your head spinning. As he thrusts again, he bends down over your shaky body to leave a light kiss on your shoulder. “You okay?” He softly asks and you hesitantly nod your head with your eyes shut close. “Y— yeah, just getting used to it. I’m… fine.” With that, he softly leave a kiss on your cheek before lifting back up and thrusting into you again.

He whisper out curses as your tight pussy swallows his dick and he relishes the sight of it.

After a few more thrusts the pain subsides and it is quickly replaced with the feeling of pleasure. Jungkook, wraps his hand under you to caress your tit as he continues to plunge himself deeper into your sex.

“Faster p— please,” you whisper out and you couldn’t even brace yourself for the next thrust. His hard dick hits your spot and your knees give out on you. He holds your waist out with his hands as he continuously abuses your hole. Your bodies jerk forward with each thrust.

“Your pussy feels so good around my dick, _______.” He says and you let out another high moan— hitting notes you’ve never hit before. He roughly grabs your hair again, lifting you up to make your back arch. You can see the both of you through the mirror, you can see him fucking you dirty, the way his eyebrows furrow looking down at the way your cunt swallows his length, the sight gets you even more aroused— if that’s even possible.

He finally looks up at you through the mirror. He sends you a smirk before going absolutely feral. “Hold on for me, princess.” His grip on your hair tightens as he fiercely thrusts into you. Faster, deeper, harder, he is literally blowing your back out. Your eyes squeeze shut and loud screams escape your mouth. The hand gripping your hair quickly covers your mouth to block out the lewd sounds you let out.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening at the fast pace and the constant pounding on your cervix. The feeling grows with Jungkook wrap his free hand over your thigh to rub your clit as he sloppily thrusts into you.

“Cum for me baby.” He says lowly and out of breath as his pace quickens. Your moans are muffled into his hand while he penetrates your cunt and stimulates your clit. “Fuck,” he says as you cum around his length, your legs shaking as Jungkook reaches his high. The sounds of your juices lapping together fills the room and you feel Jungkook’s warm release flow inside of you.

The two of you breathe heavily as Jungkook’s dick rests inside of you. After Jungkook has gotten his composure back, he pulls out, watching as your cunt discharges his cum down your thighs. Quickly pulling his pants up and jogging over to the corner to grab a paper towel, he comes back to clean you with it.

Your body is still limp over the vanity as he does so. “I hope I wasn’t too rough.” He says. You lift up, standing on your own, pulling the miniskirt down over your ass. Shaking your head. “No,” you let out a little chuckle. “That was amazing.”

Your eyes sparkle as they look up at his. He’s almost hypnotized by them, he drops his head to yours, kissing your lips again, his hands on the small of your back. “You have no idea how long I’ve been holding back.” You giggle at him.

“How long?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hand reaches your face, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he basks in your beauty and the feeling of your arms around him.

“Since the day I chose you as my COVERGIRL.”

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#who(re) you 🍂#jiminscockr1ng #˚ · .˚ ༘🦋⋆｡˚#bts smut #bts fanfic #kpop smut #bts x black reader #black reader #bts x reader #jungkook x black reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

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alvojake · 1 month

Note

heyy can you write about ab riding smut of any member(s) you'd like

「note」 : anon I wanna kiss your beautiful brain! Gamer Heeseung has a death grip on me and so I present to you the cliche riding gamer boyfriend Heeseung while he games.

On The Downlow | L.HS

「paring」 : gamer!bf!heeseung x fem!reader 「word count」 : 2.2k

「synopsis」 : your boyfriend had a hard week at work, and you wanted nothing more than to pamper him and help him relieve his stress. but you barely made it past lunch when he went running to his video games. so you come up with a new plan that involves a new little lingerie set you bought just for him, but it doesn't exactly go as you planned it.

「genre」 : smut with little plot, a tinge of fluff, and crack

「warning」 : riding, unprotected sex (just don't), dom!heeseung x sub!reader, cursing, slight orgasm denial, exhibitionism, petnames (baby, babydoll, beautiful, brat, slut...), praising, degradation, heeseung spanks the reader like once, mentions of porn, lmk if I missed anything!!

“God dammit Jake I said your left!!” Heeseung shouted at his friend as his fingers furiously smashed on the keyboard keys. He had been at this since about noon when he got a message from Sunghoon telling him to hop on.

It was almost midnight now and the dinner that you had made for the both of you had long since gone cold. He had promised that he would only be on for a few hours then he was all yours. You knew better than to believe him because the outcome was always the same. He’d be on it for so long that you eventually just fall asleep.

However, you wanted to do something nice for your boyfriend seeing as he had a long week at work. You were going to try and help him relax, but he ran to the animated characters on the screen instead.

You sat on the edge of your shared bed, knees tucked under you as you watched him intently. Watching as his eyebrows furrowed when things took a wrong turn, the way his bottom lip would get stuck between his teeth during an intense match. You could feel the need getting stronger, the heat that was pooling in your gut was now turning into a raging fire.

“Hee.” You called out to the dark-haired male but got no response. Standing from the bed carefully you made your way over to the closet.

You were going to save this until you two could finally have some fun together, but now you had another plan in mind. Looking over your shoulder you could see Heeseung was still absorbed in his game so you quickly and carefully grab a shopping bag you had hidden. Peeking inside you made sure everything was still inside before tiptoeing to the bathroom.

With one glance at your boyfriend, you quietly shut the door and started to quickly strip out of your sleep clothes. You had bought a cute purple lace lingerie set just for Heeseung because you knew how crazy he got when he’d see you in purple.

Once it was completely on you looked at yourself in the mirror, the fabric hugged your breast perfectly and the garter belt accentuated your waist beautifully. Your fingers grazed over the embroidered flowers as you smirked. You knew he’d absolutely love it.

Walking back into the room you were met with Heeseung screaming at Sunghoon about missing a shot which got him killed. You had to be quick otherwise he’d turn and look over to check on you while he was down. Sitting on the bed you grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around your body completely just as he looked over.

His eyebrows scrunched together as he pulled one side of the headphones off, “Baby what are you doing still awake?”

You met his eyes with a small pout, “I was waiting for you.”

Heeseung smiled softly with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry beautiful, I’ll be done soon I promise.”

“That's what you said a few hours ago, Hee.” Your bottom lip jutted out and oh how Heeseung just wanted to go over and kiss you stupid, but he promised the guys a few more rounds.

“Just a few more rounds and I’m yours I swear.” With that, he turned back around when the guys called for him.

A smirk spread on your lips as you watched him get back into the match, barking orders. Carefully you removed the blanket from your body, standing up and making your way over to your unsuspecting boyfriend.

You waited until he was in the lobby waiting for the next round to make your move. Heeseung jumped slightly when he felt your hand on his arm, his eyes throwing a quick glance at you before going back to the screen. You rolled your eyes before tugging his hand off of the keyboard and climbing into his lap.

Heeseung hummed softly as he placed his hand on your lower back to steady your body. His eyes were torn away from the screen when he felt the lacey fabric under his fingertips. “Are you oka- fuck baby.” Heeseung’s eyes racked your body, his dick twitching in his sweats.

“Heeseung dude, what the fuck are you doing?” You could hear Jay through Heeseung’s headphones and you smirked at him. He glared at you as his grip tightened on your waist.

“Sorry, I’m back.” He grumbled as he moved closer to the desk successfully trapping you between his body and the hard surface. You could hear the boys teasing him as well as feel the heat rushing up his neck as you placed small kisses against his skin.

Heeseung bit down on his tongue to keep any noises from slipping as you bit and sucked on his sensitive skin. His eyes still focused on the screen trying his best to ignore your little antics. Your hands roamed over his body before finding his hardening cock, palming it softly.

He quickly muted the mic before grabbing your wrist, stopping your movements, and gaining your attention. Your eyes meeting his dark and hooded ones, you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh which Heeseung did not find too amusing.

“Do you think this is funny?” His voice dropped an octave as he pulled your hand away from his crotch.

You just pouted, shoulders slouching, “You’ve been ignoring me all night.”

Heeseung had to bite back the smirk that was threatening to spread on his lips, “I told you that I was gonna play a few more rounds then I was yours.” You huffed before moving further up his lap, your core aching for some kind of attention. Heeseung watched your movements with a smug gaze, watching as you slowly rolled your hips against his, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “You’re so impatient, baby.” A yelp left your lungs as Heeseung landed a harsh smack against the skin of your ass.

“Hee-” “Here’s the deal baby,” His hand grabbed your ass, squeezing harshly making you whimper, “since you want to be a needy little brat, you’re gonna ride my cock and you don’t get to cum until I tell you.” You whined knowing you wouldn’t last very long, not in the state that you were in now, but you nodded nonetheless. Heeseung chuckled before leaning closer to you, “Oh and try not to make any noise, you don’t want the boys to know how much of a desperate slut you are, right?”

You shook your head in protest because you both knew how vocal you were in bed, but Heeseung just ignored your protest as he unmuted his mic, apologizing when the string of curses from the boys came through.

It didn’t even take two minutes before you were scooting down your boyfriend's legs to untie his sweatpants. The need and lust started to cloud your mind, so much so that a whine left your lips when you pulled his pants and boxers down enough for his hard cock to spring free.

Heeseung gave you a pointed look causing you to mumble an apology. You bit your lip as you grabbed his dick in your hand, pumping him slowly. You started to tease him because it was only fair. After all, he left you waiting for so long, right?

Heeseung closed his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the game in front of him, but it was growing increasingly difficult as your movements sped up. Your thumb swiped over his angry tip, spreading his pre-cum causing him to hiss.

“Yo dude, are you sure you’re good?” Jake asked and Heeseung coughed out an ‘I’m fine’ before glaring down at you.

You just met his eyes, feigning innocence but he knew better than that.

“I’ll be right back, I ran out of water,” His words were rushed as he muted his mic once more, ignoring the guy's protest. He removed your hand from his shaft before pulling you flush against him, “it seems like someone doesn’t wanna cum.”

“No-” “Then stop fucking teasing.” He growled against your lips causing you to whimper, but you nodded.

Heeseung released you and you quickly moved back a little bit to slide your panties to the side. He watched you intently as you grabbed his cock to line his tip with your dripping cunt. You slid down him slowly, savoring the stretch he gave.

Growing impatient Heeseung grabbed your hips and pulled you down onto him swiftly, causing a loud moan to leave your lips, fingers digging into his shoulders. He mumbled filthy things in your ear as he rubbed circles on your lower back.

“Now be a good girl and ride my cock while I play.” Heeseung kissed your temple before leaning forward to unmute his mic. However, his movement caused him to push deeper inside you and you quickly buried your face in his neck to muffle the whines. “Sorry guys, I'm back.”

You slowly rolled your hips against his until you fully adjusted to him. Quiet, breathy moans left your lips as you started to slowly bounce on your boyfriend's dick. His free hand rests on your hip, helping to keep you steady as your pace picks up.

“Fuck Seungie I-” You bit your lip hard as his tip brushed over your sweet spot, moans threatening to slip.

As your pace increased you were sure that the guys could hear the wet, lewd sounds that were leaving your cunt, if they did they didn’t say a word. Heeseung was enjoying the way you tried to keep quiet, maybe a little too much. He knew that telling you to be quiet was like trying to tell a toddler to stop crying. It wouldn’t work, not for long at least.

So he had a new goal in mind, he was going to make you break and finally release those pretty sounds you make. He didn’t care if his friends could hear, no he wanted them to hear you. He wanted them to know that you were his and that he was the only one who could make you feel this good.

With that, his grip on your hip tightened before he thrusted up into you harshly causing a loud gasp to leave your parted lips. Your eyes met his, not missing the sinister gleam as he continued to thrust into you.

“Hee- fuck.” You cried out as his tip kissed your cervix, not really caring if anyone could hear you. The way Heeseung’s cock was reaching all the right places felt good, too good to care.

“Dude, what the fuck was that?” “Was that y/n?” You could hear the boys on the headset and instantly bite your lip, quieting your noises once more.

Heeseung chuckled before moving his mic and kissing your cheek as you continued to ride him, “Go ahead baby, let them hear how good I make you feel.”

With his permission, you released your lip as a choked moan tore through your lips, “Seungie I wanna cum, please.” You whined out as your movements grew sporadic, your thighs burning.

“Not yet baby, wait for me.” Heeseung’s voice came out soft, making you nod despite the need to cum. “Good girl.” You whined at the praise as your lips latched onto his skin, anchoring yourself so you wouldn’t cum too soon.

“Bro, are you for real watching porn right now?” Sunghoon groaned, causing the other guys to start laughing.

“Oh no, I’ve got something way better than porn on right now.” Heeseung chuckled before a groan tore through his throat as you squeezed around him. He couldn’t help but become amused when the guys all went quiet, realizing what was happening.

Heeseung moved away from the desk a little bit before leaning back in the chair. You removed your face from his neck when he grabbed your hips with both hands, watching with fucked out eyes as he helped you move along his cock.

“Go on, beautiful, let them hear how good Seungies cock makes you feel.” Heeseung groaned as you grabbed his shoulders, desperately trying to find your high.

“Seungie, it feels so good.” You whined out as your head fell back, “I wanna cum please.”

Heeseung’s dick twitched at your whiny voice and he knew he was close, there was no way he could deny you when he was almost there himself. He leaned forward placing harsh kisses along your jugular eliciting more whines from you.

“Cum for me babydoll.” He whispered huskily in your ear and that’s all it took for your orgasm to wash over you, cries of his name falling from your lips like a mantra as he continued to thrust up into you. After a few more harsh thrusts he painted your walls white, a throaty groan leaving his lips against your skin.

After you both came down from your highs you slumped against Heeseung, his cock still buried deep in your cunt. Your warm breath fanning his sweaty neck causes a shiver to go down his spine.

“YO WHAT THE FUCK HEESEUNG?!” Jay cursed at your boyfriend but the older male just chuckled as he rubbed your back soothingly.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” Heeseung teased, causing all of the boys to start shouting different excuses to defend themselves which only further amused your boyfriend.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @heesitation @riftanswhore @luvyong2z

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feralthoughtdump · 4 months

Text

False God

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, smut, threesome, alcohol and ambiguous substance consumption, lip biting, a little bit of blood, oral (m&f receiving), facefucking, spitroast, a lot of bodily fluids, squirting, a teeny bit of bi!Felix, a little bit of butt stuff, not fully canon compliant (let’s imagine that Felix didn’t find out about Oliver lying)

Word Count: 2k

Felix wasn’t the type who liked to share his toys. Whether it be his girlfriend, or his shiny new friend who comes to visit every summer, Felix felt a certain possession over them that he didn’t like to admit. But Oliver came to Saltburn with that woeful, wide-eyed gaze that Felix couldn’t fully resist. He also couldn’t deny how he looked at his girlfriend and how she looked at him. All of the shared glances across the dinner table, how she’d swallow when he had something witty to say to her, how his gaze would linger on her just a little bit longer than hers.

Felix trusted her, he knew that she’d never go behind his back. And it’s the trust he holds in her that fuels his desire to let this happen. He adores her. Especially now with her, as Farleigh calls it, slutty fairy costume, and he’d do anything to make her happy, even if it meant letting Oliver touch her in ways that were solely reserved for him.

So, the three of them find themselves in this predicament, with her draped against him, and Oliver leaning against the doorway.

“Baby, know Oliver, right?” She nods, pressing herself closer to his chest. Felix wraps a comforting arm around her midriff, rubbing circles into her exposed skin with his thumb. “It’s his birthday today, and I thought this would be a nice present.”

His lips pressed against her neck, her pulse thrumming against them, while his hands wandered, pushing the little skirt that she wore past her hips, exposing the intricate set that he bought for this occasion.

Oliver grins, stepping closer to the pair. He looks at her, the antlers on his head casting a shadow over her glittery doe eyes.

“She’s a very nice present.” His fingers push at the strap of her fairy wings, letting them fall to the ground with a soft clatter. “How’d you know I was into her?”

“Saw you looking.” He chuckles and expertly unclaspes the back of her lacy bra. “But I can’t blame you, she’s pretty.”

His large hand palms at her now exposed tits, rolling a nipple between his fingers.

She whines and lets her head fall back against his chest, still covered in the ribbed fabric of his tank top.

“Don’t tease, Felix.” She sighs.

Oliver approaches them, stripping himself of his embroidered suit in the process. The pair watch with bated breath as he sinks to his knees in front of her. He noses at the inside of her thigh, taking in how soft and plush she felt.

He savors her, kissing and nipping at her thighs, letting his fingers drift from her ankles up to her knees. As he pushes her legs apart, Felix thumbs at her pussy through her panties, creating a wet patch on the expensive lace.

“Can I give her a taste?” Oliver asks, lips parted and eyes gleaming, staring up at Felix.

“Of course you can.” Felix carefully positions her on the bed, her back flat on the mattress and Oliver places himself in front of her, right in between her thighs.

Her shaky fingers push the lace waistband past her hips, but Oliver stops her, letting his teeth catch on the fabric to do it himself. He hums at the sight of her pussy, all wet and wanting.

Felix places himself over her, jerking at his cock as Oliver licks a strip along the length of her folds.

She yelps, pulling back, oversensitive from Felix’s previous ministrations, but he tightens his hold on her, keeping her in place.

“C’mon, be a good girl. Let him make you feel good.” She turns her head, bashful at how his words affect her, but he takes her chin and forces her eyes to meet his. “You’ll be good for Ollie, for me. Won’t you?”

She licks her lips, shallow breaths making her chest rise and fall.

“Yeah, I’ll be good,” she whispers.

He smiles, and affectionately pats her cheek, and her thighs widen as she shifts against the mattress, trying to relax.

With a nod of approval from Felix, Oliver grabs her thighs and pulls her onto his face. His tongue laps at her, circling her clit and teasing at her entrance.

As she parts her lips, moaning at the heat that grows in the pit of her stomach, Felix places his thumb against her tongue, keeping her jaw open. He takes this as an opportunity to slip his cock into her wanting mouth. She sputters around him as the length of his shaft fills her mouth.

“Fuck.” He groans. “Taking me so well, baby.”

Felix fucks himself into her mouth, letting his tip hit the back of her throat. She hollows her cheeks before sucking, letting her lips wrap tight around his shaft, saliva dripping past her lips with every drag of his cock.

Oliver wraps lips around her clit and slips two fingers into her dripping entrance. His fingers curl and she cries out.

“Do that again,” Felix demands. “She likes it.”

He angles his fingers, letting the pads of his fingers press against her G-spot. At the sight of her legs shaking, he curls his fingers, practically forcing her hips to jerk against his face.

She feels her body tense, falling closer and closer to the edge, as Oliver teases her, over and over again. Her arousal, in combination with his saliva, is spread across his lips.

It’s messy, but none of them care. Both she and Felix love the sight of his flushed cheeks, eyes half-lidded in pleasure from the way her cunt tastes.

“Don’t let her cum yet” he breathily orders “Have her suck you off first.”

Felix manhandles her onto her knees and crawls onto the mattress, he taps his cock against cunt, dripping with a mixture of both her arousal and Oliver’s saliva. She looks up at Oliver, keeping her mouth open and drooling, and sticks out her tongue, an open invitation for him to start fucking her face.

“So well behaved,” Oliver whispers, tapping his hard, flushed cock on her tongue, pre-cum dripping down into her throat. “You’re Felix’s good girl, aren’t you?”

Before she can respond, Oliver shoves his cock past her lips and Felix pushes himself inside her, forcing all of him into her cunt. She yelps around Oliver’s cock, the vibrations from the back of her throat making him shudder.

The sound of skin slapping against one another fills the room as Felix fucks into her, letting his hips slam against hers.

The reflection in the mirror across from them is obscene. Her chin is covered in her own drool, smeared across her cheeks and chin, dripping onto the expensive sheets. Felix has his head thrown back in pleasure, hands on her hips with a bruising hold, sweat gleaming on his skin, soaking through the front of his thin tank top.

Oliver takes Felix’s face and plasters his lips against his. He’s taken by surprise, but he grabs the back of Oliver’s neck and pulls him in closer, forcing Oliver’s hips to push his cock deeper into her mouth. She grabs at the back of Oliver’s thigh, digging her nails into his skin. He hisses at the sting and bites down on Felix’s lower lip, a metallic taste blooming on his tongue.

They pull away from each other, and blood trickles down Felix’s chin.

Oliver stares at Felix, about to apologize, but Felix grins. “I could taste her on you, you know? Doesn’t she taste good?”

All he can do is nod in agreement, cock twitching in her mouth.

Oliver nods and leans forward, licking up the blood pooling on Felix’s lips. The pair lock their lips together. Wet sounds of their kisses and Felix’s cock being sucked into her pussy reverberate throughout the room, accompanied by her gagging and choking.

She whines, drawing both of their attention back to her.

“Aww, my baby needs some attention?” At the sound of her whimpering in confirmation, Felix chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ll give you some attention then.”

Felix reaches forward, pressing his thumb into Oliver’s open mouth, biting his lip at the sight of him swirling his tongue around the digit. With a loud pop, Felix removed his thumb from Oliver’s mouth.

Wet with Oliver’s saliva, Felix’s thumb circles her other hole, slowly teasing it open. She whines, feeling a foreign stretch as his thumb pushes past the muscle.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” He groans. “Don’t know why I haven’t fucked your tight little ass yet. Maybe I should tomorrow, I know your pussy’s going to be sore.”

Her holes clench around Felix, the feeling of fullness, overtaking her body. She shudders, legs about to give out underneath her, as he forcefully drives his cock into her and teases at her hole, letting his thumb push against the rim, stretching it open.

“Oh, she likes that, doesn’t she?” Oliver grins, messily grabbing at the length of her hair, forcing her to look at him. “You like it dirty? Like getting all of your holes filled?”

She blinks away the dark streaks of mascara that run down her face, trying her best to nod. He lets his cock slip free of her lips and gives her cheek a pinch.

“Come on, use your words.”

“Yes,” She gasps, back arching, pushing herself into Felix. “I like it.”

He presses her front into the mattress, forcing her back to arch deeper into Felix. His fingers wrap around his hard, leaking cock, letting her spit lubricate his hand as he tugs, slowly bringing himself closer and closer to his own release.

She tightens around Felix, whining as she feels an oncoming orgasm about to wash over her.

Her glassy eyes look up at Oliver’s and he coos, thumbing at her cheek.

“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ollie, I- ah!”

Felix lets his thumb hook inside of her clenching muscle, pulling her into him.

His cock buries deep inside of her, forcing itself against her cervix. She screams, and Oliver is thankful for the loud music playing throughout the house. Her arousal gushes, spraying against both her, and Felix’s thighs.

“Fuck, baby, making a mess over here.” Felix groans. His head falls back, panting, his grip on her tightening.

His hips still, with tense thighs and stifled moans, he cums, coating her insides. Carefully, he slips himself out, using his fingers to spread her pussy open, watching with pride as his cum and her arousal drip out of her clenching, gaping cunt.

Oliver pushes his cock back into her mouth, releasing down her throat. Her eyes tear up at the sudden intrusion. She’s overwhelmed and over-sensitive, but she swallows around him, obedient as always.

The trio collapses on the mattress, chests rising and falling in tandem. Felix wraps a strong arm around her and pulls her in close, letting her temple rest on his chest. Oliver gently grazes her shoulders with his fingers, calming her down and letting her shaky and twitchy body slowly fall still.

The lights of the party filter through the large windows, illuminating their sweat-slicked bodies. They shimmer, her body glitter having rubbed onto each other.

Distanced from the commotion happening outside of his room, it was just the three of them, sprawled across Felix’s bed. It was the three of them. Felix, their shining Adonis, and her and Oliver. Felix’s favorite toys.

#saltburn #oliver quick #felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #felix catton x oliver quick #felix catton x reader x oliver quick

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kamaluhkhan · 4 months

Text

you are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad)

pairing: young!coryo snow x fem!reader

summary: clemensia dovecote has a theory that you and snow are destined for an enemies to lovers arc. you're sure it's completely, absolutely not true...right?

warnings: 18 + smut; biting + mention of blood ; both reader and snow are not the best ppl and have some very classist/elitist opinions

a/n: finally!! i wrote one of the ideas that has been haunting me ever since i've been back in my hunger games obsession + watched tbosbas...needless to say this will likely be a series inspired by taylor swift's reputation album. also i am so sorry this is unedited bc ofc it's 3am when i had the motivation to write this but i hope y'all enjoy ♡

i've had enemies so intense it felt like love, so mutual it felt romantic (chelsea hodson)

"what in the name of all the gods is he doing here?"

you're practically seething when coriolanus snow walks into your foyer. he's wearing an ensemble made with crisp white silk and intricately embroidered with gold thread - elegant, eventhough its silhouette would have been fashionable last year. a single white rose sits in the pocket of his jacket. he surveys the crowd, like he's calculating who's most worthy of his attention, platnium blond hair perfectly curled and practically glowing under the light of the chandelier. he looks beautiful, almost angelic.

you absolutely hate it.

"oh, i invited him," clemensia dovecote informs non-chalantly.

coriolanus makes eye contact with you from across the room, and you turn your head sharply to your best friend.

"why would you think it was okay to invite him?"

clemensia smiles mischeviously, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing silver tray. she hands one to you.

"i know the two of you have your petty squabbles — "

"they are not petty, nor are they squabbles," you grumble, taking a sip of your drink.

your contempt towards coriolanus was perfectly reasonable and absolutely mutual. he had some ridiculous notion that snow had to land on top, that it was his right to be there instead of yours. your relationship, if you could call it that, was limited to nothing more than snide remarks, sarcastic comments, and scornful stares. you both hyperaware of the importance of keeping up appearances, but the older you got - the closer to life outside of the academy and the higher the stakes - the more any sense of civility between you two faded. just earlier this week, you'd gotten into such a heated debate about the best way to increase viewership for the upcoming 10th annual hunger games, that your professor excused you both from the class early due to the disruption. it seemed that no one knew how to make you burn with anger quite like coriolanus snow.

clemensia rolls her eyes. "whatever you want to call it, i actually think the two of you would get along if you really tried."

one of the things you admired - and, frankly, loathed - about clemensia was her determination to always prove herself right. she had this theory - one you would call ludicrous - that the tension between you and coriolanus had nothing to do with academics or status and everything to do with wanting to rip each other's clothes off.

your eyes catch coriolanus' icy blue ones again and you down the rest of your drink. obviously, clemensia was wrong about this. so, very wrong.

"well," you huff, setting your empty glass down on another silver tray that passes by. you brush invisible dust off your dress - a deep red lace, short and form fitting with exaggerated long sleeves - and add: "you'll be lucky if i invite you to my next party."

clemensia might have had the sense to apologize then, but you walked away before she had a chance.

you allow yourself to weave through the crowd, greeting every guest with an equal facade of enthusiasm and grace. you smile as brightly at one person as you do the next, showing off your newly bleached teeth and making sure that everyone feels special. silver trays of food and drinks appear and reappear throughout the crowd, being carried by nameless waiters. there's a table overflowing with gifts concealed by crisply folded wrapping paper - you expect at least half of them will be worthless.

you put up a good front, but soon enough your lipstick needs reapplying and your hair readjusting, so you briefly excuse yourself lest anyone notice a crack in your perfectly constructed image. the door to your room is slightly ajar, and you open it to reveal none other than the person you'd deliberately, but not so successfully, tried to ignore all night, his white silk shirt stained a dark crimson that happened to match your dress.

coriolanus was furious when he found out you'd invited the entire graduating class, except him, to your birthday party. you'd even invited sejanus. it wasn't that he particularly wanted to celebrate you, of all people. you were the most brilliant, biting, enfuriating person he knew, but to be excluded in such a way was insulting. when clemensia extended him the invite, he jumped at the chance to prove to everyone, to you, that he belonged here. tigris curated his outfit, and it would have been perfect had arachne crane, vapid creature she was and ever the lightweight, spilled an entire glass of red wine on him. he hurried away before anyone could see him in such a humiliating state. coriolanus is in the middle of calculating his options when you walk into what he now realizes is your bedroom.

you don't say a word at first. you haven't said one to him all night. instead, you close the door behind you and your eyes graze his figure.

"you show up to my party, late no less, and now you're parading around in what looks like a bloodstained shirt that is far too outmoded to be appropriate attire for this occasion," you remark, displaying that signature fierceness. "are you trying to ruin my birthday, snow?"

"don't blame me," coriolanus scoffs. his shoulders tense and he makes a point to stand up a bit straighter. "blame arachne for not being able to hold her alcohol while she's complaining about the food."

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "what did she say?"

"something about people in the districts having better options."

"vapid bitch," you mutter under your breath. you walk over to your closet, disappearing for a few seconds before bringing out a fresh shirt. you extend it to him, but he doesn't take it.

"i can't very well have a good time when one of my guests looks like he just got killed in the hunger games," you huff. "so either you put this on or your leave my party. now."

coriolanus holds your gaze, his jaw clenched, before giving in and taking the shirt from you. he goes to undo the buttons of his shirt, but stops when he notices that your eyes never leave him.

"some privacy would be nice," he says sharply.

you roll your eyes, muttering something about it being your house and your room, before sitting across the room at your vanity. as he undresses and throws his soiled shirt on the floor, coriolanus watches you closely. you meticulously apply lipstick, the shade of red almost as dark as your black nails.

you were attractive, there was no denying that, but ultimately dangerous. because you weren't carelessly cruel like arachne, nor did you wear your heart on your sleeve like sejanus. you didn't use your family's status as an excuse to avoid hard work like felix, nor were you a spineless know-it-all like clemensia. no, you were different from the rest. you had a fiery ambition and a sharp tongue, a wicked streak with just enough charisma to lure people in. sometimes when he thinks of you, coriolanus recalls stories his grandma'am once told him and tigress, about sea monsters who would tempt sailors with their bewitching voices and enchanting beauty, enticing them to risk everything - to jump into the ocean and never be relevant as anything more than a midnight snack. you were a constant, suffocating reminder of how quickly he could lose everything if he lost control, if he gave in.

coriolanus watches you set down the tube of lipstick before picking up a compact. you lightly brush the shimmery powder inside over your face to accentuate some of your gorgeous features.

the desire that burns throughout his body now has to be a side effect of the few glasses of liquor he managed to drink, allowing himself the appearance of having a good time alongside everyone else without losing control.

your eyes leave your reflection momentarily, and you finally catch coriolanus staring at you. you wink at him from across the room just as he's finished with the last button. the way you look at him makes the collar of his shirt feel tighter.

he can not give in....but what's the harm in admitting, just for one night, that he would let you drown him? devour him? beg on his knees to give you pleasure, and then thank you after the fact?

coriolanus clears his throat. "this feels wrong. i should be the one gifting you with a new shirt. it's your birthday, after all."

you let out a breathy laugh, setting down your makeup. you walk over to him, until there are only a few inches between you despite the vastness of your bedroom.

even you had to concede that coriolanus snow had such a gorgeous face for such a vicious person. you're infuriated by how elegant he looks now, in your shirt. your hands busy themselves in smoothing down his already perfect collar and you take note of the intensity of his heartbeat. you notice the way his jaw remains clenched, his posture stiff, his skin flushed. you realize that he must be trying so hard right now to retain his composure around you and you feel something that can only be described as triumph.

you smile at him, sickly sweet, and remove your hands from his body. "the best birthday present i could get is winning the plinth prize over you, snow. we both know you're not good enough, let alone better than me."

he hesitates slightly before responding.

"sorry, valerius. that's the one thing i can't give you. is there anything else you'd want from me?" he whispers, words dripping like honey.

"that depends, is there anything you want from me?"

he hums, moving his hand to cup your cheek. he begins to trace your lips with his thumb, ruining the look you had so meticulously crafted.

if only you knew.

"you're the birthday girl, sweetheart," he chides. "i'm supposed to be the one giving the gift. you do know how birthdays work, don't you?"

he's mocking you, you know that. he's trying to make you feel weak and small. you had the power a second ago, his heartbeat in the palm of your hand, and normally you wouldn't stand for him turning the tables. you'd push him away, storm out the door. but right now all you want is to tug on his perfect blond curls, to bite the smirk off his lips. maybe it's the way he's so close and can't seem to take his eyes off your lips or the calculated amount of wine you drank that's made your head a bit foggy, made you put your guard down. made you start to entertain the idea that maybe possibly clemensia's theory had some truth to it.

"why don't you surprise me?" you suggest.

coriolanus surges forward and kisses you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starving. teeth on teeth on tongue. you instantly tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some curls just to see what he'd do. he retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of honeyed wine on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you cannot go too far.

"sorry." but he smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it.

eventually, you've both stumbled onto the bed half-naked. coriolanus positions himself above you, effectively caging you in with his arms and legs. you take note of his lean thighs, his bare torso with skin taut around his bones. you're almost taken aback by how frail he looks - like a malnourished teenager from one of the districts. you reach out to trace the outline of his ribs, your nails scraping against his skin, and he shudders. your hand moves lower, teasing the waistband of his underwear. he stops you before it slips underneath the material.

instead, coriolanus begins to indulge in his deepest fantasy. he kisses and sucks and bites down your body, his tongue trailing down your chest, over your breasts and around your nipples, across your stomach. he laps up your soft whines, the curses that tumble from your lips for him to do something more. you sink further into the silk sheets when he arrives between your thighs. you raise your hips, desperate to find any sort of relief, and you feel his nails dig into your hips.

"patience," he teases, his breath fanning over where you needed him most. "so needy." you could practically feel coriolanus roll his eyes.

"i swear to god snow, if you don't do something soon. i-i'll go find someone else to fuck me. felix, or maybe sejanus --"

you yelp when his teeth sink into your inner thigh. he looks up at you, eyes the darkest blue you've ever seen them.

"don't," coriolanus warns, and he gets back to work, lips actually arriving at where you needed them most.

after you've reached your high, he comes back up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. when he pulls away, you take note of how his lips and nose shine with remnants of you. the way he looks at you while he licks his lips shows you that he wants more. you move your hand down, and you're deeply satisfied when you feel him half hard, already sticky with his release.

"oh." you smirk. "you already finished."

his eyes widen, skin flushing pink. you could feel his heartbeat grow faster above you. you could imagine he was debating the best way to restore his dominance from before. yet, here he was, nothing but a horny teenage boy who came untouched as he was eating out his worst enemy. you find it in you to not call him pathetic, but instead decide, in your post-orgasm haze, you find it endearing.

"i-i didn't mean to, but --"

"i'm just that sexy when i cum," you suggest, running your hands through his curls to calm him down. "how about we try again, pretty boy?"

soon enough, he's sitting up with his back against your headboard and your legs wrapped around his waist, his length fully nestled into your warm cunt. coriolanus' blunt nails graze your hips, moving lower to your ass to guide you with each thrust. you love seeing him underneath you, seeming completely mesmerized by how your breasts bounce up and down in front of him. he leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, but you beat him to it. you bend forward and suck bruises onto his skin, everywhere and anywhere: underneath his chin, across his collarbone, where his neck meets his shoulder.

his moans are so loud, and you're sure he's not going to last much longer. you're also worried that some of the other party guests might catch you, so you pull his head away from your shoulder and crash your lips back onto to his. you swallow his moans as best you can, tongues fight for dominance, but he lets out a deep groan, and lets you win. you bite down on his bottom lip just as you reach your climax, causing him to let out a deep groan once more.

you gasp when he suddenly flips you over, pulls out of you and stokes himself a few times before painting your body with his release. coriolanus all but collapses on the bed beside you. you're both breathing heavily for a few moments, on your backs looking up at the ceiling, before he turns on his side towards you. coriolanus trails hs fingers down to your abdomen, sticky with his cum.

"i told you: snow lands on top."

"was that a joke, coryo?" you guffaw, genuinely surprised at the mischievous but playful glint in his eye. a bit surprised at yourself, too, for using his nickname that you'd so carefully avoided. you had to remind yourself that he was still the same coriolanus snow you'd grown to hate.

the boy tangled in the sheets beside you, his messy curls translucent under the light of your chandelier, his skin glowing with sweat and decorated with lipstick and rose-petal bruises. the boy who now smiles at you with dazzling blue eyes, leans closer and whispers:

"don't get used to it. it's a special occasion." coriolanus kisses you sweetly, and you shiver before he adds: "happy birthday."

this boy in bed with you now is the same manipulative, power hungry snake who would stab you in the back if need be. and, the truth of the matter is: you aren't much different, either.

you get up to grab his wine-stained shirt, use it to wipe off his release and toss it back down to the floor.

his eyes follow you the entire time, even as you come back to straddle him again. almost instantly, you feel him harden underneath you. you hold his head in your hands, kiss him deeply, tease his bottom lip between your teeth as you pull away.

"snow lands on top, huh? not for long, if i can help it."

3K notes · View notes

dollfacefantasy · 3 months

Text

Special Day

pairing: mafia!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: this year your husband wants to give you a special present for your birthday

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (fem receiving), fingering, daddy kink, breeding kink

word count: 5.2k

a/n: birthday fic for someone i am so happy to know and call my friend, @explorevenus. i love her so so much, she's one of the most fun and kindest people i have ever known. she's so totally cool and you all should wish her a very happy birthday.

For my pretty little doll on her special day. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.

That’s the message scrawled onto the scrap of paper that’s attached to the hanger on the closet door. On the hanger, dangled one of the prettiest dresses you’d ever seen in your life. Your favorite color, flowy and shimmering. Of the hundreds of things he’d asked you to wear over the course of your relationship, this had to be in the top three.

It almost made up for the fact that he was going to be on the job for nearly the entire day. You weren’t even confident he’d make it home in time for the dinner reservations you had, but if you had to be alone, at least you would look good doing it.

If anything, you tried not to let his absence bother you too much because it could be worse. You make a point to yourself to remember that today wasn’t like years ago when you would’ve spent the whole day at work just to come home to an empty house. So far you've spent it out, getting your nails done, lunch at one of your favorite places, some light shopping. And it was all on his dime. This was the one day a year where he truly gave you no limits, no allowance, no teasing about your debit card being worn out. Your birthday always was about letting you indulge in anything you wanted as much as your heart desired. You reminded yourself of that when you felt the familiar pain of longing tighten up your chest.

It wasn’t like the feeling was a foreign one. He’d been at work on every birthday you’d had since the two of you got together. He’d treat you to the shopping spree combined with sending you a lavish arrangement of flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, or whatever you had been wanting that year. Then he’d come to you the next day, or once you started living together, in the middle of the night. Always climbing into bed or coming up behind you with a hushed “‘m sorry, babydoll” and some gentle kisses to your head. And you’d never complain because the next day before you even had a chance to get annoyed, an expensive new bracelet would be on your wrist, and he’d deliver his apologies between your legs with his tongue, fingers, or cock. Your choice.

For the week leading up to your birthday this year, you had just been silently hoping it would be different. Considering he had been spending more time with you lately, and less time in sketchy meetings, it didn’t seem unreasonable. The higher he climbed in the dark world that he worked in, the closer you came to living the glamorous life he’d promised you from the beginning. His higher position scored the two of you the penthouse you currently sat in. It got you vacations to exotic places and clothes you previously only would’ve been able to afford in your wildest fantasies.

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm orange-pink haze over your room. You figured you should put on the outfit he’d chosen for you. Lifting the dress up, you realize there’s something else attached to the hanger. Obscured from view at first glance is a delicate lingerie set, lacy pink bra and panties with rosebuds embroidered across them in rows. A smile rises on your lips as you slip off the clothing you had on and unclip the dainty articles from the hanger. Your fingertips smooth over the lace while visions of Leon’s hands dancing across your chest, squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples, flash through your mind.

You slide the thin straps onto your arms and reach behind to clasp it into place. Then you pull the panties up, looking in the mirror at how they fit over your hips. The dress comes after these. You put it on and are left blown away by his choice for you. It looked good. Showed you off, highlighted your assets in the most flattering way.

As you admire your reflection, the main doors to the apartment open and close. Keys rattle as they’re dropped on the side table. He enters the bedroom and you hear a hum of adoration rumble from his chest.

“There’s the birthday girl,” he says softly as he makes his way to you.

Your eyes capture his gaze with a fond glance. He’d actually made it back when he said he would. Maybe things were looking up. You turn your back to him, revealing the parted fabric that left your back and the hem of your panties exposed.

“Zip me up?” you request.

Without a word, he pulls you close by your waist. You knew he loved doing this. Picking what you wore and watching your body slip into it, filling out his fantasies. His fingers tug the zipper upward and secure the dress together. He presses a tender kiss to your neck and inhales a deep breath of his favorite scent in the whole world, your perfume. His arms wrap around you as his palms rub down your body, over your belly and to your hips. He leaves a few more smooches on your throat as he directs your stare back to the mirror.

“That dress looks gorgeous on you. My perfect little doll,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you respond, catching his eyes in the reflective glass ahead of you. You scan the picture in front of you. His large frame engulfing yours, damn near lovesick expression on his face, hands and arms as possessive as they could be in such a basic stance.

“No, thank you,” he says, “You been having a nice day? Being a good girl? Staying safe?”

You sink back against his chest more as his low voice seeps out against your skin. “Mhm,” you answer with a slight nod.

“Yeah? You ready to have some more fun tonight?” he whispers, lips brushing your earlobe.

You nod, sweet and docile. God, it was like you melted in his presence. Could never hold onto anything with him around. It all went out the window in order to get his praise and feel the warmth of his affection on you.

“That’s my baby,” he coos with one more wet kiss on your cheek. He backs up as if he’s about to let you go, but as you turn around, he grabs your jaw. The pads of his fingertips gently dig into the flesh of your cheeks. In that loving and condescending tone that sent heat rushing through your body, he asks, “Who’s my pretty girl?”

It was such a simple thing. You didn’t know why it worked, but it always did. A big smile spreads across your face, and your eyes flit away with timid modesty.

“Me,” you confirm, tone soft but sure.

“That’s right,” he says simply and pulls you into an actual kiss.

After that, you’re almost giddy, high off the small gesture. It made your blood run hot and your head swim with a dizzy feeling of love. You all but prance to the rack against the wall that holds your shoes. Slipping on some matching heels, you face him once more and do a little motion to show off the completed look.

He chuckles at your twirl and opens his arms. You immediately go to him and find your place in his grasp. Kissing the top of your head, he mutters “What’d I do to get the sweetest girl in the world all to myself, hm?”

You shrug, and that’s all he needs before the two of you are ready to go. He stuffs his wallet in his pocket and walks towards the elevator with you tucked to his side. His fingers coast down your jaw and stroke your hair. Your eyes stay locked on him from the doors shutting to the little ding letting you know the trip is over.

The two of you float outside to the luxury car Leon rode around in now. Not even drove because he had been given a driver recently. All the two of you had to do was simply slip into the backseat.

He holds you close, nearly on his lap for the duration of the ride. One hand massages the back of your neck, keeping your head against his shoulder. The other delves beneath the skirt of your dress only to knead your plush thighs and feel your skin between his fingers. All the attention keeps your head spinning and your body craving his love.

It’s only around twenty minutes before the car pulls to a stop in front of the restaurant. You’re greeted by the familiar twinkling lights and neon letters of one of your favorite places. You beam at him and take his hand. He watches your pleasant reaction, so pleased he could make you happy with something so simple.

Getting in is quick and painless since he had called ahead of time, dead set on making this as special for you as possible. You’re seated at a booth in the back. It’s not completely private, but well secluded from the other patrons filling seats.

He slides in first, grinning as he pats the cushioning next to him. You follow, and immediately, he pulls you close. Your thighs are squished against each other beneath the table. His lips are caressing your neck as you skim the menu causing you to squirm and laugh softly.

“You get anything you want, pretty baby. Tonight’s all about my precious girl,” he whispers.

You nod and nuzzle into the affection a bit, brushing your nose with his. After deciding what you want, he orders your meal and drink. The two of you talk, and from this alone, it seems to be shaping up into the perfect night. You talk about everything and anything, catching up with him like you hadn’t in a while. You see the Leon you love, your Leon. The guy who comes home late with dark eyes and a flat voice is nowhere to be found, and you couldn’t be more pleased. He stays close the entire time, seemingly not able to help how touchy he was with you.

Eventually, your orders arrive, and things continue to look up. Your smile won’t leave your face as you eat and drink. Laughs fly between the two of you like neither of you had ever seen something bad in your lives. It’s only hours later, towards the end of dinner when you can see him simmering down a bit. His expression grows more serious. Different from usual though. It’s not stern. It’s more… vulnerable. He pulls you flush against him yet again and squeezes his arms around you softly.

“I’m happy you’re having a good time, sweetheart. You know I love seeing that pretty smile. And you should know, I’ve wanted your birthday to turn out this perfect every year. But now I can actually provide that,” he says, continuing to grow more genuine.

You nod, not totally sure where he’s going here but eager to find out.

“Usually, I’d have something big for you to open at the end of your day,” he starts. He almost looks nervous at this point, and it’s concerning you, “This year, I don’t have anything like that because I thought we might do something different for your main gift.”

You look up at him and shift your body to face him a little more. He had your attention now. You try to mentally run through different possibilities for a different kind of big present. Vacation? No, you’d done that before. Moving? That also seemed unlikely. Maybe it was related to his work? You honestly had no clue.

“What is it?” you ask.

“I think it’s time we start trying for a baby,” he says, his eyes going soft and his voice dropping to be more hushed.

Your heart jolts inside your chest. You almost don’t believe you heard him right. He must have said something else. That or he was just playing the most cruel joke in the entire world.

“But you said you didn’t want any?” you say skeptically.

“I know I did. But… I was wrong,” he says with a slight smile.

Leon had told you on each rare occasion that the topic of kids came up that he did not want any under any circumstances. This life was too dangerous, he wouldn’t have time for them, he wanted you all to himself. All were reasons you’d heard over the years. You’d honestly just shoved your small hopes for a family away because he seemed certain of his position on the topic. You’d come to terms that it would never happen. It was him or the white picket fence fantasy, and you’d chosen him with no real hesitation.

“And you just changed your mind out of the blue?” you ask.

He shakes his head with a chuckle. He kisses your pulse point as his fingers start tracing small circles on your arm. “No, no. I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he whispers.

Your breath hitches at the sensation of his mouth on your skin again. You tilt your head back and shut your eyes, letting him work. You were already buzzed from the drinks you had, and this wasn’t making it easier to think through your line of questioning.

“I’ve been having these dreams, y’know,” he breathes as if he senses your uncertainty, “Once every couple days, I’m seeing you pregnant. You’re looking fucking gorgeous, belly swollen and bright smile on your face. Then I wake up. And after a few times, I realized I don’t want that to only be a dream anymore.”

He continues trailing his mouth along your skin, leaving small love bites scattered throughout the sheen remnants of saliva. Your head is swirling with the mix of his actions and words, and what it means. He wanted you pregnant. It didn’t sound real to you even with his brief explanation.

“You want to change the entire direction of our lives because you had a few dreams?” you ask.

He laughs softly into the crook of your neck. “I’d been thinking about it anyway. I’m not getting any younger, baby. I guess I’ve softened in my old age cause what I want more than anything is to see my precious little doll holding our baby,” he says with a mix of teasing and seriousness in his voice.

It makes you smile and exhale with amusement. You turn your face in his direction and catch his lips in a real kiss. When he pulls away, his breath is coming out in heavier puffs. His eyes, blown out with love, are locked in a stare with you. His hand slips down to your midriff, palm flattening over your tummy.

“It wasn’t so hard to realize, babydoll. I’d be fucking insane to not want to see you carrying my baby. You’ll be the prettiest little mama,” he whispers.

His voice had become huskier, his thumb moving back and forth on your bottom lip. You were completely enraptured with him right now. Your head was growing fuzzier by the second, and the desire for him to fuck you full of cum was only getting stronger.

“You can’t even understand how much I’ll love watching that belly grow. How it’ll start sticking out of every shirt you have till we have to buy you a whole set of new ones,” he murmurs against your skin, “And don’t even get me started on how these are gonna fill out.” His hand moves to your breasts, gripping the plump flesh under his palm .

Now your breath was picking up a bit too. You shift in your seat in an attempt to alleviate the building tension in your center. His kisses become more aggressive and simple touches morph into rougher grabs.

“I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off you, babydoll. Gonna have to fuck you like we’re still trying even when you’re in the last few months,” he grunts.

The softest whimper escapes you, but he hears it. You feel his smirk against your skin. He lightly nips at your throat and pulls back, letting you see his smug expression in its entirety.

“You like that idea, yeah?” he coos quietly, “So much attention for you, baby. Constantly being doted on. You’re not gonna lift a finger for nine months. Gonna let me take care of everything while all your energy goes into growing our baby.”

You look up at him helplessly. Big, sweet eyes that remind him of a puppy. He grins as your head bobs up and down in a nod.

“My good fucking girl. Let’s get out of here,” he says.

You’re quick to follow him out of the booth after he drops a couple bills on the table. Your fingers lace with his as he leads you to the main doors and back to the car. You take him in as he guides you. Just a few moments to admire his broad shoulders and muscular biceps. His protective grip and eyes that seemed serious to everyone else, but you could tell held more mischievous intent.

Once you reach the car, he opens the door for you, giving you a quick smack on the ass as you climb in. He’s right next to you after that, and as the engine comes to life, you almost wish he’d waited to have that conversation in here instead. Because now you were gonna have to sit here, turned on and untouched for the ride back. Heated skin and glossy eyes, it was pretty obvious how you were feeling. Most likely everyone in that restaurant and the driver sitting one seat in front of you all knew that Leon was going to fuck you dumb as soon as you stepped through the doors to your apartment.

You come to figure though, that if it’s already so obvious, what’s the harm in being a little more overt? Scooting over to him, you lean into his firm side. He looks down at you knowingly. Your fingers curl over his thick thigh, nearly brushing the most sensitive area of his lap.

“Feeling a little impatient?” he teases softly.

You nod. Sure your driver could hear murmuring, you just hoped he couldn’t make out exact words.

“Yeah, what do you want me to do about it?” he mocks, “You need Daddy’s fingers in that tight cunt? Can’t even wait till we get home to cum?”

You bite your lip to muffle the whine blooming in your throat. Your face burns at the use of the title that melted your mind down to a few simple words. Yes Daddy. Thank you Daddy. Pretty please. Wanna cum.

With another nod, you sink further into his chest. Your eyes remain up and keep their focus on him.

“Well, since it’s your birthday…” he starts. His hand swoops beneath your dress, bypassing your thighs this time and cupping your pussy, fingers coasting over the damp fabric.

You were pulsing with desire, your heart thudding against your chest. He pulls your lacy garment to the side to run his digits through your folds and feel the slick that had gathered for him. A low chuckle leaves him, and all you can think is how grateful you are for the radio being turned on, no matter how low the volume. From how wet you were, you were sure in dead silence you’d be able to hear more lewd noises than the words spilling from Leon’s mouth.

“Oh, you really can’t wait. You’re already making a mess all over my seats,” he whispers.

The pad of his finger swirls over your clit, and you hum quietly in relief. The pressure in the pit of your belly releases a bit as the warm flow of pleasure courses through you. Your eyes flutter shut, your hands hook around his arm for comfort, and you press your face to his shoulder to obscure your reactions to the feeling.

“My perfect little doll. I press the right button and look how well you behave,” he breathes.

You suck in a breath, narrowly avoiding a whimper tumbling into the car. He plays with your bundle of nerves for a minute more before slipping two fingers down and slipping them inside you.

Your fingers dig into the sleeve of his suit, clutching it as he pumps in and out of you. He works himself in, up to his knuckles. Your thighs part a little more to give him some space to work with. He shakes his head and playfully tuts at the display of need.

“Poor baby, Daddy got you so worked up, didn’t he?” he coos softly against your head.

You nod quickly. All your focus is on keeping quiet as his fingers move between your walls as you clamp around them. He smiles and continues lightly. It was your birthday so he would be nice, wouldn’t try to embarrass you too bad.

You’re so wrapped up in the throes of ecstasy he’s bringing you that you don’t even notice when the car has stopped. The only thing you notice is his fingers are now gone and you feel painfully empty.

Your eyes dart up when you lose the warm, filling sensation. Unlike usual, you contain your whine of protest as you realize your moments away from getting what you really wanted.

Like a movie of the beginning of the evening playing in reverse, you both make your way back to the elevator. He keeps a firm hold on your hand as he takes the lead. You stumble behind, all but collapsing in his arms once you're in the elevator. He leans down into some sloppy kisses. Your tongues meet, and your lips smoosh against each other fervently as if you’re running out of time.

After what seems like forever, you hear that little ding, and he wastes no time pulling you into the apartment. You’re kissing on the way to the bedroom, hands roaming one another as you bump into furniture and nearly knock clutter off tables. His suit jacket is gone before the bed is even in sight. Buttons on his shirt had already been popped open as he throws you on the bed.

He climbs on top of you, continuing to make out with you for a moment. His lips start to head south, finding their place on your neck again while his hands start pushing up the skirt of your dress to bunch it at your waist. There was no teasing tonight. You were the birthday girl after all, and he intended to keep his word that the evening was about you.

His entire body drifts downward now. Placing himself on the end of the mattress, you nearly can’t see him from fabric that was hiked up. You can feel him though. Tongue and teeth grazing along your inner thighs, making you shudder.

In the midst of his frenzy of desire, he seems to remember something. He rises to his knees and starts to properly remove the dress from your body.

“Almost forgot to unwrap my gift,” he says.

He’s discarded the dress to the floor in no time. You lie there, on display for him in the lingerie he’d chosen just for this. His hands stroke your sides as he takes in the view of your nipples pebbles beneath the embroidered rosebuds, the soaked patch of fabric between your thighs. He’s lost in the sight of you, feeling almost as hazy as you did.

“Sweet baby, the only present I ever need,” he mumbles before lowering himself to the bed again.

He yanks down the pretty panties and tosses them over to sit with your dress. Then you finally feel some of the relief you’d been craving. He dives into your cunt, lips moving as he envelops your sex in the heat of his mouth.

His tongue strokes up and down the velvet skin. He laps at your clit, paying attention to the precious bundle of nerves that had you crying out and writhing in his hold. You reach down and tug at his hair, causing a loud groan to emanate from the junction of your thighs. He devours you with increasing fervor.

“Pussy’s so fucking pretty,” he mutters into you, “So cute. My favorite toy.”

Your head falls back while your hips roll against his face. Gasps and whines erupt from your throat freely as you rotate between clawing at the sheets and pulling at his hair.

“All for you Daddy,” you choke out, trying not to devolve into a complete mess just yet.

He smirks up at you, enjoying the pathetic lilt in your voice. His thumb rubs your clit in quick strokes now while his mouth takes a quick break to speak.

“That’s right, baby. All for Daddy,” he repeats, words coming out slow like you’d struggle to understand if he spoke too fast, “All mine whenever I want it. Isn’t that right?”

“Mhm, whenever you want,” you babble back.

“My smart girl,” he teases before returning to licking your cunt.

The room is vibrating to you. You’re so high in the clouds you can’t register anything in your mind that isn’t him. You vaguely feel him working two fingers inside you again as his lips wrap around your clit and suck on it in a way that causes you to shriek.

He laughs and continues on, holding your body in place as it jerks and seizes under his touch.

“Good girl, babydoll. Cum all over Daddy’s face. You deserve it,” he encourages you.

You keep cumming. Your slick coats his chin and mouth, and he laps up every drop that he can. He pleasures you through the high. Once he’s worked you over the edge, and he can tell you’re coming down, he pulls off.

“My favorite sound in the whole world. Those pretty noises you make while you let go for me,” he murmurs as he crawls back on top of you. He nuzzles your neck, leaving some kisses on the skin in the wake of your powerful release.

“You know that normally, I’d keep going, but I think we both wanna get to the next thing. Want me to breed that sweet pussy till I’m firing blanks,” he says.

He finishes pulling his shirt off and removes the clothing from his lower body quickly. He’s back on top of you before you even register he was gone. Lazily stroking his cock, he slides it between your folds, gently fitting up against you.

“My little doll ready?” he whispers.

You hook your arms around his neck and nod. He can tell by your languid movements that you’re almost loopy off your release.

“Yeah you are. My perfect girl,” he whispers as he slides in, sheathing himself in the warmth of your pussy.

He grunts and tightens his hold on you as he sinks all the way in with no resistance. Your walls flutter around him, already beginning to charge up the hot coils in his belly.

“Swear you were made for me,” he mumbles into your neck, “Pussy made for me to fuck full. Precious little face made for me to kiss.”

“Mhm,” you hum absentmindedly. You hook your legs around his waist, locking his hips against yours as he starts to grind himself into your cunt. His pelvis rubs against your sensitive clit while the head of his cock prods all your favorite spots deep inside.

He grunts and groans against your throat. Both of your hot and sticky skin slides against the others. His breath fans across you in hot pants as he starts working his hips a little harder, rocking in and out.

“Everything about you is all for me. My perfect doll. My good girl. My gorgeous fucking wife,” he growls.

You nod eagerly as you pull him closer. His hips smack against yours repeatedly, his heavy balls clapping against you with each thrust. Your breaths are shaky. It feels like you're headed towards another release with no ability to hold it off or stop it. You whine for him and squeeze around his length. So fucking tight, he actually whimpers to stop himself from blowing his load.

After a while more, he knows it’s imminent for both of you. He keeps pistoning his hips, rutting deep inside you while kissing you and capturing those sweet little sounds in his mouth.

“You there, babydoll? Gonna cum again for me?” he asks quietly, watching for the nod he knew you’d respond with. Once he sees it, he works a little harder, bringing you to the peak. “Yeah? You ready for Daddy to cum too? I know you are.”

With his voice rasping in your ear, his cock drilling deep inside you, it only takes one more thrust of his hips for you to reach the brink. You spill over into your second release. Your hips buck, and your chest heaves as the second round of ecstasy zips through you.

He hums as you contract around his shaft, clenching and drawing him in further, as if you’re crying out for him to give you his cum already. His cock twitches inside of you as he gasps and erratically fucks it into you. His entire body weight is pressing you down into the mattress as he lets go and gives up on not crushing you beneath him. It only added to the pleasure though. It was the closest you’d ever felt, and not only because his cock was bumping your cervix every couple seconds.

Soon enough, he’s spilled all that he can into you. He remains on top of you though, keeping you right where you should be. His arms snake under your body and the shift causes you to whimper since he still hadn’t pulled out. He holds you to him like you really were his dolly, peppering kisses along the side of your face and dragging his nose against your head.

“So good for me, like always,” he mumbles.

You reciprocate the affection with a few lazy kisses of your own. Your arms rest around him with no actual grip, simply just a way to show you return the sentiments.

The two of you just lay there like that for a little while, taking in each other, enjoying the peace that comes with release. You break the silence soon enough with a whisper.

“Think this has been my best birthday yet.”

He smiles and smooches you a few more times. “You deserve it, baby.”

“Thank you for making it perfect for me,” you say and tighten your limbs around him.

“Mhm,” he hums like it’s nothing. He then pulls back a little and looks down at you. “I don’t know why you’re talking like it’s over though, sweetheart. There’s still a few hours left of your actual birthday, and even then, I’m not gonna let some numbers stop me from fucking my gorgeous wife.”

You return the smile and pull him into a few more pecks.

“And I wasn’t lying, we’re going until I’m absolutely certain you’re knocked up,” he murmurs as he rocks his hips against you again, drawing a soft whimper from your throat, “And you know how precise I am. Probably shouldn’t make any plans for tomorrow, actually, probably need the whole weekend too.” He looks at you with a cocky smile before continuing the roll of his hips.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

1K notes · View notes

tinyluvs · 9 months

Note

Soft Reid NSFW headcanons? PLEASE !!

your wish is my command, tysm! *mdni!!*

he loves boobs, making you lay down so he can flop down on top of you, using them as pillows, big hands cupping them through your top, thumb stroking against the side gently

he's a fiend for your pretty lingerie, rubbing his fingers over lace and embroidered flowers, eyes widening when you gasp at the friction over your nipples

it escalates most times, his hands slipping under your top to inch it up until cold air is causing your nipples to perk up just before he's pressing gentle kisses there and when your hands find their way into his hair, he starts to suck and pinch

you whine for him to touch you more, just anywhere and he's all, "i know honey, i'm getting there," while pressing kisses over your ribcage, hips and tummy

he will eat you out for hours. laying between your legs, letting you pull at his hair, just making you come over and over again while his fingers stroke up and down the backs of your shaky thighs

he ruts against the bed, whining and huffing to himself, muffled by your wet cunt, almost edging himself over and over again but never giving in

your mouth around his cock? he's a mess, "fuck, baby, wait" when you're trying to swallow him down in one, "honey, please" when your tongue is tracing up the vein on the underside

he's so gentle though, raking his fingers from your hairline and backwards, keeping your hair off of your face while you suck him

a tad harsher when you don't listen to his warning, "i'm gonna come, no," he's tugging on your hair pulling you off until the tip is just between your lips, "shit, please, wanna come in you" he's all whiny, eyes pleading until you pull off of him

he's a sucker for missionary, wanting to be able to see your face when he pushes into you, stretching you around him. wants to be able to look down to where your joined to see how wet you're getting him

did i mention he whines? face hidden against your neck, whining and panting, raspy and light, breath fanning against your skin

praise !!!! "feels so good angel," "you're so good for me, doing so well, i love you so much" "look at you, my sweet girl"

he knows when you need to come, watching your chest, tits, rise and fall faster, feels your thighs practically vibrating against his hips, huffs when you tighten around him

"i know angel, hold it for me," his lips press against your forehead, "i'm so close, you're doing so, so well"

he kisses you when you both come, it's messy while you whimper into his mouth and he grunts into yours, kissing you all the way through it

he keeps kissing you after, letting it get slower and slower, your bottom lip slipping between his as you tap out. he repeatedly mumbles about how much he loves you while you're brain kicks back into gear

cockwarming is always guaranteed, he turns you both slowly until you're on top of him, head lolled against his shoulder while he strokes gentle patterns all over your back

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #❥ my spencer works #❥ spencer reid headcanons #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid fic rec

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thatonebabybat · 5 months

Text

Being Masc & Goth

This blog usually isn't fashion-focused, but I was thinking about alt fashion and how it's sometimes a struggle to figure out how to style things in a masc way if you're interested in darkalt fashion, but you don't want to go too casual or basic with it. So I thought I'd throw together some tips, link some DIYs, and maybe throw in a few moodboards. I want to preface this with one thing: You do NOT have to adhere to traditional gender roles. Fuck anyone who tells you that you do. If you're a guy and you want to get into alt fashion don't let anyone tell you that you can't pull off a skirt or a dress or a strappy top. Literally the whole point of being alt is Doing Whatever The Hell You Want Forever. However, not everyone feels comfortable in that (I made this post because I'm transmasc and sometimes the long gothic dresses make me dysphoric), and not everyone is safe to do that ( as much as it sucks ass, if you live in a conservative area sometimes it can be genuinely dangerous for guys to wear makeup and dresses in public, and your safety should always come first), so I thought I'd lay out some tips on how to dress alt and masc from my own experience. I'm still learning so feel free to leave your own advice in the replies or reblogs! General Styling Tips: - Jackets. Jackets, jackets, jackets. Something about a big jacket always seems to give an outfit a more masc energy, and adding a cool jacket to an outfit can be a great way to elevate it and add some extra visual interest. I like black blazers, leather jackets, and black denim jackets in particular, but vests (formal menswear ones or more casual denim or leather ones) can work well too, especially in hot weather. - Any basic black pair of jeans will look 100x more alt if you loosely attach some chains to the pockets or belt loops. Also, pants with wider legs tend to look more masc than tighter fits. not sure why. Slacks can also be a really good and underrated option. - If you want to find good headwear, cool sunglasses have never failed me. You may be able to take some inspiration from Ouji fashion as well, but that's just my personal taste. - If you have a basic piece around, you can add pins, patches, safety pins, etc for a more casual look, or if you're going for something more formal, trims and lace details and embroidery can really add interest and elegance to it. (if you can't sew, you can order iron-on embroidered patches online or find them in craft stores that'll do the trick just fine.) This can take your pair of slacks or plain black blazer and turn it into a piece of formal gothic menswear you can make a staple of your wardrobe. - Find inspiration in your favorite goth artists. There's a lot of really cool goth music out there and a lot of those bands get really innovative with their looks! Figure out what you like about their style and try incorporating a few things in, it's fun! - If you have an alt wardrobe already but it just seems like something's missing or it could use some interest, try switching up the silhouettes or adding an extra layer! Seriously, don't be scared of playing with textures and sleeve shapes! I see a lot of dudes who just wear a band tee and a pair of jeans all the time, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, that can be a great look! But I think a lot of dudes just genuinely think that that's their only option and that everything else just "wasn't made for them" and that makes me a little sad. shred up some shirts and layer them, wear some bell sleeves, throw some extra safety pins or studs on, have fun! No one said masc fashion couldn't be fun. Unisex/Masc DIY Videos I Found:

youtube

... And Some Inspiration!

[These are all goth music artists, I wrote the band/artist names in small text on the images that were not already watermarked for those who are curious]

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donatellawritings · 1 month

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idk what this but reader has a collection on panties and Rafe goes crazy for it.😶

rafe is such a loser when it comes to lingerie lol

you were not shy about showing off your body. you loved wearing obnoxiously mini micro-skirts and skin-tight low rise yoga pants, you especially loved the slight peek of the waistband of your panties that shined through. sometimes, you’d even allow the ridiculously thin band of your thong to sit a bit higher on your waist. you felt a light need to show off your underwear, mainly due to just how expensive the flimsy fabrics were. rafe didn’t mind swiping his card, if it kept you dolled up and content, he was also secure enough with himself to where a swell of pride who burst in his chest whenever you’d bend over and your lace panties would come into view.

dressed in your plush robe, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you struggled to choose which pair of panties you would wear for the day ahead. your wispy eyelash-clad doe eyes widened at the wide array of thongs and panties that filled the shelf of your dresser. you loved accessorizing and contrary to popular belief, your selection of underwear was, in fact, an accessory. with a defeated sigh, you licked over your pouty lips, “papi, can you help me with something?” you called out, huffing with a frustrated pout as rafe’s heavy footsteps grew closer and closer to you.

acknowledging you with a chaste kiss to your temple, rafe snakes a toned arm around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder as his gaze followed yours, “y’having trouble picking one?” he questioned, earning a nod from you as you wordlessly pulled away from him, taking a seat at your makeup cluttered vanity, mentally checking out of the frustrating, yet feeble task. rafe was quick to scan the nearly full drawer, the wide array of pinks, lace, and silk underwear causing him to swallow thickly — he needed to see you in every single one. “what about this one, mama?” he held up a baby pink thong with black lace trimmings.

with an annoyed roll of your eyes, you shrugged, “i already wore those, papi — i don’t even want to go out anymore,” you whined, tears of frustration glazing over your usually bright eyes. there goes your spoiled little girl peeking through. “nothing in there looks pretty,” you continued your rant, your words falling deaf to rafe’s ears as he sifted through the drawer, licking over his dry lips as the varying underwear, his mind focused on how he’d push the expensive panties to the side as he fucked you.

rafe’s bright blues widened as his finger hooked into the baby pink a white thong that was adorned with an embroidered pink ‘R’. completely dismissive of your whiny rant, rafe dropped the dainty material atop of your vanity, “put that on, then show me how it looks — m’gonna be doing some work in the office,” he spoke sternly, lightly nudging your chin with his finger, silencing you as you parted your swollen lips to speak. truthfully, rafe didn’t have any important duties to tend to, he simply needed to get away from you before you could see his already tenting hard-on.

you were quick to comply, allowing your robe to carelessly pool on the polished hardwood floor as you stepped into the thin material, gently sliding the thin waistband to sit comfortably on your hips as you your plump lips expanded into a knowing smile at the sight of the baby pink ‘R’ that was sewn into the thong, covering your pussy. your stomach turned with a blushing embarrassment at how giddy the panty made you. crossing your arms over you fully exposed breasts, you scurried out of your bedroom. rafe’s harsh typing pattern can be heard throughout the hallway as your pranced into his office.

rafe raised his head from his laptop with a stoic expression written on his handsome face as he watched you stand awkwardly on your tippy toes, your arms concealing your supple breasts, “don’t do that shy shit, mama — i’ve seen it before,” he sighed — running hand over his shaven face as he laid back in his leather chair, spreading his legs as he shifted his hips. catching just how shy and coy you were being, rafe shut his laptop, pushing it to the far side of his desk.

he’d be damned if you felt anything less than his pretty girl.

“c’mere,” he huffed, his eyebrows furrowed as you walked towards him, your arms remained crossed over the swells of your chest, a slight smile prodding at your swollen lips as rafe gently grabs ahold of your arms, pulling them away from your chest, “there y’go — y’so fuckin’ pretty,” rafe ogles shamelessly, earning a ticklish laugh from you as he pressed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your tummy, causing your hands to softly cradle his head. rafe continued kissing your abdomen, his lips stretching into a knowing smirk as you threw your head back, sighing as rafe brought his lips to the thin strap of your waistband, tugging on it with his sharp teeth.

allowing the strap to snap back against the skin of your hip, a shocked squeak left your swollen lips as rafe’s eyes became hooded, his pupils dilating as he pulled away from you, “get on the desk, keep your legs open,” your doe eyes flickered with confusion as you quickly complied, keeping your shy gaze on rafe as you walked towards the desk, a soft gasp leaving your lips at the feeling of the cold and sturdy wood biting at your plush skin of your ass. with a shaky breath, you leaned back on your forearms, keeping your legs spread as your feet dangled off of the edge of the desk.

“those pretty fuckin’ panties — gonna keep ‘em on while i fuck you, mama,” rafe sighed, his eyes handing now as you lick over your swollen lips, humming sweetly as rafe unbuttons his slacks, pulling his briefs down just enough to free his hard cock, “y’already fucking ruined ‘em, so fuckin’ wet already,” he adds, rubbing his swollen tip up and down against the dampened spot of your panty, pressing his tip against your clothed hole, eliciting a desperate moan from you.

“papi, please fu—” you whined, biting down into your bottom lip as rafe waved a silencing hand, before pulling your panty to the side, his eyes greedily drinking in the slick glisten of your wet folds and puffy clit.

sliding his thick cock into you, with ease, rafe leaned down, one of his arms flexed as he held himself up on the desk, while his free-hand cradled your head, pushing your forehead flush against his. rafe couldn’t help but smile at the way your doe eyes stared dreamily at the way his hips rolled against yours, your lips parted as you struggled to get any words out, aside from a few gritted moans.

parting his lips as means to mock you, rafe’s eyes gazed into yours as he watched you fail to say anything coherent, the sound of your soppy pussy squelching pathetically with each lewd thrust, leaving you a cock-drunk mess, “c’mon, mama — spit it out,” rafe teased, nodding as you simply blinked at him.

swallowing thickly, you let out a shaky breath, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you wrapped your arms around rafe’s warm neck, whimpering into his collarbone.

“can’t even fuckin’ talk, huh?” rafe chuckled, a low groan leaving his pink lips as he brings his arm around your back, relishing in your sweet moans and whines as he fucked his hips into you, “i know, mama, let it out,” he cooed, his thrusts remaining quick and firm as you cried into his chest, your wet pussy squishing and squelching as you sucked in a sharp breath.

“hmph! s’too sensitive, papi,” you shuddered, pulling your head away from rafe’s neck, your jaw slack open as you stared down at your conjoined hips, your wet eyelashes batting as your watched rafe’s pelvis grow sticky and shiny from your creamy wetness.

pushing your head to lean back against his chest, rafe’s thrusts became hard and deep, earning a high-pitched yelp from you as his hips harshly slapped into yours, “y’can fuckin’ take it, baby — fuck, be a good girl and take it.”

#asks #anon #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #sweetheart!reader

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shibaraki · 5 months

Text

THE VANISHING MOON ┊ TSUKISHIMA KEI

tags: GN reader, post timeskip, exes to lovers, fluff, emotional hurt + comfort, reader is a writer, alcohol consumption, mutual pining, getting back together, kisses, weddings, previous ‘mutual’ breakup, happy ending

wc: 4.2K

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved love stories.

The first time you picked up a pen with the intention to write you’d been looking for a specific someone. To pour love into and be loved by. Conjured from the recesses of your mind, a soft smile from the boy you liked, one prepared to whisk you away from the converging angst that came with your adolescence.

In later years you looked inward, searching for yourself. To satiate your loneliness through self introspection. Ink blotted fingers working arduously at the knots that make up the soul. Knots that were once straight rope, simple and without weak points. And when you failed to love yourself you turned outward, exploring the web that made up the world.

You saw that other people loved stories, too. That there would always be at least one which speaks to them in some way and stays with them. You coveted that reality; to be something another person could love, and look back on with fondness. For your words to strike such a chord that they’d become part of another’s tapestry. To live on. Never again be forgotten, even if it means being an echo of something.

That yearning accompanies you up the cobbled footpath. The crisp air pinching the tips of your ears. Soft, muted chirps rippled throughout the treeline. “Wow,” you murmur, breathless. Arms sticky with perspiration, leg muscles tingling in exertion after walking the steep hill.

The reception venue sits on the end of a private road, concealed by threadbare canopy. Under an open sky there lay every shade and stroke of colour. Dappled sunlight casts shadows across the grass and your eyes are drawn to them.

“Wow is right. They’ve done an incredible job,” Sugawara airs his appreciation as he walks at your side. His voice is awed, and his cheeks are red. “I can’t believe they managed it. Karumai Gardens are notoriously stingy for booking events”.

The wedding invitation shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Remaining some of your closest friends, Kiyoko and Tanaka had already confirmed your attendance long before the formal invites were sent out. You even found yourself on the end of multiple phone calls over the months assisting a panicked Tanaka with writing and rewriting his vows.

Despite that, your stomach roiled at the invitation on your kitchen counter, and your heart crawled up into your throat. Because suddenly it was too real.

Everybody would be there.

Tsukishima would be there.

You’ve been a high strung for most of the day, hyper vigilant to the point of fraying. The ceremony was beautiful. Kiyoko looked ethereal draped in her white lace gown, a delicate veil cascading down her back and rippling down the aisle as she walked. Tanaka was striking in his dark blue suit and embroidered waistcoat. Sitting at the forefront, you remained steadfast in your ignorance of Tsukishima’s scrunity and dabbed at your face as you cried.

You missed having his attention. Missed the subtle stroke of his sharp gold eyes across every part of you as though it were Tsukishima’s hands themselves. A scant, cowardly part of you considered not attending the reception, grateful that he hadn’t approached you yet. If he would at all. Kei could be unbearably prideful about these things. But what do you know?

Nothing. After all this time you probably know nothing at all.

“I think he wants to talk to you,” Sugawara says, drawing your focus to the present. “It’s obvious he’s missed you”.

You edge past the increasingly dense foliage with intent, your fingertips outstretched to brush the near-blooming plants. “Who?” you ask. Sugawara’s grin turns wry and he threads his arm through yours.

“So petty,” he murmurs, patting your bicep. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But he’s single, and has been staring at you all day. I thought I should mention it”.

“Well you’ve mentioned it,” you return without true malice, squeezing him back. Sugawara’s lips parted in a sigh, and for a brief second, you saw a wistful expression beneath the lighthearted veneer. It stirs unease in your chest and you add, “I just don’t want to make a scene”.

“You really think that’s what it’ll come to?”

Memories unearthed from the deep recesses of your mind. Packed away into tight spaces and left to collect dust where they can’t hurt you. They awaken easily, triggered by a simple question, and with such clarity that you wonder if you ever forgot them at all.

Soft, deliberate touches. Long, warm embraces, swallowed up by his large frame. Graceless laughter—the ugly kind that makes your stomach hurt. Languorous kisses, biting kisses, chaste kisses, clumsy kisses. Good morning and good night kisses. Bickering over breakfast. Bickering over dinner. Wandering, calloused hands. Pressure behind two fingers, splitting you like soft fruit. A sharp tongue and sharper words. Holding hands in bed, anchoring yourself to him like you were afraid he might float away in the night.

Life became busier than either of you expected. Kei landed an opportunity to play for a division two team in the V league alongside his work at the Sendai city museum. Your publisher's demands increased. Kei’s priorities shifted. Resentment crept in. He started to forget things. Small promises and favours, like getting the grocery’s or making it home for date night. They felt so significant at the time—things you deemed indicative of his commitment to you, without communicating as such.

Fractures formed in your relationship. You ignored them in favour of keeping the peace, hoping to address them when the timing was better. Only with hindsight can you say that was the wrong choice. The fractures contracted, expanded until it grew into a yawning cavity with one of you standing either side of it. A slow decay.

“No. No, it wouldn’t,” you tell Sugawara. Tsukishima has never been a shining paragon of virtue but he wouldn't do anything to disrupt Tanaka’s wedding. “I’m just nervous. I haven’t seen him since…”

Sugawara hums his acknowledgment. You’re adrift as he guides you into the venue holding the wedding reception, welcomed into a kaleidoscope of colour. Carefully crafted floral arrangements line the hall. Half of the building is a greenhouse conversion, and natural light filters in through the high, arching ceilings, illuminating the dance floor. You take in the surroundings as your senses are enveloped by the pleasant din.

“Look, there’s Yachi and Nishinoya,” Sugawara tugs on your arm and calls out, “Yachi! Noya!”

Nishinoya crowed, leaping forward to gather you and Sugawara into a blistering hug. Barely two extra inches on him yet larger than you remember, skin kissed by the sun and his hair handsomely coiffed. His waistcoat creases awkwardly with the stretch of his body while you sink into his warmth and feel your cheeks ache.

“Man, I feel like I could scale a mountain! It’s so good to see you guys again,” Nishinoya reclines to get a look at you both and firmly takes you by the shoulders. “You have a lot to answer for,” he says with mock seriousness.

“I do?” you laugh, skull knocking side to side as he shakes you.

“I read your book on the plane”.

Your laughter putters out. You grimace and clear your throat, “Oh—really?”

“Most of us have. We wanted to support you properly,” Yachi admits as she steps forward to hug you. She’s smiling when she pulls away, faint laughter lines deepening.

Sugawara nods and pokes at your waist, “Don’t look so embarrassed. It was amazing”.

“It made me cry!” Nishinoya effuses. He sniffs, and to your mortification he looks like he might burst into tears again. “There was this one line—gah, no! I can’t talk about it. Get over here, I need to hug you again”.

“Thank you, Noya-san,” you wheeze at the arms constricting around your midsection, eyes clenched shut to repress the impending sting. You turn your head, nose knocking against his temple as you peer at the others. “Thank you all. I mean it”.

Yachi squirms, her smile quivering. “I’m really happy you made it today,” she says once you’ve been released. The unyielding pressure of Nishinoya’s embrace lingers like two phantom limbs. “You too, Nishinoya-san”.

“It’s amazing you’re upright. I thought for sure the jet lag would get to you,” Sugawara laughs. He utters a quick apology to the server passing with a tray of drinks. “Didn’t you fly in from Barcelona?”

“Yeah. Should’a been heading to Andorra but I wouldn’t miss my bro’s wedding for the world,” Nishinoya’s voice drifts as his eyes follow the alcohol. He plucks a glass in one swift motion and holds it high, “Salut I força al canut!”

Yachi watches him throw back the drink with poorly veiled anxiety. “Ah, speaking of, we should find our seats. It looks like the cake cutting is starting soon”.

“Good call. We’re getting in the way of the preparations. And I think you’ve left Asahi alone for too long,” Sugawara claps Nishinoya on the shoulder. “Looks like he’s been accosted by Saeko-san”.

Nishinoya pivots on his heel, whip-like and buzzing. You’re not sure which name he reacted to more. Asahi or Saeko. “Where?” his gaze locks in on the pair across the room. “I’ll talk to you guys in a bit!”

Gone in a blink. “He never slows down,” Sugawara sighs, shaking his head fondly. “Guess that’s my cue,” he says before parting ways. Yachi waves after them.

An idea strikes you then. “Say, Yacchan. You’re next to me, right?” you glance toward the long tables set up around the dance floor and meet her gaze with a suggestive smile. “Would you want to sit next to Yamaguchi instead? I don’t mind swapping”.

Their relationship had blossomed over the past few months. A long, slow burn finally come to fruition, new enough that mention of it usually makes her turn pink. But the light in her eyes dims at your suggestion, and rather than flustered, Yachi looks uncertain.

Her fingers form a loose clasp around your forearm. “Tadashi is seated next to Tsukishima,” she explains gingerly. You feel yourself freeze and the kind motion of her thumb strokes circles along the inside of your wrist.

You let out a shaky exhale. “That’s okay. I don’t mind,” you tell her before the consequences of what you’re offering can really be cemented. Yachi’s eyes widen, her grip tighter on your hand as you squeeze back in an attempt at reassurance, knowing your smile looks brittle. “It’s probably for the best. We haven’t… talked yet”.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure”.

“Are you sure you’re sure?”

“Hitoka,” you laugh, bumping your shoulders together. “I promise I’ll survive”.

You regret it not two minutes later.

Anticipation fizzes under your skin as you spot him. On approach you give him a cursory look over, the harsh beat of your heart ricocheting in your chest. Tsukishima looks good—he always does, but today, dressed in his dark, double breasted suit, with the golden hour light carding fingers through his neatly styled hair, you think he’s never looked better.

It is disconcerting to see him again and realise that your feelings haven’t changed much in the slightest.

You sit in the chair beside him. You see his spine draw taut in the corner of your eye and feel an oscillating loneliness; so alike those final few weeks together that cold dread seeps between the spaces in your ribs and steals your breath.

“Tsukishima,” you incline your head, impersonal and cautious, hating how foreign his surname is on your tongue.

A beat passes before he repeats your name in greeting, soft as a psalm despite the dour expression on his face. You’re overcome with the urge to poke the uncomfortable crease in his brow. To smooth it out and kiss the skin there, the way you used to do.

You shift in your seat. The arms curve around your midsection and knock against your elbows as you fiddle with the table cloth, “I told Yacchan that Yamaguchi could have my seat so they can sit together. I hope that’s alright”.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” and you know the clipped answer is reflexive by the way his jaw locks in frustration at himself. Bracing for what you’ll say next.

Only, your mouth curls up a little, and you exhale a short laugh through your nose. You haven’t seen him this skittish since your first year of highschool. You consider that maybe you aren’t the only one who’s scared. That things are the same and they are not the same. The thought is bittersweet, but it’s nice, the way his trepidation gives way to muted awe, how he sends you sidelong glances when he thinks you’re not looking.

The music picks up in a grand crescendo as the newlyweds enter the hall and the reception begins with a raucous applause. A rich aroma unfurls as the food is served, the depth of the flavour layering over the already present notes of wildflower and honey. Drinks are handed to the guests. Generously. You swirl the liquid gold around the rim of your glass, luxuriating in the syrupy inebriation of a gently oaked chardonnay.

“So, uh. How’ve you been?”

Tsukishima, to his credit, does not startle at the question. “Fine,” he says, and you think he might leave it at that when he adds, “The museum received another new Crinoid collection last month, so I’ve been preoccupied”.

You grasp at the conversational thread, not wanting him to stop, “Crinoids?”

“Marine animals. They still exist today, though not as common. You might’ve heard of sea lilies and feather stars,” he shrugs halfheartedly, not daring to look away from his deep fried tofu, though it’s clear he can’t help talking about his work with pride. “Ours are from the Triassic period”.

“Just like the, uh—” you click your fingers to conjure the name from thin air “—Gojirasaurus! Your favourite, right?”

Tsukishima pauses. It’s a fleeting thing, but you notice. The corner of his lips curves into a barely-there smile. He seems pleased that you remembered. You busy your hands with repositioning the cutlery a fourth time so maybe, hopefully, you can distract yourself enough not to say something stupid like: “If I visit, will you show it to me?” or “Do you miss me, like I miss you?”

You clear your throat. “I hear the Sendai Frogs have been doing well, too. Congratulations on moving up to division one”.

Those aureate eyes are sliding to you again, bright and searching. Tsukishima arches his brow in a delicate mocking gesture that was unbearable when he was sixteen and even more so now. “Keeping tabs on me, are you?”

There’s mirth trickling into his voice, giving it a familiar smarmy lilt. A wave of emotion washes over you. Embarrassment and heart-twisting-happiness. You shove some rice into your mouth and chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “No. I read about it in the latest Volleyworld issue,” you reply unconvincingly.

“You don’t read Volleyworld”.

“How would you know that?”

Tsukishima takes a shallow breath and nods. The warm gloam of late afternoon mellows his taut features. “I’ve been reading too,” he says after another sip of wine. “I saw you finally published your book”.

Dread seized the inner workings of your mind and the apology on the tip of your tongue curdles. Time ticks by, one sickening second after another. Your eyes dip low to avoid his gaze—which for some reason, he refused to direct anywhere else.

Your recollection of the break up itself was hazy at best. There had been no raised voices, no desperate movie-esque kiss, no slammed doors. Only grief filling your body like lead, and jumbled, half-hysterical thoughts of ‘Is this it? Are we giving everything up, just like that?’

You remember everything that followed, though. The inability to accept reality. It is said if a writer falls in love, that love can never die. And so you kept writing, and writing, and writing; perceiving love through different lenses, creating different endings; relying on metaphors of natural forces and disasters, of cannibalism and gluttony, of journeys and patience to make sense of it all. Six months after everything fell apart you completed the final draft of ‘The Vanishing Moon’, dedicating a final testimony to him in small print on the first page.

Given the choice, I would’ve rather had you at my side than any one of these words.

Has he seen it? Is that what he’s getting at? Did he read through all eighteen chapters and meticulously pick out the remnants of him you pressed between the pages?

“Noya said it made him cry,” you eventually reply.

Tsukishima signals for another drink. He takes two flutes from the server, handing one to you. You accept it with a soft ‘thanks’, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in your fingers. “Nishinoya-san cried when he found out swans can be gay,” he points out.

“You cried at The Land Before Time”.

“What kind of cold hearted bastard doesn’t cry at The Land Before Time?”

Laughter bubbles up in your chest as the initial dread ebbs away and the tension seeps from your shoulders. Tsukishima dips his chin, a small smile as he mutters, “That’s better”.

In the centre of the hall Tanaka cradles Kiyoko in his arms, now surrounded by clusters of their loved ones whirling with their own partners, a hurricane of colour and laughter and love. Tsukishima observes them with a solemn gleam in his eye. That could’ve been us, his heart says in chorus with your own.

“Do you remember that time we danced together in third year, at the summer festival? I tried to kiss you and gave you a nosebleed”.

“I remember”.

Your gaze drops to the bottom of your glass. At the time you had been mortified. Now it’s a story you would share at your own wedding table. The thought cleaves your heart in half.

“Do you remember the song that was playing?”

“Why are you bringing this up?” Tsukishima snaps. “Yes, I remember everything. I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to. Happy?”

There’s a surge of something devastating in your chest, like love and heartbreak all at once, strong enough that you feel as if your ribs might splinter just to make room for it. But they don’t—and you don’t, because you’ve felt this before, and your body remembers.

You remember.

Suddenly the room is too hot, and the music is too loud. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a minute,” you murmur, pushing your chair back and getting to your feet.

“Wait,” in one short breath there are long, calloused fingers circling your wrist. You do wait. Tsukishima hesitates, the pressure elevates, and as you lean away your palm slips into his, skin kissing skin. Then he’s standing, towering over you. “I’ll come with you. I know a place that’s quiet”.

Tsukishima does not let go of your hand, and you don’t let go of his. He walks a few steps ahead guiding you through the throngs of people. Some familiar heads turn, their attention drawn immediately to the place where your bodies meet, and shooting you various looks of encouragement or confusion. Yamaguchi sees you pass and his mouth splits into a grin so wide that his eyes crinkle.

You’re not sure where it is he’s taking you, only that his promise of finding quiet is true. The cacophony simmers and soon enough the festivities are muffled entirely. Just when you think you’ve wound up at the end of a corridor it curves, leading to a pair of french doors. “Come on,” Tsukishima ushers you out onto a balcony.

What you’re greeted by makes your breath catch. The world as it is around you comes to a standstill, the fabric of reality peeling away. An orange yolk dips below the horizon and the sunset hour drapes across the ostensibly endless meadow hidden behind the Karumai Gardens. Rolls of grass sway in the wind, peppered with wildflowers of every shade.

You move to stand at the balcony’s edge. Tsukishima drops his hand, and your fingers curl into your palm. The shadows grow longer, the air cooler. The evening insects begin to sing. You’re warmed still by the wine thrumming in your bloodstream.

“Hey, Tsukki?”

He comes to stand beside you, folding his arms atop the wall. “Don’t call me that”.

“Oh,” you swallow against the swell in your throat. “Sorry, Tsukishima”.

Tsukishima’s expression twists into a scowl. There’s a blush creeping toward his ears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says. You blink and wait for him to elaborate, which only flusters him further. He stares stubbornly at the border. “Just—call me as you normally would. Anything else sounds wrong in your mouth”.

The name leaves you in an instant. Hushed—not whispered, “…Kei”.

He makes an inquisitive noise, strangled as it is.

“You didn’t say what you thought of it,” you continued. “My book”.

You feel a rush of adrenaline when Kei doesn't answer immediately, unable to read his expression. “Good,” he says, veiled indifference belied by the restless twisting of a cufflink between his forefinger and thumb. “It was good”.

“Well, that’s practically a Pulitzer recommendation coming from you”.

“Shut up,” he huffed, gaze flitting across your face and dropping to your tentative, uncertain beginning of a smile. He wets his lips and glances away. Heartened, both by the alcohol and his reciprocation, you press closer in small increments, and Kei flowers under your gentle persuasion, like he always used to.

“This okay?”

In lieu of a reply you are ensconced by a warm, firm chest and two strong arms around your back that show no sign of withdrawing. The low timbre of his voice vibrates under your cheek, “Who was it for?”

“Hm?”

“The book. You dedicated it to someone”.

You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re glad, in part, that he can’t see the emotion written plainly on your face. “Nobody,” you answer lightly, angling to position your ear right over his beating heart. “Just an ex. You don’t know him”.

“Right,” Kei says, drawing out the ‘l’ the way he does when conceding a point he knows he’s correct about. It sounds so fond that you want to curl up where you’re resting, like some benevolent cat. “Guy must’ve been a dick”.

“I was too. We made a lot of mistakes, I think,” you say. If nothing came of this you would at least be able to revisit it; to pick at the scab and stop the wound from closing over too soon. There’s comfort in that. You crane your head and meet his gaze, nervous but unwavering. “But even if he was kind of a dick, I miss him a lot”.

“Yeah?” his eyes soften, half lidded and dark. “He misses you too”.

“He told you that, did he?” your mouth trembles. Kei dips to bring your foreheads together, and the hard frame of his glasses bumps your eyebrow. You share a shaky exhale of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, brow pinched with regret. Again, “I’m sorry. I know I fucked up”.

You feel your jaw quiver. The familiar burn behind your eyes. Tears so close you can taste them. “We both did. Don’t shoulder the blame on your own”.

“But I made you feel lonely,” he says.

You tuck your chin and whisper, “Yes”.

His fingers splayed across your cheek, pinky tucked beneath your jaw as he cradled your face in his hand, tilting until you’re staring back at the reflection in his pupils. Puffy and damp, eyelashes clumped with tears. What a sight.

Kei strokes his thumb in an arc beneath your eye. A tear beads on his nail, slipping into the crook of his hand. The inexpressible tenderness is overwhelming yet you are underwhelmed by the inaction. You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed by the whine in your voice as you ask, “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Demanding as ever. What happened to ‘please’?” he murmurs. And then he kisses you.

It is slow at first, hesitant, leaving room for you to pull away. But with every languid movement of Kei’s lips came a sweet affirmation, that which you took and took until you no longer felt unworthy of receiving it. His hand flutters at your waist. You take a shuddered breath, pressing closer into his embrace and deepening the kiss. In his distraction you take him by the wrist, encouraging him to touch. There’s an immediate, reverent grip at your hip, kneading over your clothes.

This is what you’d been longing for. The feeling you couldn’t transpose; that which people have long tried to capture. The esoteric, giddy anticipation and joy that bubbled between two people on the precipice of something bigger than themselves. Even with an affinity for stringing words together you are scarcely able to describe it. Immense and overwhelming, light and dark, tender and everything in between.

Kei pulls away for breath with a low, vibrating hum, wearing a smile that you thought you’d never see outside of your memories. Almost boyish when he looks at you. The distance is an inch too many but it is just that—an inch. “Eager,” he teases, only to kiss you again, twice as eager.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved love stories.

But love doesn’t only exist in stories.

You remember that, now.

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyu x reader

903 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

Text

Run Away To Me (III)

AU MASTERLIST || FINAL CHAPTER

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, blood, angst, protective Johnny, violence, hurt/comfort, speedy relationship, talks of sex/intimacy (nothing in depth) & virginity pertaining to marriage, religious symbolism & mentions, etc.

A/N: That's it for this AU - onto Werewolf!Ghost next.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You’re kept behind Johnny’s back as you both exit the treeline, and you feel yourself quivering with unease.

What would Lord Wilkin do to you? Drag you back? As the shelter of the trees leaves you, you tighten your grip on the blacksmith’s tunic, breathing out a shaky puff of air. Cobalt eyes look back at you, trying to reassure you as the first calls start up from the guards.

Johnny whispers out, his accent deep. “It’s gonna be just fine.”

“She’s here!”

Hounds dash forward but with a sharp bark of, “Get back!” They skid along the dewy grass and halt with rabid barks instead, fur bristled and spittle flying. The men surge forward, and you gasp as they grapple at Johnny’s arms.

One tries to snatch at the neck of your cloak, but a strong arm traps the armored wrist and twists it sideways, snapping the bone as you stare wide-eyed as the guard screams; jerking back and stumbling to his knees. With a fluid motion, Johnny grasps the handle of the downed guard’s sword as he writhes with agony, unsheathing the blade and laying it upon the breast of the other with a dim call.

He glowers and glares, eyes like burning coals.

“I suggest you step back,” you watch, holding your breath from over his shoulder as the blacksmith leans closer to the man, one arm kept behind him and resting on your hip. “‘Fore this gets bloody.” The guard raises his hands and backs up quickly, fear splashing his eyes.

All of the others watch nervously from the sidelines, either reigning in steeds or holding their hands to the pommels of their weapons. Waiting.

You swallow the saliva in your throat and ask, quietly, “Are you alright?”

“Don’t twist your head about me,” Johnny reassures, eyes traveling around the homestead as the guards shuffle and share glances. The Scot grits his teeth and tries to think of a way out of this.

If you had run, just as the man had anticipated, they would have caught up in no time.

The clop of hooves from your left draws both of yours’ attention in a quick succession of perked heads and pounding hearts. You feel your blood drop to pool in your feet at the face that meets you. Johnny growls and shoves you farther into his shadow as Lord Wilkin comes closer with a horse of bay coat, decorated with all the finery of his station. Gold, great coat with an embroidered tunic, and riding boots. Strapped at his waist was a dagger encrusted with gems made of blood and diamonds.

Never mind all that wealth, he looked ugly and cruel to you—a glint of arrogance in his eye. You glare and grit your teeth, rage coming off in waves from Johnny as well as yourself.

Wilkin’s old face is the same you remember smirking down at you as he drove the ceremonial blade into your palm, and your entire hand flinches in memory, digging your nails into the Scot’s waist.

He puffs a sound of reassurance but otherwise doesn’t move an inch from in front of you.

“And who might this be holding my bride hostage?” The Lord’s voice is sly. Black eyes dart up and down Johnny’s form and the man you latch to has to restrain a rabid grunt of anger. Stay his molten tongue. “A blacksmith?”

“It’s MacTavish, to you,” Johnny calls, tone dead and laced with danger. Your body restrains a shiver as his warm skin sinks into you; the memory of his lips on yours is addictive, even now. “Be best for you to remember it, eh? Considerin’ I’m the one who supplies your fucking guards with arms.”

Lord Wilkin utterly ignores him, his gaze sliding to you halfway through his sentence. You stay silent, lungs tight inside of your ribs. The unfortunate truth was that Johnny still had more standing here than you did, anything that you said would come up as null and void; in fact, it would be better to be completely mute.

But with how the Lord was looking at you, your teeth had to bite into your lip to silence yourself. You had to come up with a way out of this. Soon.

“Take my bride away from this brute. Chain him.” Wilkin hides a smirk, pulling at his steed’s reigns to shift the beast away with a snort and a flick of a dark tail. “I want his head on the block in the town square by tomorrow. I have a wedding to finalize.”

“Let the fires of hell go cold if I go anywhere with you,” you say, stepping out slightly from behind Johnny, much to his hesitation, but still, he watches over you and lets you do as you please. The blacksmith would rather not have this Lord’s eyes anywhere near you if he’s being honest with himself.

This Scot had made you bold—his words gave finality. If he said nothing would happen to you, you believed him. Perhaps that made you foolish, but his word meant far more than anyone else. Johnny kept his promises.

Lord Wilkin’s horse is jerked to a stop, its head snapping back and forth with a frothing mouth. His eyes travel back and a slow sneer pulls at his lips, sitting under a mustache of white hair. You restrain a cringe, and Johnny barks an order to the advancing guards to stay back as his large feet set themselves.

“If they grab me,” he mutters, speaking over his shoulder, “run, Little Lady. I’ll be sure to give you an opening.”

Your eyes widen in shock and horror, but before you can answer, your husband-to-be calls to you. The Blacksmith’s expression is the picture of defense as he angles the sword in his grip at the far-off Lord when even the barest hint of his tone indicates you.

A low grunt was ringing in his throat like that of an animal—as if the bear fur inside of the house had come to life and was a shield of muscle and iron shavings.

Your eyes blink, and something begins forming in your head, but it’s gone before you can really grasp it.

“My Lady,” Lord Wilkin states, his guards taking up places beside him, glaring. The hounds have still not gone silent, and Johnny eyes them nervously. “I believe you’ve been overcome by some…” He grumbles and gnashes his teeth in rage. “Spell of disobedience. I’ll have a physician examine you and keep you in my home for a stay of recovery—”

“The lady said she’s not goin’ with you,” Johnny seethes, pupils slits. Your hand rests on his back, spread over the swell of his broadness as you feel his pulse. Hot and racing. “So pack the fuck up and scatter! And take the bloody mutts with you!”

You spare a worried glance at the back of his head. The blacksmith can’t possibly believe that threatening them will make Wilkin pull back, and when he meets your eyes, you know he doesn’t just by the wrinkles by the sides of his lids.

He’s nervous, shifting his feet in small increments to try and push you nearer to the tree line. Your body hardens.

You’ve already made your mad dash—there was no more running. Certainly not if your new center of affection and protective build wasn’t coming with you.

Wilkin raises a brow. “Quite demanding for the man surrounded…Woman!” You flinch at the sudden shout, the quick rage of his snapping head, and the quick switch. Johnny glares and his hands are strangling the hilt of the sword, white and held still. The Lord barks, “Your parents gained valuable gifts for your well-bred hand—would you enjoy them being taken away? I can do so.” Dark eyes sweep over you. A smirk. “Forget this spark of madness and consummate what you know to be done.”

Johnny lunges with a snarl, eyes burning with horrible anger and the intent to cut the head off the snake. The guards meet him as he yells to you, “Run, Dearie!”

But your feet are stone.

When the man realizes you’re going nowhere without him, his eyes gain a sheen of panic as his blade clashes with sparks of steel with another. A dance of feet and wit that speaks to years of careful study; practice from both parties. Wilkin looks smug as Johnny lets off a loud curse and has to turn his attention back to the fight.

“Seems the woman’s come to her senses. Praise God, perhaps there’s hope for her yet.” You breathe heavily, hands clenched under your cloak. Your mind wished for a dagger—one to show this pathetic excuse of a man how much it hurt to try and have someone mark you for the pleasure of ownership. Like some common branded cow.

Wilkin nods to you as Johnny gazes on in horror, narrowly dodging a swipe at his side before he elbows a guard in the face, splaying him out along the ground in a heap of leather and fabric.

“What are you doing?” He yells, voice booming out over the forest. You don’t look at him before you suck down a breath and steady your nerves; standing taller and setting back your shoulders.

The trained grace that had been shoved down your throat on a silver platter came back easily. Forks and spoons sliding under your teeth, all engraved with images depicting holy scenes of sanctity while the blood of your flesh spills at the poke of thorns sitting on your head. A halo of bloody martyrdom.

A tool.

You can be a tool, you decide, flinching when Johnny’s body is tackled to the ground; form ricochetting as he growls and writhes. His sword clatters to the ground. They have him in binds, cheek shoved into the dirt, and great shackles that skirt the line between animal and human restraint. A guard’s hand forces his face deeper into the earth and Johnny bellows, ordering with wild eyes, “Run, dammit! Get out of here!”

Sending a stiff glance, you stare blankly into cobalt eyes and blink away just as quickly, standing and staring down Lord Wilkin as he watches in contentment at the scene of the raging blacksmith and his seemingly placated bride. At the twitch of his lips, you raise your voice high.

“Release him.” Dark eyes turn to slits before they slowly slither back to you.

“Pardon?” You grit your teeth and feel Johnny glaring, a snarl ripping out of his mouth as he coughs through the grass.

“Dearie, no!” A punch hits his stomach as he’s jerked up to his feet and attacked; chains rattling as hounds bay for blood. You sense your gut roll with bile as Johnny fights back—tree-like legs laying a kick square into one's abdomen.

The two guards hang onto his arms, shouting at each other to try and restrain him further.

“I ask my husband-to-be to release the man that graciously gave me shelter during the storm,” staring hard, you’re trying to stop yourself from running to Johnny. You know you have nothing to help him with—it would be pointless and utterly stupid.

Your brow raises, but a nervous twinge is still in your voice. “Does My Lord not take pride in the fact that the men of his fiefdom are so open to taking in those less fortunate than themselves?”

Wilkin’s cheeks go tight, skin pulling as the eyes of the free guards travel to him. The struggle gradually dies down across the way; cobalt eyes darting back and forth with panic.

“Don’t bloody do what I think you’re doin’!”

A trade would happen, but only for a moment. In your head, you were whipping past possibilities and scenarios. There was something on the cusp of discovery—so close to giving you the upper hand, but what was it? Like a thorn in your foot, you continue to walk over it; ready and willing.

Johnny had your back last night, it was time you had his.

“Let the honorable blacksmith go,” you level. “And name your price.”

The response is immediate. A flashing smirk. “Deal. I’ll take my bride back, just as was intended.”

“No!” Johnny’s tunic is all ripped up, tears from gripping hands only making the damage larger—nail scrapes along his hardened flesh from the guard’s ruthless hold. Skin white from the force.

If you look at him, you’ll lose your mind.

Under your cloak, your hands shake as Wilkin descends his horse, coming closer.

“Keep your fuckin’ bastard hands off of ‘er!”

Think. His footsteps march closer—thin and sly-looking like a sharp-eyed Egret. Think!

Before his hand can snap at your wrist your mind sparks in a panicked moment, and you’re exclaiming with a loud voice before you can stop yourself or think the sentence through. You stutter at first but quickly gain your footing.

“I-In good faith, I cannot accept—I am unfaithful to you, Lord!”

The entire homestead goes still, and those struggling with Johnny’s binds freeze. Lord Wilkin goes confused, his wrinkled visage peeling in like a rotted corpse. But no faces are quite as good as the blacksmith’s, who goes so pale and wide-eyed before he can school himself in secrecy; his jaw loose. His heart pounds in his breast, shreds of tunic waving in the wind. You continue with utter conviction, so much so that you even start to believe the lie you’ve crafted with a swift mind. “See the evidence upon the blacksmith’s sheets—where we lay last night in the throes of lust; I am no longer a pure bride.” Breaths get caught in throats; eyes bugging to a nonsensical degree. You swear someone choke. Your face burns as you continue, faking a shameful falling of your chin.

“I cannot marry you!” It’s almost enough to break you, the realization on Johnny’s expression as he darts his vision to your hand—which you hide inside your cloak; wrapped around your waist with false fear. Blood on your hand.

Blood on the sheets.

“It would be shameful to do so, do you not understand? I am not but a used good.” Fake or not, the last comment still makes Johnny’s hands clench his jaw working itself with a restrained growl.

But pride furrows his brow. A smirk was forced back from his lips.

You just took away what Wilkin loves more than anything else—control.

The older man halts, his mouth going agape and a vile sheen coming to his cheeks. He stutters, “I...what?” It’s a violent snarl, but the man balks back from you as if you’re infected. “You dare lie to me, Girl? Play off this fallacy?”

“It’s no lie,” you say, gaining confidence with how Johnny watches you closely, only once rumbling at the guards that hold him when they tighten their grip. “The evidence is plain as day in the Blacksmith’s bed.”

Wilkin’s eyes flash, and he barks an order to one of his men to enter the main house. Only when his dark eyes are off of you do you spare a look at Johnny.

You sag softly, shoulders losing some tension.

Blue eyes lock with yours, firm. Sending an apologetic squint of your eyes, the man only slightly shakes his head, mouthing out, “Don’t worry your little head about it.” A quick, barely-there smile flashes his lips—but then you have to look away before you let the shaking of your body be known. No matter how hard you plead with your muscles to stop vibrating, they do so instinctually.

You know what lying about this will cost you, successfully or not. You’d be labeled for the rest of your life; separate. But Johnny’s eyes on you ease the pain. Lets you breathe. If the worst thing that could happen to you was living out your life in his homestead and being at his side, then perhaps social execution was the only thing that pleased you at the moment.

You just hoped that it didn’t lead to an actual execution.

“Lord!” The guard returns as Johnny continues to watch you, panting, with sweat dripping down his chin. His ribs hurt something awful, but he only glowered at the men holding him and stayed his violent tongue to let you work your strengths like fine iron wrought in the fire of his hearth.

Wilkin’s lackey was hurriedly carting the length of the Blacksmith’s sheets behind him—clutching in his fist the vibrant red stain of your blood and displaying it to the light. Thinking about what they saw it as, instead of your wound opening, you cringe and restrain a sound of disgust.

Even being around Johnny for as little time as you had, despite the kiss and infatuation, you had forgotten how crude the rest of these men could be. It’s like this sanctuary of trees and dew-soaked ground was in an entirely different world, and these intruders were wrecking it. By Johnny’s face, he felt the exact same.

Half of the Scot wanted to save your honor and tell them you were lying, but the desperation of the situation was far more serious than that. He couldn’t let you go back to Wilkin—he’d promised. So Johnny took down a tight breath and stayed silent; face burning and glaring at the ground with clenched fists shaking for blood.

The guards holding his arms slightly release their grip, listening intently themselves.

Blanking, the Lord’s eyes lock onto the stain as the man brings him the fabric. Not a moment later his hand snaps out to drag it to his face, looking daggers into the redness as his eyes snap from place to place.

“...You did this on purpose,” the slow dead tone takes you aback, hands around your abdomen digging further into your flesh as a dread spills into your stomach with blossoming unease.

“M-my Lord?” Johnny tenses, eyes sharp like a wolf.

“You did this so you could spite me, you little,” the encrusted dagger is unsheathed from its scabbard. “Whore!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The blacksmith bursts with wrath, jerking forward so violently that he drags the guards holding him along the ground, their calls of alarms making the hounds go ballistic.

You take a small step back as Wilkin gets nearer to you—the point of the blade setting itself right under your chin; tilting your head up. Breath going tight, you stare with wide eyes and a pounding heart.

He wouldn’t kill you…would he?

The Lord’s eyes are brimstone and deeper than Hell, holding sinners in the bars of his pupils while devils of brown specks prod the pool of obsidian. If a man could be on fire and still be living, Wilkin was an inferno incarnate.

“You belong to me,” he grits his teeth as Johnny’s voice blurs in the background, having to be forced to his knees by three men yet still nearly throttling one with the force of his arms. “I paid for you.”

“Then you should find it a lost investment,” you shakily reply, not knowing how you have the strength to stare into Wilkin’s eyes. But you do. You stare and you hold your hands tight into your flesh until the skin under your gifted fabric aches. A small prick of the blade makes you suck in a tight inhalation, a tiny droplet of crimson sneaking down your throat.

It’s a battle of wills, and before you say what you’re thinking, you’re nearly sure that in less than three seconds you’ll be grasping a slit throat.

You clear your throat softly and speak in a dim whisper. “How will your guards react to you killing a woman in anger?” Expressions freeze. “What does God say about that?” You swallow, throat bobbing. Hit him where it hurts. “...What would the townspeople say? Mercy is not above our great Lord, that is an earthly prospect. I believed that was your greatest quality, is that not what everyone believes?”

Wilkin stares, his mustache twitching. Dead face. Dead eyes.

It’s a long, long moment before anything else happens, and when it does, you flinch.

The dagger disappears from your chin and you instantly back up several steps, breathing unevenly. Pointedly, you place your uninjured hand on your slowly dripping skin.

Johnny’s taken down three of the guards, their faces bloody and your blacksmith’s nose broken. He yells and screams curses. You feel your heart constrict at the sight, pain zooming down your veins in bursts of adrenaline, but it’s seconds later that Wilkin speaks, loudly so that everyone can hear.

“I would never harm a woman,” you hold back a violent scoff as your hands shake, wanting to be taken into Johnny’s arms now more than ever—feel his heat and inhale his scent. Wrapped in a blanket of steel and ash. “In my good graces, I will pray for your salvation, Miss. But being soiled—”

“Bloody piss off!” You send Johnny a quick glance at the outburst. He’s forced back face-first into the ground with a grunt and sputtering of grass in his mouth.

“I no longer wish to be joined with you in holy matrimony. It would be dishonorable to my station.” Dark eyes swim with hatred, but the tone of his voice is easy and pliable. The Lord was a good fake—he plasters on an appeasing smile for his men and waves a quick hand in the air as he turns to his horse. “Release the brute. Let the pair roll in their sin of carnal desire. God will be their judge.”

Johnny struggles as they unlock his chains, but the second he’s out he’s springing full-force towards you; his skin sliding across your cloak as you’re guarded far better than any loyal hound or King might be.

“Johnny,” you grapple at his biceps, sighing raggedly in relief. He doesn’t brush you off, only curling his side around you and angling his head to the mounted horses; pupils slits and lungs heaving. His nose looks awful. “Don’t, don’t,” you plead, “It’s over.”

The man doesn't respond, looking feral as his hair goes this way and that; coiled around your body about to strike at anything that comes close.

“I’ll kill him,” Johnny grunts. “I’ll rip his damn throat out for speakin’ to you like that—for puttin’ a knife to your throat. I’ll rip him into bloody bits and pieces, you just say the word, Little Lady.”

Your arms encase the one of his you’re holding, dragging the limb to your chest. Cobalt eyes dart back to your face. It’s a long moment, but his expression softens slightly—the wrinkles beside his eyes easing while his lips twitch down. Blood drips off his lower face, spread around his under eyes, and stains his stubble with crimson gore.

“Please,” you mutter.

He looks down and nods stiffly, even if he doesn’t like it.

The horses are rallied, the hounds called, and with a throw of dirt from their hooves the convoy is off. Silence returns in slow increments of nothingness.

Wind, the call of a bird, and the babble of a far-off stream echo through the pines. Only when they’re entirely out of sight and the dust has cleared that Johnny swiftly moves, picking you up into his arm. You squeak as he carries you speedily into the main house, rushing to place your backside on the table.

His large hands immediately tilt your head up to spy the tiny mark from Wilkin’s blade, and you feel his shuttered breath against your throat as you go heated.

“J-Johnny, what are you…” But you don’t get an answer, the man disappearing before coming back with a wetted rag. Once more, the man cleans your wounds with delicate presses of the cloth—ridding you of all blood.

His jaw is clenched, and as you watch, your hand in your lap twitches.

In a broken act of pain, you lightly run your fingertips over the swelling of his nose. The man stops, but serious eyes stick to your throat—unable to meet your gaze; there’s a red sheen to his neck and ears. Anger or embarrassment, you know not.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, guilty, and his widened gaze rips itself to lock with yours. Your vision blurs, afraid to touch him fully as if it might burn him.

“No,” he’s shaking his head. “No, you never tell me that. What you did, Dearie…I,” Johnny stutters, closing his mouth before opening it again. “I should be apologizing to you. It wasn’t fair to make you do that. Any of it.”

A wobbly smile flicks your lips.

“Are you saying I should have left you?” Johnny moves his face farther into your hand, blood contaminating your skin but you don’t pull away. You let him sag into your palm instead, reveling in the scrape of his stubble against your soft hands.

“I’d not see you harmed,” is all he answers.

You sigh and blink away your tears, stealing the man’s rag so you can dab at the bloody nostrils. Johnny’s pulse is still fast under you—like the pound of his hammer.

“Well,” his eyes dig into yours and you smile. “I believe my priorities are the same. I may have only met you yesterday, but I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

“Aye, well, everyone will know how fond soon enough.” He’s more worried about this than you are, a stubborn and almost grumbly tone to his words.

“Is my purity that much of a sore point for you?” You can’t help but tease him, even in the circumstances. “I had no idea.”

His face goes more crimson than his own blood, and he blinks at you rapidly.

“I…That isn’t what I…” You chuckle gently and press your forehead to his, whispering.

“I was just joking.” He sags with relief, his hands coming up to rest on your hips with the care of a man unbefitting to his station. Again, you have to ask yourself how an individual so intimidating can be, at the same instance, kind and generous.

His lips mutter, brows tight. “Are ya sure you’re alright, Hen?”

You think, wondering about the run through the forest when this all began, the plea for shelter. Such a deep coincidence that you’d end up here—perhaps the most safe place in the entire fiefdom. Everything had lined up perfectly, barring a few bumps in the road. You doubted Wilkin will mess with this place after the spreading of your ‘promiscuous’ behavior.

He was too sly for outright violence if given the option.

“Yes,” you know, and thin your lips. “What about your nose? A-and everything else?”

“Don’t think about it,�� the Scot smiles, eyes still glinting with worry. So many hours and you’d barely gotten any sort of break. “I just want you to rest, then, eh?”

Maybe it was outwardly obvious, but the entire ordeal had left you drained; shaky, and still coming off of panic. What if they had killed Johnny…?

You’d go back to Wilkin and live as his wife, producing heirs and locked away in his estate for the remainder of your life. What kind of existence was that? No, you knew, you’d never live like that.

You’d never live like that here.

With a shaky breath, you watch Johnny’s eyes flash with concern for a moment by your silence, but before he can speak you’re pressing your lips to his in a firm and honest kiss—sinking in every emotion you could.

The man grunts in surprise, but doesn’t move back; if anything, his grip on your hips increases, sliding up to your waist.

After a moment of tasting flesh, you pull back and whisper, “Thank you.”

Johnny breathes heavily, a glimmer in his blues, “Well,” he grumbles, “I’d say you did most of the work.”

You both share a chuckle before you’re lifted again, carried gently over to the bed without sheets. You’re placed atop the bear fur and wrapped in that instead after your cloak is unclipped and folded neatly, set on the floor. Outside, the call of a far-off storm hits your ears and you blink to the window.

“Stay with me?” You ask before you can stop yourself or can even think.

The blacksmith’s breath catches, his fingers flinching as they were pulling the fur tighter around your neck.

It’s a moment before he asks in a quiet tone.

“You sure you want this, Dearie?” His lips go tight, eyes narrowing in inner conflict. You stare and already know the answer just by how he speaks to you. “I’m no King. I…I can’t give you fine jewelry or fancy clothes. There’ll be no grand suppers beyond the game I catch or what I can afford to buy. Long winters.”

The air goes quiet with worship, and your eyes go wide with care. His broken nose is crooked, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. You wonder if that was for your sake or his.

“I’m not someone worthy of your beauty,” he rubs at the back of his head, bending down by the edge of the bed. “Certainly not your smarts. I’m only a blacksmith, Little Lady.”

“Only?” You huff a chuckle. Johnny looks at you in confusion as the black clouds outside roll in, seen through the window of this quaint and lovely home. The hearth is warm, the scent of food still in the air, and the memory of a dash through the forest behind you.

“If you’re only a blacksmith, Mr. MacTavish,” you’re sent a fake stern look as the back of a hand goes to brush your cheek. You shiver. “Then I’m only a runaway bride.”

“Aye,” Johnny admits with a growing smile of adoration, “but still a bonnie one, at that.”

“...Stay with me?” You ask again.

The man breathes out, “Tell me why.”

“The trees do not deny what they need to make them whole, Blacksmith,” you whisper. “Why should I?”

He’s clambering under the fur, wrecked clothes, and blood on his face but never feeling more whole. Is so little a time enough to fall in love with someone? What deity had tied your souls together so soon with ribbon soaked in rainwater—tinged with blood?

His lips meet yours as you sigh into him, hands gripping his arms as they circle your waist tightly. Johnny breathes you in and lets his hands span your back, fingertips digging into your clothes. Into his mouth, you whine a plea for him to keep you close and hold you tight. It’s all your need from him. It’s all you want.

For the wise know best: there is nothing better than a simple life.

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