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upsidedownwithsteve · 5 months

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[4.5K] Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

A/N: sorry, no advent blurb today as we’re v tired and v sick and writing doesn’t sound fun. but please have an old fic that was once on the masterlist

“This is a bad idea,” you whispered, shy, nervous, wanting to curl into yourself.

Steve stayed still behind you, your back to his chest, his legs bent and framing your own. His hand stroked over your knee, a safe distance, one that didn’t add too much pressure to the situation. The boy pressed a kiss to your cheek, nose nudging your temple. “We can stop, if you want.” His voice was quiet and filled with soft sincerity. “It’s okay.”

But you’d asked for this, face flushed, squirming on Steve’s bed sheets ‘cause how on earth did you go from watching Fast Times at Ridgemont High to talking about sex to telling your best friend you’d never had an orgasm?

“What?” He’d asked, face soft with shock. “What about those six months you dated that guy, whatshisface? Liam?”

“Lewis,” you’d corrected, fingers pulling uncomfortably at the blanket Steve kept at the end of his bed for you. “And no, he just couldn’t get me there, I guess. Maybe it was me. It’s gotta be me, I can’t even make it happen myself.”

Steve had paused at that, looking at you with parted lips and soft eyes ‘cause you looked so sad, so frustrated, defeat taking over from the embarrassment you’d felt in admitting such a thing.

“It’s not you,” he’d said, determined. “He should’ve taken his time with you or— or, found out what you liked.”

You huffed out a laugh at that, humourless and tired. You shrugged, hands falling into your lap. “How’s that fair when I don’t even know what I like myself?”

You don’t know what happened after that. Just that the movie was paused and the evening outside turned to night, Steve’s blue room turning navy in the shadows, the dull glow of his bedside lamp making your bare legs turn apricot and rosy in the light. His hand looked so big against your knee, like he could swallow you whole.

You asked him. Voice quiet, words making the boy’s cheeks turn pink. Asked him to help, to show you, to tell you what you were doing wrong which sounded so ridiculous, because Jesus Christ, it was your body, for fuck sake.

You sucked in a deep breath. “No, it’s fine. I’m just— being stupid. We can keep going.”

You felt Steve relax a little behind you, his body sinking into the pile of pillows at his headboard, your body falling into his in turn. His thumb drew circles on the side of your knee, a touch you’d felt before: during a horror movie in the dark of the cinema, in the front seat of his car when you cried about a boy who wasn’t him, when he’d argued with his dad and you piled yourself into his lap for comfort.

“Are you sure?” Steve whispered and his voice was right by your ear, lips almost touching the shell of it. It made you shiver, spine tingling. “And you’re not stupid. This, the way you feel. It’s not stupid, okay?”

You realised he was waiting for you to answer him, so you nodded, chest tight at his earnest words, always trying to make you feel better. He’d once told you when you were both only thirteen, that that was his job and he’d proven it true ever since.

“Yeah, m’sure.” You let your head rest against his, cheek to his chin, day old stubble rough against your skin. “Thanks, Steve.”

A silence swept over you both, not exactly uncomfortable but not an easy one either, not like it usually was. ‘Cause your skirt was hitched up high, the hem of it falling towards the tops of your thighs when you’d bent your knees and sat between Steve’s legs. He’d patted the space there and your body had burned, but you’d obeyed all the same. His thumb was still rubbing circles and your hands lay awkwardly in your lap until finally, finally, Steve took them in his own and placed them flat over your thighs, his bigger ones covering your fingers.

“So you’ve never, ever—?”

“No,” you whispered it back, like a dirty secret. Something to be ashamed about. “Can't even manage it myself… it’s— fuck, I don’t know.” You choked off your own words, heated embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

Steve squeezed your hands, gentle, soothing. “S’okay. Do you, uh, do you try? A lot?”

He sounded nervous too and suddenly you were thankful for this position, eyes hidden from each other, knowing his cheeks would be flushed, too pretty to look at. You sucked in a breath and nodded. “Sometimes, yeah. I guess. It’s just— I either get interrupted or it doesn’t feel right and then the times when it does, I just can’t… can’t. You know.”

“Finish?” Steve supplied helpfully.

You nodded again.

“Okay, uh, why don’t you— do you wanna, try? Show me?” You heard him swallow audibly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and you felt his jaw tense against your temple, where you were leaning against him.

You stiffened, and Steve felt that too, so he tangled his fingers between your own and used his thumb and yours to skim up and down your legs. You wondered if he noticed how warm you were, if he realised you were running so much hotter than before.

“It’s just me,” he whispered to you, head ducked tucked down so he words fell into the crook of your neck. He sounded so soft, familiar, like the sixteen year old who’d picked you up from your shitty first date and told you that the next boy that hurt you would have to deal with him. “Do you trust me?”

You licked your bottom lip, mouth dry but you made a noise of agreement. “Yeah, I trust you.” You felt his smile, felt the affection ripple through him and back into you, ‘cause you really, really did. More than anyone, you thought.

“We can stop whenever you want, alright?” Steve said and you bobbed your head, suddenly feeling clumsy, fingers too small between his own, legs splayed out like a broken down China doll. You dug your toes into the mattress and breathed out. “Show me.” Steve whispered again. “Show me what you do.”

It took a second, maybe five, for your heart to stop rattling against your chest, for your bones to stop vibrating. But you took one hand from Steve’s and pressed it between your thighs, hidden under your skirt. Your underwear was still very much on and you were unsure how to go about that, so you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to find your clit the best you could under the cotton, shifting your fingers over the fabric.

Then Steve tsked, a soft sound that didn’t come across as reprimanding as it should’ve, but between that and his hand catching yours again, you stopped, unsure.

“You normally just dive right in like that?” Steve murmured, rubbing his thumb over your knuckle. “Christ, you gotta be nicer to yourself, babe, you need to relax more.”

“I do?”

Steve laughed quietly, a huff of spearmint breath falling across your cheek and wasn’t unkind, it didn’t make you shrink like you thought it would’ve. “Well, yeah,” Steve answered. “You gotta warm yourself up, right? Get in the mood. Hasn’t anyone taken their time with you? Made you feel like, uh, like putty?”

“Putty?” Your lips kicked up at the corners, lashes fluttering as your eyes closed, happy to listen to Steve and the smile in his voice. He sounded shy, and it was lovely, it made you feel better, warmer, ready for what was happening.

“Yeah,” he huffed. “You know, all gooey n’shit. Nice. Relaxed.” Steve sucked in a breath and pressed your joined hands to your thigh, his so much wider and covering much more skin. “You’re real cute, babe, someone’s gotta treat you the same way.”

“No,” you shook your head, trying not to sound too sad about it, ‘cause Steve’s hand on your bare skin was starting to make you feel real nice, warm, just like he was describing. Except you were anything but relaxed, heartbeat a livewire racing through your bones, a new pulse thrumming, stomach jumping at each touch. “You think I’m cute?”

You weren’t sure why you asked that, but suddenly, you were desperate to know.

“You kiddin’?” Steve said and you could hear the smile there, the one you knew so well. He leaned in, chin hooked over your shoulder when he felt you settle back against him, body more lax than before. His lips brushed your cheek when he spoke. “You’re the cutest girl in town, d’you not know that?”

You squirmed, too pleased with his comment but embarrassed all the same. Steve always gave you too much attention but it was the way it had always been, a little flirting over the diner table, his hand on the small of your back when you walked through too big crowds, an offered cheek for you to kiss goodbye when he dropped you home after school.

“Shut up,” you whispered, voice thick and quiet and caught in your throat. You didn’t mean that. You didn’t want him to shut up at all. And Steve knew that.

“Now, if you’re the cutest thing in all of Hawkins,” he continued, emboldened by the way you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, letting your fingers go soft between his own. “Don’t you think you gotta be nice to yourself?”

Your breath stuttered and hitched in your chest and despite the nerves that still pinballed around in your stomach, your thighs dropped open a little, the hem of your skirt hitching higher still and Steve swallowed down a curse.

“I don’t think I know how.” It was embarrassing, admitting it, cheeks on fire, nose scrunched even though Steve couldn’t see.

His hands swept up your thighs, taking yours with them, stopping short of creeping under your skirt before retreating back down to your knees. “Like this,” the boy whispered. “See? Nice and sweet. Slow.”

You wanted to let your hands fall away, wanted to feel Steve’s rough fingertips and wide palms span over your skin but when you tried to pull away, Steve only tightened his grip. “Ah, ah, c’mon. You can’t learn if I do it for you.”

There was a whine stuck in your throat; a bratty, moody noise that you didn’t dare let out in fear of being teased by the boy for all of entirety but Steve seemed to sense your frustration anyway.

“C’mon, you got this.” Steve pressed a quick kiss to wherever he could reach, a warm smack of his lips against the skin under your ear, right by your jaw. “Relax, remember?”

So you did, letting out a small sigh before sinking back into him, legs widening and letting Steve drag your hands up and down your thighs, your skin erupting in goosebumps every time you felt a particularly rough graze of Steve’s short nails.

“What d’you think about?” He asked, voice hushed, almost hoarse. It sounded dirty, like a secret you weren’t supposed to tell anyone else about. “When you touch yourself? What d’you think about?”

You pressed your lips together and shrugged, a gasp wrenching out from you when Steve moved your hands inwards, to the softer dough of your thighs, creeping higher and higher until you felt the cotton and lace edge of your underwear against your fingertips.

“I dunno,” your voice didn’t sound like your own. “Someone else, I guess. Someone’s fingers, instead of my own. Being— being kissed and their, their mouth. Lips. Tongues.”

If Steve’s hips twitched up into your own, you were sure you’d imagined it. But he took a second before he answered, nodding so his nose pressed into your cheek, his hair fell over your own.

“S’good,” he agreed, praising you like any teacher would. “What about their mouth, huh? Where d’you want it?”

You squirmed, face on fire, teeth chewing something rotten at your poor bottom lip and when you didn’t answer, Steve took your hand and placed it over your cunt, the cotton there suddenly more damp than it was before. You wanted to throw yourself out the window. Or worse, at Steve.

“Here?” The boy suggested. He wasn’t really touching you, just his hand over your wrist and fingers, guiding, pressing slightly. “Has someone done that to you? Has someone put their mouth here?”

You shook your head, unable to stop the little whine that came out with it, disappointment colouring the sound. Steve tutted, cooing at you with sympathy and he let out a stuttered sigh when you took it upon yourself to press two fingers closer to your clit, seeking out some friction.

“That’s a real shame, you know that?” Steve’s hands left yours, only to grasp your waist and pull you back into him a little firmer and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel him, hard under his jeans, pressed into the bottom of your back.

It only made you press your fingers into yourself harder.

“It is?” You were breathless, each word a huff of air, face screwed up and eyes shut tight as you tried to work out where you wanted your fingers the most.

“Fuck, yeah it’s a shame, babe.” Steve whispered. “Told you, didn’t I? You’re the sweetest girl there is. And someone’s not tasted you? Not told how sweet you really are?” Steve blew out a breath, as if exasperated. “That’s just unfair.”

“Steve.” You weren't sure what you were whining your best friend's name for. For release? Permission? Guidance? All of the above, maybe.

But Steve seemed to know, ‘cause he nudged your hand closer to your cunt, coaxed you into running your fingers over your cotton covered folds. “Yeah?” He asked and his voice was hoarse, a little wrecked sounding. “Ready for more? Feelin’ good?”

You nodded, clumsy, breath coming out a little heavier than before.

Steve let one finger flirt with the edge of your underwear, along the lace trim where your cunt met your thigh and he snapped the elastic against you, feeling brave when you pressed back against him, like you couldn’t be close enough.

“Want these off?” You heard him swallow hard, sounding quieter than before. “Don’t have to, if you don’t want to. We can do whatever—”

You lifted your hips in answer, one hand holding onto Steve’s thigh for support as the other dragged down your underwear and your cheeks cringed with heat as you caught a glimpse of how wet the cotton was. You balled them into your fist, shoving them to the bottom of Steve’s bed and they lay there like a flashing neon sign, all lilac and buttercream coloured flowers, lacy and mortifying.

Your skirt still covered you, hiding a lot from Steve. But the boy could look over your shoulder and see the way your chest heaved, nipples pebbled underneath your T-shirt, the one you’d stolen from him freshman year and made into a crop top. You were all legs, soft thighs, socked feet digging into his duvet, skirt flirting dangerously with all that bare skin underneath. He tried not to rut up into you, but he knew you had to feel him by now, his hard cock pressed against your spine, twitching at every breathy noise you let out.

“What next?” You asked and you sounded desperate, more pent up than you’d ever felt before and you wondered if it was really because you were taking your time with it, if all these slow touches really worked. You wondered if it was Steve. “Should I just—?”

Your fingers dug into your thighs, sitting over your skin alone ‘cause Steve was gripping at his own knees, knuckles white on the denim. “Fuck,” his voice cracked. “Just, uh, do what feels good, yeah?”

You made a sound of protest, frustration spilling up and out of your throat because this is where it went wrong, fingers fumbling, unsure where to touch to be able to coax you over the edge.

“Hey, hey, s’alright,” Steve assured you, whispering again. “Give me your hand.”

You did, without hesitation, and together, with Steve’s fingers twisted between your own, he guided your touch underneath your skirt. You held your breath as you felt your own fingers - and the boy’s - slip between your folds, your legs parting automatically for him. You felt his breath hitch and fall over your cheek as you let out a tiny moan, urging him on, your fingers following his as he swept up and down your cunt, gathering up the slick there before pressing your middle finger to your clit.

“Yeah?” Steve asked and he sounded awed when you cried out, a soft grunt that made him see fucking God. “That good?”

You could barely speak. “Yeah,” you whispered on a breath, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder, giving Steve an unobstructed view down your front, to the way your hands could be seen between your thighs, skirt rucked up around them.

“Atta’ girl, keep doin’ that, okay?”

You did as you were told, adding your pointer finger to the mix, rubbing the two digits over your clit in soft circles, panting every time you felt Steve’s fingers slip between your own. Steve’s free hand was on your waist, a vice-like grip that you weren’t sure he was aware of, his palm on the strip of bare skin between your top and skirt. Every time you let out a shy noise, he squeezed, kneading at the dough there.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, jaw slack as he watched you work at yourself, never letting go of his hand and fuck, fuck, you were so wet, velvet heat under his touch.

“D’you use your fingers?” Steve asked you, lips against your cheek, both of you leaning into each other as if you were unable to help it. “Inside? Do you put your fingers inside yourself?”

Twenty minutes ago, you would’ve died if the boy had asked you such a thing, but now? Now? Now you whined at it, cunt clenching around nothing at the idea of it and you shook your head, temple rubbing against Steve’s cheek in a way that killed him with how fond it was.

“Not really,” you whispered to him, ‘cause even with his fingers slipping over your clit, you were still so shy. “Don’t feel big enough, never- shit - never full enough.”

Steve swore his eyes rolled back into his skull, ‘cause all he could see was white, a blank flash over his vision that felt white hot. He rubbed soothing at your waist, let his fingers span over the width of your side, blunt nails sliding over your ribs. “Poor girl,” he sympathised and he smiled when you whined as he pulled your fingers away. “Shh, gimme a minute, hey? Here, just, try this, huh?”

You didn’t get to ask what he was meaning before the fingers that had been rubbing over your slick skin were in his mouth, two digits pressed to his tongue and Steve sucked. He licked over the pads, most definitely tasting you and you felt his chest rumble with a groan he tried to keep in. And then, as quick as it happened, it was over.

Steve brought your spit slick fingers back between your thighs, nudging the tips of them against your entrance. You keened, hips arching off the bed a little until Steve soothed you back down against him, mouthing over your jaw and cheek in a touch that definitely couldn’t be misconstrued as a kiss.

You sighed as you slid them in, two fingers fucking into yourself as deep as you could manage, slipping in easily with how insanely turned on you were. You hooked them up, like all the articles in the magazines you hid from your parents told you to do, searching for that spot that would apparently make you see stars. But you fell short, fingers not long enough and your clit was aching with neglect.

“Steve,” you felt close to tears, the usual frustration bubbling at the surface of your chest, ready to pop and simmer over. You’d have normally given up by now. “Steve, s’not working.”

“Gotta be patient, babe,” Steve assured you, “gotta be nice to yourself, c’mon, don’t let your head take over.”

But Steve saw the tear that rolled down your cheek and he caught your chin, titling your face towards him as he frowned down at you. You looked wrecked, heartbroken and all pent up, lips red and slick from where you’d chewed at them, eyes all glassy.

He shouldn’t have asked. But he was already in too deep. What does it matter now, right?

Right?

“Want me to help?”

He waited, one second, two, three and then you nodded, relief and disbelief filling his chest all at once. He swallowed back a broken moan and tapped his thumb at your chin, just catching your pouting bottom lip. “You gotta tell me, please?”

“Please, Steve, please. I want you to touch me.”

He’d died. He was dead.

But then you were pulling at his wrist and guiding it back between your legs, your fingers slick from where they’d been inside of yourself and Steve wasn’t sure he was able to handle it. His middle finger nudged up against your entrance and Steve felt it flutter, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was for you, not him.

He was rock fucking hard.

“Ready?” He asked in a last bid for confirmation. You were laying fully against him now, thighs pressed to his, skirt barely covering you and you nodded so furiously that Steve didn’t dare ask you to speak again. “Okay, I’ve got you, alright?”

His finger slid in so easily and you clenched around him, velvet heat that made his heart stutter and his cock kick up against your spine. You immediately felt the difference, the boy’s finger thicker and longer, already reaching parts of you that you’d never felt. You felt like you were going to burst.

“More?” Steve asked and his voice eas shot, eyes closing at the feel of you, your small hand wrapped around his wrist to ensure he wouldn’t stop and Steve wanted to tell you he’d never stop if you didn’t want him to, that he’d do this every fucking day if you’d let him. “Another?”

“Another,” you agreed and god, you weren’t holding back anymore, moans tumbling from your lips when Steve slid another finger in with his first, the feeling of your cunt tightening around him making you both cry out.

Your hips were shifting against him, listing yourself on and off of his fingers and he groaned, stuttered dirty, filthy words into your hair as he let you fuck yourself down onto his didgits. The friction was too much for him, his cock straining in the denim, weeping for release.

“Touch yourself, babe,” he managed to groan out, sighing at the sight of you doing what he told, hand flying to your thighs so you could rub messy, wet fingers over your clit. “That’s it, good girl. Jesus, are you close? I can feel you - fucking hell - I can feel you getting tighter.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, a sob ripping through your chest and Steve decided it wasn’t a good idea to ask, deciding that he needed to get you out of your own head so your body could take over.

“Do you like it when I talk to you?” He asked instead, a whisper against your ear, his breath warm on your neck, his fingers spanning upupup until they grazed the lace of your bra. You rutted against his hand harder, whining when he hit a deep spot inside of you, one that made your vision go blue-white. “You do, don’t you? My girl likes hearing dirty things, right? Like when I asked you if someone had went down on you? If you’d had someone’s tongue here?”

Steve slid his fingers in and out of you a little faster to get his point across, sweating when you moaned his name. His name. Your own fingers were moving with intent now; tight concise circles that were making your toes curl.

“Would you let me do that? Huh?” Steve dared to asked, grinning when you almost ripped the sleeve off his shirt as you grabbed at his arm, lips falling open in a long moan. “Shit, you look so damn pretty, you know that? I could do that for you though, if you wanted.” Steve’s eyes closed for just a second at the thought of it. “Could put my mouth on you, let you know if you’re really as sweet as you look—”

You seized up, body stiffening as you let out a noise Steve would never forget, a breathy moan of his name that he’d think about every time he fisted his own cock. He kept pumping his fingers into you, eyes wide as your own hand faltered and you shook, head slumping back against his shoulder as you decided to hold onto him instead, hands reaching back to grab at his shoulders, his neck, his hair.

Your pussy was a vice around his fingers, filthy, wet sounds filling his bedroom and he was pretty damn sure but he had to ask, he had to know—

“You comin’, babe? Yeah?” You nodded, frantic, eyes slammed shut and nose scrunched up all cute and Steve couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it. “Fucking hell, oh shit, yeah, there you go, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it—”

He wasn’t even ashamed that he came in his jeans like a teenager, in fact, he was a little insane with it. White spots over his vision as his cock twitched and jumped, letting his hips grind against your ass as you whined, your cunt still fluttering around his fingers as he slowed down the way they pumped in and out of you. He heard you swear when he finally pulled them away, slick with your release, sliding them into his mouth as if hiding the evidence.

Your eyes finally met Steve’s when you turned and flopped onto the bed next to him, mattress shifting as you both panting, chests heaving. He turned to find you already staring, eyes wide and cheeks flushed the prettiest colour, almost matching his own.

“Holy fucking shit,” you managed on a gasp.

“Told you,” he managed to say, fighting to keep the smile of his lips.

“What?” You frowned at him, wondering what on earth he wanted to say to you after that. He still looked like your best friend, still sounded like him too. Maybe just a little more smug. “Told me what?”

Steve took the time to push his finger into his mouth once more, enjoying the way your face burned, lips falling open as you watched, unblinking. He let his tongue wrap around it, chasing what was left of your taste until he let it go with a dirty pop.

“Sweetest girl in this fucking town,” he said.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot

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sturnioz · 26 days

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‘PASSENGERS TREAT’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, fluff

word count. 1.4k

❝just keep your legs open. you can do that for me, yeah?❞

content warnings. established relationship, explicit content, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, possible exhibitionism, finger sucking,

⌜ part one ͏ ⌟ ͏

“Me?”

Your mouth suddenly runs dry, not expecting Matt to be so honest even though his indications were already clear with wanting you—wanting to taste you.

You weren’t sure why you’re so surprised given that his cock was in your mouth moments prior, the weight of him still lingering on your tongue and the pretty sounds he made still echoing in your ears.

“Yeah, you,” Matt hums, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he motions with his head. “Get in the back, sweetheart.”

It was a little embarrassing how fast you scrambled out of your seat to climb into the back, knocking your knees against every surface possible and even bumping your head on the roof.

Matt laughs to lighten the mood as he follows closely behind, finding a spot between your legs as you prop yourself up against the door. The position is slightly awkward and there’s something uncomfortable prodding your back, but you pay no mind to either when you feel his hands caress your thighs.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you watch Matt’s hands slide down to your shoes, fingers untying the laces and gently pulling them off your feet before he makes his way back up to grab at the waistband on your pants.

You internally scold yourself for choosing this outfit choice as you raise your hips to help him, but it wasn’t your fault, it was neither of your faults. You didn’t expect this to happen, so why would you have worn something that gives easy access? (You wish you did, but maybe that could be a reminder for next time).

You hiss as the cold air hits your aching core, goosebumps rising to the skin and you twist around uncomfortably, causing Matt to meet your gaze with a reassuring smile.

“I’ll keep you warm,” He tells you, almost sounding like a promise. “Just keep your legs open. You can do that for me, yeah?”

Your pussy throbs at his words and you dumbly nod your head, staring at him with wide eyes as he presses a kiss to your knee before shuffling downwards. The placement in which you’re both in is a little cramped up, and you can’t help but wonder if Matt regrets offering to repay you back in the car, but all thoughts and worries get pushed to the back of your mind when Matt leans forward, his breath fanning across your skin.

A gasp fleets past your lips as Matt’s tongue pokes out, licking your slit carefully. The warm, wet muscle sends a shiver down your spine and your body tenses up, bracing yourself as your fingers dig into the seat below you.

“Stay still.” Matt tells you, his palms flat on your thighs to keep them spread apart, and before you could nod your head in a promise to stay still, you already feel his mouth on you.

Your head leans back against the window, jaw hanging low, eyebrows knitted together in pleasure. His tongue swipes between your folds, flicking at your clit before laying a gentle kiss or two. The gesture is sweet, you think, but all sweetness gets thrown aside when his tongue trails down, dipping into your wet hole.

You cry out at the sudden action, clamping your hand over your mouth to silence any more noises you make as you warily glance outside. The parking lot isn’t empty, it still has some cars parked in various spots but there’s no sign of people. It eases you and you relax, opting to bite down on your bottom lip to rake your fingers through Matt’s hair instead.

“Matt—fuck—” You whine, toes curling at how eagerly his tongue devours you, how he presses his face further into your cunt. Your fingers tug at his strands and the groan that rumbles in his chest vibrates to your core, causing you to gasp at the feeling and buck your hips up to his face.

Your pussy is throbbing, the ache in your stomach is unbearable and you feel hot.

One hand resting on top of Matt’s head and one pressing to the roof of the car, you really are trying your best to keep yourself grounded, not wanting to cum too quickly even though it’s clear that is exactly what Matt wants.

His gaze flicks up to meet yours from between your thighs, messy hair falling in front of his eyes as his tongue makes small circles around your clit, teasing fingers prodding where you’re desperate to have him. The way you’re reacting to him; whimpering and arching your hips closer to his face gives him satisfaction and he grins, dragging his tongue through your folds once more before flicking your sensitive bud and easing two fingers inside your tight heat.

You know you must look like a sight to see, face twisted in pleasure and biting down on your bottom lip to conceal the loud noises, fucking yourself on his fingers that curl inside of you, pressing down on your gummy walls as his mouth sucks on your clit, all while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

It’s when Matt moans against your pussy is what makes you body tense up, that band in your stomach threatening to snap and your hand curls in his locks, unable to control the noises that now escape you as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt at a fast pace, the wet, lewd noises inching you closer and closer to the edge.

One particular flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers is what completely throws you over the edge, your legs beginning to tremble around his head as that tightness in your stomach loosens, orgasm hitting you like a wave.

Your pussy throbs, your back arches off of the seats and your head is thrown back.

You’re a wreck.

The pleasure that overcomes you is intense and you struggle to stop the convulsions your body is going through, especially as Matt continues to work you through your orgasm as he licks your pussy. You squeal through moans, biting down on your fist while the other is weakly pushing Matt back to get him to release you.

He does after a few moments, finally allowing you to breathe and to come down from your high as he sits up on his knees, sucking his fingers clean before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You’re watching him with wide eyes as you try to wrap your head around what just happened, but Matt’s already leaning down to capture your lips with his in a kiss.

You can taste yourself on Matt’s tongue as it dips inside your mouth, and one hand cradles your chin to tilt your head upwards to help kiss you deeper. He tilts his head to the side as he leans over you, his body fitting comfortably between your open legs but the loud shrill of his phone ringing has his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Reluctantly, Matt parts from you with a sigh, reaching between the front seats to retrieve his phone from the cup holder. With a quick glance at the caller ID, his expression twists into annoyance and he presses the screen, bringing his phone to his ear.

“What do you want?” Matt’s voice carries a hint of frustration as he brushes his hair out of his face. Instantly, you recognise Chris’ muffled voice on the other end of the line. “Yeah?... Well, actually, we were just about to leave—” Matt sighs as he’s interrupted, his fingers rubbing his forehead as Chris rambles on about something.

You observe him, blinking up curiously with a smile on your face.

When Matt meets your gaze, another sigh escapes him. “Okay, alright. See you soon… yeah, whatever, love you too, kid.” As soon as Matt hangs up the phone, you can’t help but snort in response, causing him to playfully roll his eyes and throw his phone into the front seat.

“What did Chris want?”

“Leftovers from the restaurant we just had our date at,” Matt smiles at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief. You can’t help but let out a laugh, wondering how you’ll explain to Chris that you missed the reservation to do something completely different. Matt grabs your skirt and panties, handing them over to you. “We’ll just get him McDonald’s on the way home or something, put it in a fancy box and say it's from the restaurant.”

You look at him, raising an eyebrow as you pull your underwear up your legs, “You do realise Chris will know the food is from McDonald’s, right?”

“It’s Chris, sweetheart,” Matt scoffs as he helps zip up your skirt. His eyes meet yours, a smile forming on his lips. “He’d just be happy he’s got food.”

#©sturnioz #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets smut

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casualhedonists · 3 months

Text

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

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ch3rriiii-bunn · 1 month

Text

You belong to me

Paring: upper ranks + Muzan x Fem!reader

Synopsis: In different pov's, their jealously turn them a bit crazy

Content: possessiveness, jealousy, hinted smut, choking, fave grabbing, slight blood play, demon reader in Akaza, Nakime and kokushibo's part, kidnapping on Douma and Muzan's part, escape attempt, Muzan grabs you by the neck like that one guy in 365 days lol, arranged marriage theme on Muzans part

A/n: yall know that song by the weeknd? had to write some possessive jealous shit based on that song with some demons! WHAAAA I NEVER WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!🥴might do one with the hashira next🤭

Akaza

Akaza is known to not like his fellow upper ranks. You've seen it first hand when Muzan allowed you to attend an upper rank meeting since you became a demon by Akaza. He hated them all with a passion. Especially the ones ranked above him. With this knowledge, what in the hell possessed you to give any of them your attention?

Not just any upper rank, either. Douma in particular. In your defense, once Douma starts speaking, it's hard to shoo him off, especially given that you're much weaker than Douma is, so you play along to keep your reputation on a good note. You simply smile and nod at his nonsense. You knew Akaza wasn't going to step in since he'd rather run in the sunlight than talk to Douma if you were on your own.

How wrong you thought you were. Once Muzan actually left, Douma become more bold. Asking you personal questions, standing to close and even about to hold your hand, but before you could answer, you heard the sounds of blood splatter on the floor. Your eyes widened at how quick Douma's arm was severed.

"Oh, come now, lord Akaza. I was just joking-" "Shut up for once." Akaza snarled at douma in pure disgust. You wanted to say something, but you felt your feet leave the ground. Akaza had grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder and walked away from Douma while holding you. It always amazed you just how fast he was, but you knew how mad he was. The anger was just raiding off Akaza.

Akaza made sure to be far away from the other upper ranks in the infinitely castle and walked into one of the many empty rooms. Akaza put you down, but then, he backed you up against the wall. You felt your back press flat with your hands on the wall as well, giving how close he was to you. "Lord Akaza, please don't read too much into it. Douma was just being an idiot. " You tried to explain, but Akaza wasn't having any of it.

Akaza raised his brow. "So you're defending him?" His voice rasped as he tilted his head to the side. "No.." Your tone softened and looked at Akaza, worried since that wasn't your intentions. "I don't think I've made myself clear enough if my actions haven't shown it already." Akaza said and brought his hand to your collar bone and rested it there for a moment.

"Demon's I hate don't get the right to talk to who belongs to me." Akaza's face comes closer to yours with his lips now inches away from yours. His hand moves from your collar bone, up to wrap around your throat. "And you entertain a demon like him. Even saying his name from these lips. His fucking, name" Akaza's jaw clenched, and his hand tightens kts grip on your throat.

"Aka..za" his name hitched in your throat. His grip was deadly. You could still breathe. However, Akaza's grip was firm. He wouldn't dare kill his precious demon. It was just a "light" punishment. However, he needed you to learn your lesson and to show your loyalty to him and him alone. "Say my name properly. Or is my strength too much for you to speak?" Akaza smirked.

"L-lord Akaza. Lord Akaza~" you say his mamw twice. The second time you say it, you let out a heavy gasp as akaza lossend his grip on your throat. "You belong to me. Understood?" Akaza asked, keeping that eye contact and tightening his hand around your throat if you dared to look away. You nod quickly, your eyes almost teary from the slight lack of oxygen, and you watch Akaza's lips curl into another smirk.

"Good girl." He chuckled and gave you a kiss.

Nakime

Your girlfriend, Nakime, had summoned you to the infinitely castle. It's her job to always summon the 12 kizuki at the request of Muzan. Naturally, you felt terrified but remained to have a calm once you were summoned. However, Muzan was nowhere to he seen. Just Nakime, sitting there, a level above, and you looked up at her in confusion.

"Pardon for speaking out of turn, but where is lord Muzan," you asked, assuming it was him who wanted to speak with you, but it turns out that wasn't the case. "It was I who summoned you." Nakime spoke, her tone a bit quiet yet blunt. You chuckled and cut the formal introduction since Muzan isn't here, and you can speak freely since it's just you and your girlfriend.

"You do know it's probably a bad idea to summon me since you're taking me away from my work. Search of the blue spider lily and all." You grinned at Nakime and palced your hand on your hip. "I was keeping an eye on you. One of upper 4's clones has gotten closer to you. Haven't he? " Nakima said. You detected slight irritation in her voice, mentioning one of Hantengu's clones, but instead of asking a question for a question, you always knew it was better to answer her first.

"Ah, Urogi, yes. I wouldn't say we are close. However, he's a fun demon to work with. He likes to have a bit of joy and humor on our search," you answered. It isn't abnormal for Nakime to use her blood demon art this way. Especially since she's on the lookout to find the ubuyashiki family in the demon slayer core. Still, you couldn't hide your smile knowing Nakime was most likely thinking about you and wanted to check in on you.

"I forbid you to speak to him. Your task is to look for the spider lily. Not entertain each other with humorous jokes and touching," Nakime said. Her words made your heart spot for a moment and knew exactly what she was talking about. Urogi has always been proud of his sharp talons and would often tease you with them, but on this mission, he wanted to take it up a notch and poked your cheek.

To you, it was a wholesome moment. Urogi was just teasing, nothing different he dosnt do to the others, but Nakima had to see that, and she was furious. Urogi only touched you once in a playful manner, and it was enough for her to use her blood demon art to summon her back to you in that very moment. "He was getting too close to you for my liking and being bold enough to do that. Especially bringing those filthy claws of his to touch my woman's pretty face."

During this entire time, her facial expression remained unchanged until now. You could see her lips form into a frown and even watched as her teeth clenched together in a snarl. She was jealous. "Urogi was just being playful. I wouldn't read too deep into it, love. Sekido is probably scoling Urogi right now for wasting time to focus on finding the blue spider lily." You reassure Nakima, but she wouldn't let it go.

"Come here." Nakime took her biwa off her lap and rested it gently beside her on the floor and motioned her finger for you to come sit in front of her. You did as Nakime asked and sat down in front of her. You wanted to explain further to find the right words to reassure Nakime, but before you could, her hand grabbed your face

You gasped. Your breathing became unsteady as you felt her firm grip, her four fingers on one cheek while the other had her thumb, or rather her nail, poking onto your skin. The same spot Urogi poked at. "I will not allow a man's to touch to linger on what belongs to me." Nakime's voice turned cold. "You belong to me." She said as her thumb nail pressed harder, breaking your skin until blood slowly pours out.

Your jaw opens, and you inhale a sharp breath with your eyes barely open as you feel the sting. You're a demon, so of course it'll heal, and Nakime didn't pierce too deep. It was her way of wanting to hear her words come out of your mouth. You kept your eyes on her and eventually spoke up. "I belong to you~" Your voice hitched as you felt nails nail pull away from your skin.

Nakime leaned in closer to lick the blood from your cheek and watched as your cut healed already. She kissed your cheek and then came closer to your ear and whispered, "That's right. You belong to me, beautiful." Nakime said. Her hand lets go of your face and then trails her sharp nails down your neck.

You shivered until her fingers reached your kimono, near your tits and Nakime smirked. "I should remind you of how a woman's touch feels. So you'll never let another man touch you again," Nakime said. You bit your lip softly, feeling the heat rise higher in your body and your thighs squeezing together more. "I want that," you said, and Nakime's smirk only grew.

"Open your thighs for me and lay back. I'll show you how good these fingers work other than playing a biwa"

Kokushibo

His brother has been dead for centuries. Yet his name still echos throughout history but never would kokushibo think that his brothers name, yoriichi, would leave your lips.

Although you're a demon now and have been for a while now, you could still recount memories you had during your times as a human, especially in the demon slayer core. It was basically a law for any of the 12 kizuki to never speak of Yoriichis' name, yet you just had to talk about him since gyokko was curious to know how humans thought of him.

"Yoriichi has sun breathing. That's the best way to describe why he's well known even after his death. He could kill any demon in seconds. It's quite impressive," you admit to gyokko, and he nods his head, humming in response. Kokushibo had already been looking for you, but he never interrupted any of your conversations when you had them. However, hearing Yoriichis' name from you alone set him off to act out.

He came from around the coner and stood behind you. "Do I think yoriichi could beat Kokushibo? Well maybe-" you said but then saw both of gyokko's mouths open as he looked behind you. Your brow raised in question, and you turned around to see what shook him so much, but now you realized. "Kokushibou hi" you smiled nervously at him.

"It was good talking to you, bye!!!" Gyokko hides inside his pot, probably in another one by now, so it was just kokushibo and you. "Listen, I was just- oh!" Kokushibou picked you up, and then you heard Nakime's biwa sound, transporting you back to his home. You knew you fucked up. You and gyokko tried to talk in secret, but now kokushibo was going to punish you, a demon for speaking about yoriichi but in his own way.

Kokushibo put you down, turning your body away from him to face the wall with your body pushed up against it. You grunted from the sudden pressure but gasped once your hair was pulled back to face kokushibo. The view was upside down, but you could see just how angry he was. "You know to refrain from using that name. Have you lost your mind?" Kokushibou said, his deep voice almost turning into a growl.

His hand had a fist full of your hair, and not only that, his lower half was just inches away from pressing up against you. "I know- I was just telling memories from my human life I didn't think it was a big deal-" "and you actually believe a person like him could defeat me. Do you really think that? Dose his name interest you so much that you've forgotten just who's wife you belong to?" Kokushibou said.

You had a confused look on your face. Is he seriously jealous at the mention of his brother's name from his lover? You knew kokushibo was jealous, but you didn't expect him to be this possessive. "I'm sorry~" This is all you could mutter out. "Do not. Ever say that name. Again." Kokushibou crouches down to your ear, speaking slow for his words to be understood.

You mewl softly, biting your lip as you nod quickly, understand his words. "My name should be the only name said from those lips." Kokushibou now brought his other hand up to your chin and holding it while his other hand is still gripping your hair. Your back arches just a bit more once you felt Kokushibou press himself up against your ass.

He let out a heavy breath with a deep moan mixed in. "Having your jaw broken for speaking his name is the normal punishment from lord Muzan, since you're a demon and it'd grow back." Kokushibou grinds himself against, letting go of your hair and placing his hand on your tit.

"However, I have my own punishment. Just for you." Kokushibo's breaths become heavy, feeling himself get into heat, and he whispered in your ear.

"A punishment where you'll never remember to say his name and only mine. You belong to me, my pretty demon~"

Douma

His "church" wasn't a church at all. You made the dumbest mistake to have even joined this religious cult. Your "savor", the one who saved you that day from eating eaten like an animal from a group of demons and showing you such kindness was just a cover-up for his true identity, which was a man-eating demon and not just any demon, the 2nd highest rank in 12 strong demons led by an even more powerful demon. The realization sunk in, and you made an ever worse choice than the first one.

You wanted to escape. You wanted out. You thought you planned your escape for a week, asking around what Douma's schedule was like so you knew the perfect days on when to leave, but that back fired on you. When you noticed nobody outside the temple, keeping guard and, of course, no sight of douma, you made a run for it.

You felt relieved. No one was there to stop you until a dark figure appeared from the shadows and snatched you up like you weighed nothing. "I caught you! You sure ran fast. Are you sure you weren't a demon slayer before you came to my temple?" Douma said, smiling from ear to ear.

You tried to catch your breath from running up, but your breath quickly turned into a panic. Douma frowned for a moment, "Oh you poor thing. Don't be scared. We'll get you back to the temple so you can rest for the night," Douma said. With such fake empathy in his tone, it almost sounded sarcastic.

Douma continues to hold your body off the ground in a bear like hug. His muscles flexed to hold you firmly so you couldn't escape. However, looking at Douma more closely, you noticed changes about him. His teeth looked more like fangs. His body against yours felt so cold, almost like he was dead and worst of all. He had "upper 2" written in his eyes. Was this a demon's technique? How was he able to hide these features on him so well around his cult members.

"I don't want to go back!" Your voice trembled. You tried to speak soft, but the panic got to you. Douma only just smiled, speaking in his cheerful voice. "If you're worried about being eaten alive, don't worry, you aren't my type of woman to eat, but you are my type of woman to be around. So I will be keeping you since you asked for my help to save you from those demons that day, so it only makes sense for us to stay together." Douma chuckled.

"What??" You sighed, looking at Douma with worry, fear, and confusion. "I don't belong to you, so let me go!" You hit Douma, but you knew your strengths was no where near compared to his. Douma places his hand on the back of your head, making your rest your chin on his shoulder while he embraces you more and nuzzling his face to your neck, taking in your scent.

"You still don't get it y/n? You're mine. I'm going to keep you until your time as a human is up." Douma said, throwing you over his shoulder and began to walk back to the temple.

"You belong to me and me alone~"

Muzan

2 years had passed since you were kidnapping, and you were finally back and safe with your family. Although your kidnapper, known as the most powerful demon, kidnapped you was bad, he could've been a lot worse. So you like to think of it that way. He could dispose of you at any moment, even when you couldn't help him find the blue spider lily, but he didn't.

You're family for owning a flower company, educated on flowers even so that's the main reason why Muzan took you but he let you go when you were of no use to him anymore. The bond you had with Muzan wasn't always about his work. There was soft intimate moments between you two but you knew not to get your hopes up since in the end, your knowledge wasn't all that useful and he let you leave, putting his work before you.

Your life continued to move forward, and eventually, you had an arranged marriage. A soon to be husband for you. He wasn't bad. He did promise to treat you right, give you his money and etc but deep down, you knew you couldn't love this man but went along with it for the benefits and your familes sake.

The wedding took place during the night. Your in-laws thought it would be a great idea to see how lovely your wedding dress would look in the moonlight. You asked to be alone in the fitting room, and you turned off the lights. Despite being human, you've gown accustomed to the dark and toy opened the window, feeling the night's breeze. Your hands slide down your sides to your hips, and you smile at yourself in the mirror, seeing just how gorgeous you look.

"You look stunning, my dear. They were right. The way the moonlight shines on that beautiful dress is just Devine," a deep familiar voice said. You gasped and turned your head to the window and saw Muzan, sitting in the edge and watching his glowing red eyes trace every inch of your body and even smirking at how the dress hugs your hips and holds up your tits perfect.

"Why are you... h-how did you find me?" You stepped back. Muzan came into your fitting room further and made his way towards you. Your body froze, but your eyes softened once you felt his hand on your cheek. His hand was so cold. "Do you think I'd let just anyone actually go?" Muzan bluntly said. That line alone confirmed your thoughts from a year ago. You weren't actually free, and like you predicted, Muzan would come back to you. However, it wouldn't be for the reason you think.

"I don't have any more knowledge on the spider lily. Even after you let me go, I couldn't find it." You explained to Muzan, but he only grinned. "I have upper ranks to do the job much better and faster than you," He said. His words cut a bit deep since you used as much energy as you could've helped him before. "But you can be useful to me in... other ways," Muzan said as his eyes gestured to your body and then looked back at your face.

It's like the old feelings came rushing back. In your own sick way, you missed this man. Muzan is the worst, curel and dangerous man-eating demon you could've ever met. Yet you knew leaving with him was a choice you had to make now. Your mind snaps out of it once you head a knock at the door. You and Muzan look at the door and hear a woman's voice on the other side.

"Um, y/n? Are you almost done?" One of your maid of honors asked through the door. "Yes, im-" you paused. Your eyes look down to see Muzan's hand slide on your hip and even slide his hand down lower, just like how he used to, but you stopped him. "I'll be right out. Just give me a minute," you say in a worry, and then look at Muzan, his lips inches away from yours, and you spoke quietly.

"You can come by tomorrow night, and we'll talk about this. You came at such an odd time. " You rolled your eyes halfway, trying not to let all these emotions cloud you. You turned around, but the second you did, Muzan had grabbed the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pulled you back to face him. "Mm.." Muzan brought you into a heated kiss, making you stumble back and sit in the mini table in your changing room.

"Y/n!?" Your maid of honor placed her ear on the door after hearing a thund sound. "If you think for a moment I'd let you have some random mam in bed with you, then you're more stupid than I thought," Muzan said as his jaw tensed. You pant as you feel his fingers press into your neck and you placed your hands on his chest for some kind of support.

"You belong to me, and I'm taking you back. The connection we share won't ever disappear, so don't think for a second it will," Muzan said, pulling you into another kiss. This time, you kissed him back. His words may not have been the sweetest, but you understood them. He wanted you, and you wanted him. He pulled away once he heard hard banging on the door.

"Let's go," you said, lifting up your dress, not hesitating for a moment about leaving. Muzan had picked you up, and you heard a biwa sound, transporting you to Muzan's room in an instant. Muzan, put you down. His hands made their way to your body, with one hand on your ass and the other playing with the zipper on your wedding dress.

He smirked at you, letting out a dark chuckle. "Now. Won't you let me give you that wedding night you deserve to have"

#demon slayer smut #kny smut #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #muzan x reader #muzan smut #akaza x reader #akaza smut #douma x reader #douma smut #kokushibo smut #kokushibo x reader #nakime smut #nakime x reader

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kquil · 2 months

Text

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.6

06 : SELFISH DESIRES

SUM : it's your chance to make amends and push aside your selfish desires - your heart will ache but they're worth it

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james potter ; piercer remus lupin ; angst ; idiots in love ; unexpected turn of events ; sirius is the main character here ; jk jk ; it's you~ hehe~ ; you'll see what i mean ; wolfstar have a heated argument ; i almost cried writing it ; i hate seeing them like that ; poor james ; james needs a hug ; regulus makes an appearance! ; dramatic sirius black ; regulus is a good brother ; sirius being an instigator ; we love him for it though ; you can't just leave them again! ; no fluff here kiddos ; but kiddos stay away! ; just cover your innocent eyes!

LENGTH : 3.7k

← PREV. : 05 | DRUNK AND CIGARETTE SMOKE

“You’re disgusting,” Sirius manages an indifferent glance over at his younger brother before resuming his miserable, unmoving position on the sofa — Regulus’ sofa. The obvious detachment Sirius has to the situation only stirs his younger brother’s bubbling anger, “It’s almost been a full month! And you’re letting yourself rot away on my sofa; get a hold of yourself!” No response. Regulus shakes his head with a drawn out sigh, “you usually don’t stay around this long whenever there’s an argument… I wonder what’s happened this time…”

Deeming his older brother completely hopeless, Regulus returns to his sparse but sleek kitchen just as the kettle whistles its readiness to be poured for tea.

Sirius breaths an audible sigh and grimaces at the stench of his breath. The mix of excessive alcohol, countless cigarettes and mountains of junk food didn’t make for a good concoction on his tongue, definitely not for fresh breath. When was the last time he had brushed his teeth? He brings a hand up to push straggling strands of hair away from his view but grumbles when the curls had knotted up too much for him to comb his hair back uninterrupted. Stone grey eyes look down at his figure, stagnant and pale, weighed heavy from low spirits.

What followed the night you left their flat was the worst fight they have ever had. It was mainly between him and Remus while James remained in the background, too downhearted to contribute anything to the verbal warfare happening before him. He was spoiled with love since birth. As an only child with loving parents, who never fought in front of him, whenever Sirius and Remus argued, James was left paralysed with despair. It was always shocking to him how nasty those fights became; his parents never fought like that. Sirius could see it in his sweet hazel eyes that James wanted desperately to have peace but didn’t know how to steer things in that direction. He had tried before, many times, to defuse the situation but both Sirius and Remus were too stubborn and hot-headed from the argument as well as their suddenly stark differences in opinion to back down.

As unfortunate as it is to think about, these fights happened often, recurring in the same exact way – originating from opposing opinions, primarily between him and Remus. They would try to keep it together but it would just keep piling up until someone snaps and then there’s no dispelling their disputes. James either takes a side or none at all (usually the later) and Sirius storms out of the flat to stay with Regulus.

He should feel guilty for being such a burden to his younger brother. He should have more pride in himself than to allow Regulus to ever see him in such a depressed and unpleasant state. Lack of hygiene, self care and self maintenance manifests into something so repulsive and unsightly, Sirius would usually be back and making amends within a week or two – encouraged by his own lack of cleanliness and his commitment to run from the disease of laziness.

But it’s been more than that now. Nearly a month, Regulus says. Time just passes by, slow and tolerant, so unlike him, and yet, Sirius still managed to lose complete track of it. This is the longest they’ve ever had a dispute without reconciling.

His own stubbornness is definitely a factor. He had been right all along. If only they, mostly Remus, had listened to him. James was fully on board but Remus was stubbornly defiant and managed to convince the former otherwise.

“Do you think she’s the type of person who would embrace such an unconventional relationship with open arms?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Moony,” Sirius grits his teeth, his inner thoughts and reasoning ached to be heard and let out coherently. In his mind, it all made sense to do things the way he suggests, so why couldn’t his boyfriend understand him?! It doesn’t even seem like he’s trying to listen to him at this point! “She won’t understand if we don’t say anything to her! We have to be forward and bold! Do it now before something happens!”

“Nothing. Is. Going. To. Happen!”

“How can you be so sure? We need to be honest with her, it’s not fair to her and it’s, frankly, deceitful to keep her in the dark about all this!”

“We can’t be too sure that she’ll accept us. If that happens then we’ll never see her again– I don’t want that, do you?!”

“We won’t know unless we say something, do something, anything!”

“Please just trust me, Siri,” Remus begs, his loud voice lowering to a soft plea, his beautiful brown eyes no longer fierce or piercing but kind and warm again, with a hint of fear. Sirius can sympathise with that creeping terror, an anxiety that wants to swallow you whole and keep you in a dark abyss for eternity, “I don’t want to frighten her…”

The first time, Sirius gave in, weak for his love and weak for the reasoning behind his proposal on the matter concerning you. The dark-haired tattooist couldn’t fault his lover for that but, in hindsight, he should have argued his side more, maybe then, you wouldn’t have disappeared like that…

“Hey, your phone won’t stop pinging,” Regulus alerts, appearing out of thin air and surprising Sirius enough to sit up and alert with wide eyes, “will you finally read their messages to you?” with some reluctance, Sirius reaches for his phone and proceeds to look through his messages while Regulus takes a seat opposite him, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

The younger Black brother was just about to begin reading another one of his classic novel favourites when a rush of air flew by him, ruffling the small strands of hair and whipping about the billowing steam from his mug of tea. Moments later, the sound of his shower turning on full blast echos through his flat and a smile graces his lips.

“It’s about time…”

Lingering guilt had plagued you all night long and you barely managed to get a wink of sleep. It, however, meant that you were able to better prepare lunch for the boys the following day. While cooking, you abandon all negative feelings to focus on only the good, not wanting any harmful emotions to diffuse into the food and saturate it with bad tastes. Your eyebags weren’t a pretty sight but it was easily fixable with a touch of makeup.

You tried to look your best for the day. Fortunately, the early summer sun inspired your motivations further. Yes, you’ve made the terrible mistake of selfishly pushing them away to nurse your own battered soul and unrequited feelings, but this was your time to make amends, to make things right… to see Sirius again.

You never felt right after you accused him of cheating on Remus and James with each other, only to find out that he was far more loving and loyal than that. You were embarrassed and ashamed to have ever thought so negatively about him, jumping to conclusions like an immature, thoughtless child. It was wonderful seeing James and Remus again, your heart was practically soaring in your chest as it disregarded all lingering feelings of misery and dejection. But now, your chest felt incredibly tight as your heart ached to catch a simple glimpse of Sirius.

You carefully pack away the lovingly prepared food and desserts into your largest, most durable shopping bag before getting dressed. It was only natural that you managed to make more than you usually made for the boys, seeing as you wanted to spoil them rotten after being so childish the last few weeks. Since the weather was pleasant, you opted for a cute mini dress with a light, flowy material that was comfortable and soft. Over top, you wore a cropped cardigan that had long sleeves, enough to reach past your fingertips. For jewellery, you wore a simple necklace and slipped into a strappy pair of mid-heeled platforms that weren’t too tall. Casual but cute.

Approaching the studio doors, your grip on the strap of your bag tightens and your breath hitches. They hadn’t taken the notice down and the bold, red letters of their ‘CLOSED’ sign glared at you angrily.

Were they inside? Should you knock? Neither Remus or James actually agreed to your sudden choice to meet for lunch the night before. Did this mean that they didn’t want you to be in their lives anymore?... But… but you wanted to make things right! You wanted to apologise! You want to be friends with them again! You’ll tell them right away – tell them how you would do anything just to remain by their side, even if it’s just as a friend, you’ll be happy for them! You won’t be selfish anymore, you won’t covet anything more than friendship with them, that’s all you want! Not that they’ve ever heard of your true desires—

“Well?” A familiar voice speaks up behind you, putting an abrupt end to your panicked inner monologue, “Aren’t you going to knock?”

Swiftly spinning in place, you smile brightly at the biker and tattooist standing before you, dressed in all black, with heavy, lace-up boots and his signature leather jacket, “Sirius!”

He doesn’t breathe a word to you, eyeing your hefty bag before briefly meeting your eyes and making his way over. His long strides made it so that he reached you in no time but he didn’t stop. With a light gasp, he had backed you up into the left of their studio’s double-door front entrance. You held your breath and kept your eyes shut tight, not knowing what to do as your heart pounded deafeningly against your eardrums.

A moment passes and you feel his hand brush against yours before your portly bag of packed food is taken from you. A wave of relief washed over your aching shoulder as the weight disappeared but such a diminutive alleviation of discomfort couldn’t swamp the trepidation in your heart. Sirius was different.

“Siri–”

“Let’s head inside,” he had opened the right hand door and easily slipped through with your bag. Alone and in the quiet, you felt like crying. You wanted to cry, desperately but you knew that it would offer little to no reassurance. So, with a heavy heart, you followed Sirius inside and closed the studio door behind you.

The air was stale but, in it, lingered a familiar scent that you had come to love, it was a clean, almost clinical smell from the regular use of disinfectant and bleach. You love this parlour so much, it was filled with so many good memories, ones of soft affection through tender words and gentle caresses. Despite the earlier interaction, you couldn’t help but smile just from the wave of romantic sentiment washing over you.

“You’re here,” Remus greets with a tired smile as James sits on the opposite end of the sofa with a shy grin directed towards you, his hazel eyes looking elsewhere.

“Sorry if I’m late,” you managed a weak smile, “I didn’t know if the door was open or not. Thankfully, Sirius was there to help me in,” Sirius didn’t sit down despite the many available seating spaces and chose to lean his back against a far wall, instead. James couldn’t meet your eyes and Remus was sneakily massaging his temple as he leaned his face against his large hand, “let’s eat, shall we? I hope you guys are hungry,”

It was never this awkward. Or quiet. Especially when sharing your homemade lunch together. James would usually be giving you endless praise through large, mid-chewed mouthfuls while Sirius laughed at the ridiculous sounds and faces he’d pull trying to speak coherently through the mouthful of food, and Remus would shake his head, his amusement by the display evident in the warm glimmer of his eyes. However, James doesn’t have as big of an appetite today and Sirius stands alone with his tupperware, barely touching his food. Remus is the only one eating a substantial amount besides you. Although, you’ve gradually slowed your own chewing.

What have you done?...

What happened to all of you?

Your shame brought your gaze down, making your head weigh heavier than usual as you give up on communicating anything with the boys. This wasn’t how it was meant to go…what should you do now? The pain in your heart was unbearable.

Shoulders slumped and confidence dried up, you struggled to think of what to do. You should have prepared a speech or something. It was naive of you to think that simply coming over with a homemade lunch would fix anything. Things are never going to be the same, no matter how much you hope and pray for them to be.

You’re hopeless… completely and utterly hopeless…

This was your worst fear come to life. You had feared rejection but seeing them unloving towards each other, barely communicating and broken apart, your stomach collapsed in on itself as your heart fell to a million pieces. You didn’t utter a single word of loving them romantically aloud and yet, you still managed to get in between their relationship. This was a sentiment of how selfish of a person you are.

How could you do this to them?! They were your friends, who saved you from the worst night of your life, and you repay them like this?! Shameful. Disgusting. You don’t think you could ever look at yourself in the mirror again.

The skirt of your mini dress blurs on your lap and you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing out loud. The tears, however, you couldn’t stop them. Hopefully, they’re all too distracted to see you silently weeping and you can gather yourself before turning tail and running out of there.

Today is a complete disaster—

“Don’t cry, angel, please!” James jumps up and rushes to your side, kneeling down at your feet as he takes your hands in his and tries to meet your gaze through the puddle of tears in your eyes. His words immediately catch Remus and Sirius’ attention and they both begin to make their way over, evident worry swimming in their eyes but you refuse to acknowledge any of that as your mind drowns in all manner of negative thought.

You shake your head, hearing the flurry of footfalls around you and wishing them away silently, “I shouldn’t have come here today…” you whisper.

“What was that?” James patiently asks, voice soft and sweet and kind, it makes you want to fall into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you speak clearer and stand abruptly, “enjoy the lunch,” the haste and sorrow in your shaking voice makes their heart drop and they’re brought back to that fateful night once more. You don’t meet their eyes as you turn and push past them to leave, almost running through the hallway of their studio just to reach the door and make a quick escape.

“THIS!” Sirius’ roaring voice suddenly cuts through the studio like a knife, making you stop in your tracks and turn around slowly. The door to the lounge room was still open, before it Sirius and Remus stood in an aggressive confrontation, both taking on a defensive stance as they faced each other, all while James remained in the background, clutching at his head as he slumped forward on the sofa, “THIS IS WHAT I MEANT! IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO ME–”

“I DIDN’T SAY WHAT I SAID WITHOUT REASON SIRIUS! YOU KNOW MY EXACT THOUGHTS ABOUT ALL THIS!” Remus shouts back, the veins in his neck bulging out from his fierce anger, the blood rushing in his cheeks making him look just about ready to violently explode.

“BUT–”

“—YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR THAT!” Remus continues, not allowing Sirius to speak.

“WELL YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR MY REASONING EITHER!”

You’re horrified at the scene. Sirius and Remus look ready to tear each other apart as James looks on hopelessly, not knowing what to do or how to diffuse the situation, completely torn between supporting one or the other. Without thinking, you rush back and skid to a stop between the two hot-blooded men. Their fuming rage was like a turbulent inferno whose flames licked viciously at your skin, ready to burn you and spread the hostility.

“The both of you need to calm down!” you shout, pushing them away from each other and creating a safe distance between. Your tears had already run dry, replaced by the trembling terror shaking your limbs.

“Don’t worry about us Dove,” Remus manages to voice through gritted teeth, his glowering eyes never leaving Sirius’, “you can leave and we’ll sort this out,”

“Sort this out like usual huh?—”

“—Don’t taunt me, Sirius,”

“That won’t solve anything, you idiot!” Sirius flings his arms up and James just barely manages to pull you away from being accidentally hit. Neither of the two seem to notice and James expresses his apology in lovingly nuzzling your temple, his lips puckering to kiss your skin but refraining and stepping away abruptly. You try not to feel the heartache his actions elicit in you.

“SHUT UP!” you’ve never heard Remus sound so angry and venomous before, it makes your heart stutter in fear and worry. You can’t leave now; this disagreement can’t end well without some form of intervention and James isn’t fairing too well with that – he needs someone there for him too, just to feel, somewhat, grounded through all of this, “She doesn’t have to hear all of this!”

“We wouldn’t have to be saying ‘all of this’ if you had. Just. LISTENED. TO. ME!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?!” Sirius growls lowly, his countenance scrunching up into a foul expression —an antithesis to his elegant features, “I’ll show you!” it was then that Sirius turns to face you and approaches with purpose in his long strides, unstopping like he did earlier when outside the studio.

“SIRIUS—!”

Sirius backs you up into the wall behind you, “—Everything Could Have Been As Easy As Doing This!” you didn’t know what to prepare yourself for but Sirius firmly gripping your chin and pulling you into a deep kiss was not one of them. In your shock, you let out a surprised but muffled moan, slowly falling into the blissful embrace and reciprocating eagerly.

Did you faint earlier? Was this all a dream?...

…Dream or not, you like this very much!

James and Remus watch at the bold display, disbelief shining clear in their eyes as Sirius has his way with you. But you don’t see them, you don’t see anyone or anything, all you know is that Sirius kisses like an experienced lover from fantasy and he wasn’t shy about loving you up. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you let Sirius guide them over your head to cuff your wrists together with his large hand, his other snaking around your waist to pull you closer and deepen the kiss.

He tastes like spearmint gum and smokey cigarette smoke, his lips tinted in cherry lip balm for sweetness. What an addictive taste. You can’t get enough.

But air is a necessity and just as you were beginning to run out of breath, Sirius pulls away, panting heavily. He doesn’t wait for a single second to pass before diving his head into your neck, where he peppers feathery but fervid kisses along your sensitive skin and smiles to himself when you slip out a moan. You sound beautiful. He needs to hear more. Sirius doesn’t stop, he sucks and licks and kisses and nuzzles along your neck like the tease he is, drawing out every quivering whimper and pretty moan you were desperately trying to contain.

You keep your eyes tightly shut, too embarrassed to meet the eyes of Remus or James. Their gaze on you left behind a searing, phantom mark that developed into a displeasing itch. An itch that could only be satisfied if they kissed you too.

…So selfish. God! When will you stop?!

Ashamed of your gradually increasing volume, you seal your mouth shut in a stubborn attempt to suppress your pleasure. How did his lips and tongue feel so good on your skin? His touch made your knees weak and your legs shake, without his support, you don’t think you would stay standing for long.

Just as you were able to swallow every embarrassing sound that tried to escape, James was beside you, his warm breath on your cheek as he silently urged Sirius to give way, “you need help staying quiet, angel?” he whispers and doesn’t wait for an answer, briefly meeting your eyes before he’s closing them to kiss you sweetly. It started off sweet. Sweet and loving like James before suddenly becoming very dominating and overwhelming. You were being devoured and the thought was undeniably arousing. They were both on you, Sirius kissing away at your neck as James savoured the taste of your lips before bullying his way into your awaiting mouth. He swallowed your moans for you as Sirius defiantly persisted, urging you with seductive lips to make more.

Overwhelmed but so content.

You were drowning in bliss and you never wanted to break away from it.

“DIDN’T I SAY!” Remus shouts, stopping all activity and leaving you strung up high as the boys slowly pull away, not too far but enough for all of you to meet Remus’ unreadable stare. The boys look over their shoulder to observe their commanding lover, their large frames tense before moving their eyes down and slowly smirking, the tension evaporating off their figures as you’re left to rebuild another tower of anxiety from your lower stomach, “Didn’t. I. Say. We. Were. Going. To. Savour. Her?”

What?

Your shocked, wide-eyed stare meets Remus’ cool and, almost, unfeeling gaze. Once again, your knees buckled under you and you were caught by Sirius and James. Held in place by their hot, firm hands and the press of their toned physiques.

What did he just say?

Unable to keep his stare, your eyes slowly fall down the tall brunette’s figure. Capturing his beautiful, full lips; taking in the delicious column on his neck; observing the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest; drifting down to gulp at his veiny arms and hands before landing on...

Oh~

A/N : no fluff, but something better right? a little sneak peak on how i write spicy things but it's readable hehe~

NEXT. | 07 : APOLOGISE AND COMFORT →

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @mangodamochiii @queerqueenlynn @l3xiluve @brain-has-left @bunbunbl0gs @kneelforloki @citrusiove @virtualbuni @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @that1nerd-20 @wolfstar4everbitches @skepvids @dearmy-diary @littledollfacebaby @mylifeisnothing @em16cor @krazyk99 @imdoingbetternow @realalpacorn @remussbitch @swiftieeras1989 @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @canthavetoomuchchaos @rckstrbee @b-i-h-i @ennycutie @kneelforloki @theteaobsessedbug @padfoot1313 @d1gital-data @venezsuwayla @melllinaa

#poly marauders x reader #marauders x reader #poly marauders x you #poly marauders #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #remus x reader #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #the marauders #marauders #wolfstar #heroes in tattoos series #HIT : series

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finniestoncrane · 5 days

Text

Big Iron

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 650 lmao no one is allowed to yell at me for the pun in the title (get it... cos blood tastes like iron??? PHEW) ANYWAY cooper howard eats people and enjoys the taste of blood so uh... eating someone out when they're on their period? winner winner delicious fuckin dinner for him, plus a healthy dose of romantic cannibalism🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of cannibalism, period sex, oral sex, drinking/tasting blood, blood play

Your fingers scratched at the thin mattress below you, catching on a spring that burst through the frayed fabric. Something to claw on to, to cling to, as your orgasm rolled over you, pulling back like the waves before a tsunami.

Sensing the imminent climax, Cooper cruelly pulled his head back from you, catching your eye as you looked down to see why he had stopped. With a wink, he dropped his tongue out past his chapped lips and ran it around his mouth. Wagging the long, pink muscle out, you could see the blood collected on it, smears of it still on his face.

"Why... why'd you stop?"

Panting. Pathetic. You were desperate for him to continue, to place his face flat against you, clit hooded by the cavity where his nose had been, tongue hungrily lapping at you. Even as you asked him, you could hear the whine in your voice. And his answer only made you tense up further.

"Because, darlin'... I like to savour my meals."

Why you had expected anything less was a mystery. Every month, right on schedule, your period arrived and Cooper went hysterical. Frenzied, like an animal in heat, as though he could smell the changes in your body. Blood lust driving him. He would claw at you any minute you were alone, tearing your clothes off to taste you, like he did now.

His fingers teased along your red, swollen lips, venturing into your cunt as you clenched around him, grateful for more of his touch. But it was over in a moment, as he withdrew his digits and held them out in front of him, admiring the way your blood, thick, dark and red, dripped slowly down them.

Placing them in his mouth, he sucked your juices off with a soft moan, eyelids closed to offer some sensory deprivation. All he wanted to experience was your taste. The metallic tang that coated his tastebuds, the smell of violence that filled the air.

Lowering his body, his knees scraping along the ground as he slid backwards through the dust on the ground, he rested his cheek against your leg before he began placing kisses on it. They trailed from the front, around to your inner thigh. Delicate, gentle, loving almost, before they turned to sharp bites. His yellowed teeth sinking into you with grunts and groans, either from arousal or from the sheer amount of concentration it took him to remember not to hurt you. Not too much anyway.

Between each nibble, each puncture of the top layer of skin with his surprisingly sharp teeth, he mumbled to you, low, rasping words that made you shudder, heating your cheeks and flushing your body.

“Why… I could just devour you whole… Make you a meal I’d never forget…”

Your lips curled into a smile at the thought. Cooper’s possessive nature only ever served to make you lust after him more. It consumed you, and you’d be content for him to consume you.

“Eat of your flesh… drink of your blood, that old chestnut…”

There was a soft scuffing sound which you identified as Cooper’s hips, grinding into the ground, desperate for the friction against his stiff cock as his tongue flitted back up your lips and pressed into your aching cunt one more. And still, he took breaks to speak to you between breathy, lustful moans.

“You taste… you taste as sweet as I remember honey being… you got the bite of a sour cherry… tender like the steaks they offered me at contract meetings… juicy… dripping… fresh kill…”

Your hand fell to the back of his head, keeping him buried between your legs, not quite strong enough to prevent him from stopping for just a few more words.

“I’m gonna eat you alive, darlin’…”

#fallout #fallout amazon #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

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cosmal · 1 year

Note

Poly!Marauders x touch-starved fem!reader who’s too embarrassed to ask for attention..

cuddle

summary you really want a hug from your boys

content poly!marauders x fem!reader

note i don’t like this sorry

You get home from work later than you'd anticipated. You're exhausted, every step you take feels heavy, slow. You smell like the tube and your limbs are screaming for a hot shower.

But when you see your boys, you bubble with adoration.

You've all only just moved in together, the routine is fresh and exciting. You're not used to coming home to being welcomed by a parade of love and something on the stove.

You hang your coat and take off your shoes. The feet of your tights are a little damp. Sirius meets you in the hall.

"You're home," he says with a smack of a kiss to your cheek. You beam. "Is it raining out there? Sweetheart, I would've come and picked you up."

"It's okay," you smile. You think he's just finished work too, he's probably just as tired. "I read on the train." Sirius doesn't look pleased.

James hugs you as soon as he sees you. He's all flushed like he's just gotten back from the gym. Grey sweats and a black hoodie. You melt under his affection. "Cold out there, huh?"

"Yeah," you say quietly. You struggle to not show how affected you feel under their loving. You tuck a damp curl away from his face instead. Ignoring how warm your face feels. "You feeling tired?"

"A little."

"My poor baby." You kiss his shoulder and follow the sound of your name from the kitchen. James groans.

You're welcomed by Remus's long arms and a kiss to the top of your head when you find him. He keeps an eye on his sauteed vegetables while he squishes you. The heat from the stove hugs your face while you feel just as shy in his hold as you did the others. You wonder if you'll ever get used to it.

Eventually, Remus gets busy with dinner, boiling pasta and adding sauce to the veg. Sirius sets himself up behind his computer, and James gets in the shower. You were hoping, selfishly, for an invitation from him but felt stupid for thinking so. He’s tired. Sirius would probably whinge. Understandably.

You sit on your bed, work skirt and top discarded. A pair of tights and the vest makes you look a little funny but you don’t have it in you to care. You know the boys wouldn't mind either.

You wonder what they’d say if you asked them to cuddle. You know, hopefully, that their answer would most likely be yes. You just don’t like how you’d sound. Because, you really hate yourself for it, you’ve never actually had to ask them. They hug and kiss you all the time like they have a sixth sense for when you need it.

You feel tired, bored. You know they'd be the perfect fix. You just don't know how to go about it. Hey, Remus, wanna cuddle? Sirius, come sit on the lounge? James, your lips look pretty soft today.

You walk out into the main part of the house and it smells even better. Welcoming. You stand in the lounge room, damp tights pressed into the crush of carpet. Sirius is busy, Remus is making sure his pasta doesn't turn to mush, and you think James is still washing his hair.

You're used to your own routine after work but now you want to include the others because it makes sense. You feel silly.

Sirius looks up from his computer, his jaw washed in blue light. He pushes his reading glasses up his face and into his hair. "You okay, darling?"

You turn, mildly startled, with the pad of your finger in your mouth. You blink slowly. "Hmm?"

He seems half-amused, turning in his chair until he can see you properly. You feel barer than your clothes can allow. "You're half naked in the sitting room."

"Sorry," you wrinkle your face up. You're without a plan now and feel embarrassed. "I was gonna..."

As Sirius stands from his chair, James comes out of your room in his pyjamas on and a towel over his shoulder. His curls damp and a little flat. You think you might put some cream in them later if you remember.

Sirius stands in front of you, James stands to the side, half curious. "You were gonna?"

You swallow. Sirius has a funny way of making you shy. Probably because you know he'd have no problem asking you for a kiss, he does it every day. You're half-envious, half-nervous.

You duck your head, much to both boys' displeasure, and twist your feet until your tights bunch. "I feel silly now."

"Sirius does that sometimes," James says from over your shoulder. You can sense the look Sirius shoots him without having to look at them. You bite back a smile.

Sirius encourages your face up with the side of his finger under your chin. Your skin feels branded. "Hey, it's okay. What's on your mind?"

"You guys are busy."

"Not really," Sirius says softly. You really, really want to hold his hand.

"Yeah?"

"Well, Remus is," Sirius says. "But James and I are free."

You try to work up your courage and remember it's just Sirius. "Could we, maybe..." Sirius smiles, pretty teeth peeking out from his smooth lips. It strikes your heart alight. "Coul we maybe cuddle? Or something, I don't know, I just really need a hug."

You watch Sirius's shoulders fall. Letting out a breath he's been holding in. He relaxes. "Oh, baby, that's all?" He gets you into his arms when you pout. "I thought it was like super serious."

"It is serious," you mope into his button-up. "I really wanted a hug. I just didn't know how to ask."

"You're right," He steals a hand from your back to cradle your face. He holds you back and pushes a finger into your cheek. He looks mildly put out. "You're right, that is super serious. You know you don't have to ask for a hug, right?"

James finally comes around to steal you from Sirius. Gets you into his chest and hugs you until you're smothered. "You never have to ask any of us for a hug. Or a kiss. We're free range, baby."

"You guys were doing stuff," you go a little limp against his frame. He holds you up like you're nothing. "I felt stupid. I was just bored."

"Doesn't matter," he kisses the top of your head, swaying you back and forth a bit. “Hug me whenever. I know the others feels the same.”

“Even when I’m dressed like this?” You smother a giggle into his neck.

“Especially when you’re dressed like this,” James says. Sirius seconds it.

“Okay,” you sigh.

Lovesick, still hugging in the sitting room, you hear Remus call out that dinner’s now ready. You follow each other into the kitchen like a bunch of children.

You plate up your dinner while Sirius butters you a fresh roll. You smack a loving kiss to Remus’s cheek. “Thanks, Rem. Smells amazing.”

“Hey, can we eat on the sofa tonight?” James asks, already shovelling pasta into his mouth.

“Why?” Remus asks.

“Y/N wants to spend more time with us,” James wipes some sauce from his face, “She really wants to cuddle.”

“Oh, honey,” Remus pouts, “Why didn’t you just ask? I’ve been wanting to hug you all night.”

“That’s what I said!” You hear Sirius from behind you.

You warm, stuffing your mouth full of pasta to distract yourself.

The boys cuddle you all night.

#james potter #james potter x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #james potter fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly marauders #poly marauders fanfic

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eelnoise · 16 days

Text

anamnesis (nsfw!)

zoro x afab!reader cw: masturbation, solo m, pining, piv sex, some fluff wc: 912 an: zoro jerking off to reader during the timeskip has me in a chokehold. VERY self indulgent btw. tagging: @bby-deerling @kaizokuniichan @willowbelle @strawheart-pirate @themushroomofdeath

The damn island is too dark for anyone’s own good on most days, far too easy to miss a turn on the path back to the castle and subsequently ending up lost for a few hours. Countless times has Zoro wandered about the grounds absent-mindedly, thinking neither here nor there about where his feet take him, and countless times more has someone - usually the ghost girl - come to fetch him should he be gone too long.

But tonight sees Mihawk away, leaving him alone to train by himself for several days. Though usually up to the task of working on technique, he finds himself instead somewhere about the grounds with his back flat against a grassy hillside, eyes glued shut with one hand sprawled out on his stomach while the other hastily fists at his cock.

There’s a bit of shame to it that still lingers. Not of the act in itself but because at the very forefront of his mind all Zoro can see is traces of his limbs entangled with yours with clothes long shed and tossed aside, tucked away in some private corner of the ship having your fill of one another.

A soft grunt escapes from his lips as he pictures you above him, thighs at either side of his own with your hands tangled into fistfuls of his hair. He imagines his fingertips dipping harshly into the soft flesh of your hips, thighs - just whatever he can get his hands on while you roll your hips up and down on his length.

Zoro can all but taste your lips upon his - a recurring pattern of this already unusual behavior from him - locked in a loop of increasingly messy, breathless kisses. He craves his tongue entwined with yours, wanting to capture every sound you make, to swallow each one to sate a sweet tooth reserved for you and only you.

In a moment that now feels like an age gone by, the two of you had shared a very passionate moment - one he can scarcely remember the moments leading up to. The kiss you had given him that night on the open sea - his first - just days before your forced separation nearly two years ago replays in his head on repeat, muting the nuances prior but sends with it a barrage of emotion he continues to struggle to bear yet yearns to understand.

It’s why the reverie behind his lids dances with visions of you and sings in the tune of your voice. It’s why his toes curl in his boots at the thought of your skin upon his in the most intimate of ways. It’s why he craves the whole of you, why he wants to somehow find the words to tell you how he feels, why he thinks of you before he sleeps and why he hears your voice bid him good morning each time he wakes.

And now, it’s why he’s desperately stroking himself and wishing beyond hope that his hand was your pussy instead.

With his free hand he bundles the collar of his shirt between his teeth in an attempt to hide his own breathlessness. His legs bend at the knee in focus, and the sheer need that overtakes him in these final moments elicits a muffled growl from deep within his gut with the thought of just how good it would feel to fill you from the inside out and let proof of the act slide from your core and down his cock.

Zoro tightens his jaw and sweat beads trickle down his face as his pace quickens, and suddenly he’s biting at the bit to know just how you sound when you cum. In his mind’s eye you’re clawing down his back while he takes control, fucking up into you in a starry-eyed chase of clemency. Your fantasized voice pants his name like a prayer in his ear, finally forcing your lips apart to break into pieces atop him.

He wants to take you there and back again, needs to see your face twisted in delirium from something only he can supply. His head spins with the image of you writhing in his arms, yours holding onto him tightly when you tip over the edge. You cry out for him to keep going, you leave sloppy open-mouthed kisses along his neck, you whine and mewl and dig your nails down his back,muttering into his flesh about how good it feels or how much you-

How much you love him.

Zoro cums the instant the fictional you says the words in his head, the fabric in his mouth doing little to stifle the groans of pleasure playing from his lips while he covers his hand and lower belly in thick white spend with your name on his tongue, face in his mind, and voice in his soul.

He slides his shirt from his shoulders and quickly cleans himself up. Sitting up on the darkened hillside with his elbows resting on his knees, Zoro sighs and raises his now halfened gaze to the heavens. Are you staring up at the same sky, wherever you are? He scans the endless ocean of stars above, missing the times where you’d be next to him on the deck pointing out the various constellations and explaining their meanings - and even though he still doesn’t believe in astrology, Zoro has each of your favorite ones memorized.

He wants to tell you he has a favorite one, too.

#one piece x reader #x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #one piece smut #zoro x reader smut #i love himmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece scenario

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murdrdocs · 6 months

Note

mike ,,,, thoughts ,,,,…,…,.,… hes kinda shy and it often comes off to others like he’s being cold or uncaring but you know he just gets nervous to say or do the wrong things so he prefers to be a quiet person

anyway rubbing him through his pants …. you’re watching a movie together and you just slip your hand between his thighs and slooowly rub up and down his length and he’s glancing down and glancing back at you because he’s too respectful to say anything about it and too shy to take it further and he’s trying to subtly cross his legs and hide the fact he’s so hard and biting his lip to choke back his whimpers and—

oh this made me dizzy when i first saw it 😵‍💫 SMUT 17+

in the time that you’ve been dating, you’d constantly encouraged him to speak up, forcing him to give a ‘controversial’ opinion on a food item just for the sake of it. he’d always seemed a little uncomfortable during the moment, but nights later he’d purpose something, inciting an impressed smile on your face while you engaged in conversation.

with mike, though, actions always spoke louder than words. he’s not the best verbal communicator, choosing to speak with his body instead. he would do something miles before he would say it.

hence why you know his squirming beside you is less the cause of discomfort and more so because he wants you to do something. he’s crossing his legs only to uncross them a few moments later. he’s scooting further away, then closer, and then ending up in the position he’d started in. he’s clearing his throat and coughing and sending not so subtle glances your way.

and truthfully you’re putting him out of his misery whenever you slide your hand over his thigh, palm grazing the textured fabric of his deep blue jeans.

the movie is reaching its end on the boxed screen a few feet in front of you, but you’d seen it so often that you can tell the scene just from the noises alone. mike, on the other hand, still seems to be a bit interested. that or his shy demeanor is preventing him from looking at you fully.

either way, you know what he wants, further confirmation coming in the form of mike bucking up into your hand whenever you spread your palm flat over his tented crotch. he sighs audibly whenever you curl your hand into half of a fist, groping him through the double layers.

you glance from your hand to him, sending a tiny smile whenever you catch his eye. you abandon the starts of your work only to unbutton and unzip his jeans, scratching at his happy trail when you use one hand to pull the elastic of his boxers down, and the other to free his cock from the restraints.

you receive assistance, too, mike pushing his boxers and jeans down to his mid thigh. then, he sits back and bites his lower lip as he watches you take him from the base in your fist.

it’s rough, too much friction and no lubricant.

yet mike still throws his head back and you swear you hear a little “thank you” slip past his bitten lips.

either way, you take your hand away only to lewdly spit in it, bring it back to his erect and leaking cock, and smile at him sweetly as you say, “you’re welcome, mikey”.

#mschmidtsworld!#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt #celeste writes fnaf

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notjustjavierpena · 1 month

Text

Tension

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Back in November, I posted a fic where @nerdieforpedro wrote a comment in their tags that said ‘I need you to crack my back, sir’. This is stupid but it stuck with me, so here you go. I suppose it’s also my own way of saying that I see everything you all write about my stuff. I love y’all.

Summary: Your husband cracks your back when you come home from work. Also, you are trying for a baby.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, back-cracking, massages, a good girl, fingering, dirty talk, hard and fast piv sex, javier whimpering is its own warning, clit stim, breeding kink, creampie, they’re in loooove

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54705589

Tension

You drag yourself into the living room where Javier is currently napping on the couch, arms crossed over his chest and chin pointing downward. He looks peaceful but the tension in your back is enough to disturb him from his slumber and not feel bad about it.

You bend down over him, gently shaking him.

“Javi,” you call softly. It takes you three tries before he stirs, opening his eyes with a little confusion as he tries to figure out where he is.

“What is it, baby?” His voice is slightly raspy from sleep. You smile apologetically.

“I need you to crack my back,” you say.

You don’t know how it happened but it feels like something is pinched, probably from an awkward position during the night or even during other activities. You have tried to relieve the tension all day by twisting your body from side to side but to no avail.

“What?” He grabs the back of the couch to pull himself into a sitting position. You take a step back.

“I think something’s… I don’t know, it’s just so frustrating. I’m tense as hell,” you explain, turning your back to him to try and point to the spot that’s been aching since you got into work in the morning, “It’s right here. Between the shoulder blades.”

“Right,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, inhales deeply, and breaks into a yawn, “Take your top off and lie down on the floor.”

You do as he says, smiling a little to yourself as you hear the groan that he makes when getting up from the couch. Perhaps you should return the favor. You lay down on the floorboards of the apartment, flat on your stomach, face turning to the side, and your arms along your sides.

Another grunt is heard as Javier gets down on the ground with you. He places a knee on either side of your thighs, hovering above your legs, and then he takes a hold of the hem of your pants, “Okay if I pull them down a bit? Then I can do the whole spine.”

“Go ahead.”

Javier yanks down your bottoms, turning them into something that resembles low-rise style. He then heats up his hands by rubbing them together, “How rough can I be?”

“Can’t believe we’re doing something that requires you to ask that and it isn’t sex,” you wiggle your hips a bit but then wince as pain shoots through your body again.

“Answer the fucking question,” he says with a roll of his eyes, smiling but impatient.

“Don’t hold back.”

Javier’s now-warm palms settle on your back. You sigh softly at the feeling of him touching your skin so carefully, treating you like something delicate until you feel him place one hand on top of his other to center the pressure right between your shoulders. He pushes down and you exhale sharply.

Crack.

You moan in relief. Endorphins flood your system.

“That was so nice, baby,” you praise, “Thank you.”

“I’m not done,” Javier kisses you right where he has just relieved the tension. Then he moves down and does it again.

Another crack is heard. You curl your toes, eyes fluttering closed as another wave of feel-good hormones begins to flow through your system.

“Good girl,” Javier compliments, and you don’t have to ask if he is smirking because it’s evident from the tone of his voice as he sees the shiver that creeps up your neck, “More?”

“Please.”

So he does it again.

And again.

Until you feel like putty underneath his touch. You want to say something but with each skim of his fingers, each rough push of his entire body’s weight, you only manage to groan in pleasure.

Above you, Javier has gone quiet but his breathing has turned more erratic. He has switched from cracking your back to massaging your sore muscles instead, kneading along your sides whilst you reward him with small sighs and moans of satisfaction as well as gratitude.

You shiver as he presses his thumbs into the place where your neck meets your shoulders, holding it for a while before dragging his whole palms outwards. It feels good, almost like an embrace.

He repeats the move until you feel sweat starting to break out on your skin from how warm his hands are. A moan escapes your mouth, the same kind that you usually make when he kisses your neck.

“You like that?” He asks in a tone that you know too well. You nod. He does it again but goes closer to your neck this time, fingers skimming along your pulse point.

Something in the atmosphere shifts after that.

Soon, he descends on your body, going achingly slow as he searches out his goal. He ends up digging two thumbs into the very top of your ass. He isn’t downright groping you but there’s a hesitation each time he pushes into the plump flesh there. Teasingly, you push up into his hands.

“You’re so sexy like this,” he mutters and you can hear him move on the floor, crawling backward so he can kiss the small of your back when he leans down.

“With a sore back?” You snort to hide how excited this is making you, a dull ache settling between your thighs.

“In any way,” he clarifies. He doesn’t even hesitate when he starts pulling down both your pants and your underwear, and you don’t protest but instead lift your hips to help him yank them down until they sit around your ankles.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he dips a finger inside of you, pushing down towards your stomach to make you squirm on the floor. You whimper. He makes a come-hither motion to rub against your g-spot and you immediately move your arms forward to grab at the ground. Your cunt squelches and Javier swears again, “You’re soaked.”

“Of course, I am, was so fucking good the way you were touching me, and… I’m like a damn clock with being wet for you when I ovulate,” you moan, pushing back against his hand. He groans at the realization of what time of the month it is. He gets to put a baby in you.

His fingers work you open, teasing you towards an orgasm by doing exactly what he knows gets you there quickly. The sounds of your wetness are obscene, only getting more lewd when you come right there on the floor with your pants around your thighs.

“Baby, shit, more,” you pant with a desperate whine, clenching around Javier’s digits as they continue rubbing against your front wall even though your orgasm has long subsided. He doesn’t relent but you don’t mind, relishing in the pressure inside of your cunt. It’s good but it’s not his cock, “Fuck me, baby. Please, I— I need you in me.”

You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone and then the shuffle of denim being pulled down. You look over your shoulder to find him with his jeans sitting around his knees, too desperate himself to get fully undressed.

“Eyes forward,” he commands you and ignores his own desire until you do as you are told. You hold onto the floorboards with flat hands, only spreading your legs slightly to make him as tight a fit inside of you as possible.

His whole weight crushes you so heavenly in the next moment, and his generous length sheaths itself in the warm embrace of your soaked walls with ease until he bottoms out. Your face screws up with the intensity especially because he leans down over you to groan hotly into your ear.

“Love this little pussy,” he moans as you both adjust to being connected like this. He rests a forearm beside your head, biting into your shoulder and soothing the mark with his wet tongue. It drives you insane that he is not moving inside of you yet, and he seems to know with how he taunts you, “Want me to fuck her silly?”

“Javi,” you whimper and nod frantically, “I’ll come so good for you, milk your big cock with my pussy. Please, baby.”

“I bet you will, mi chica sucía (my dirty girl),” he answers before giving you exactly what you want; the first roll of his hips makes your mind go blank, even moreso when he starts fucking you into the floor like an animal.

His legs frame yours, his pelvis crashes into the plump flesh of your ass with a dirty smack each time, and he is burning hot against your back. You won’t last long with him reaching so deep inside of you, the thick head of his stiff cock sliding over your g-spot like his fingers had earlier. Each nudge makes your cunt suck him further in, and he starts panting above you with the effort he puts into fucking you. It doesn’t even occur to you that your knees are aching when he has you like this.

“Please,” you beg without exactly knowing what you want from him; everything he is giving you has you dizzy with lust. You tense up as your orgasm approaches with rapid motions, and he goes even harder now that you don’t fly forwards with the slamming of his body into yours, “Gonna come— I’m… oh, I’m coming, fuck, baby, I’m coming!”

“I can feel you,” he growls and barely moves inside of you anymore, having replaced it with grinding against you to not miss a single pulse of your spasming, peaking cunt. You writhe underneath him, and he treats you to a messy kiss as one of his hands comes up to cup your chin so he can turn your head.

“Come in me, please, baby, need your babies in me,” you cry against his mouth with furrowed eyebrows. He whimpers at your request, faltering in his rhythm for the first time since he started fucking you.

“I’ll make you come so hard again, mi amor (my love), want you to spasm around my dick,” he stutters a bit when he speaks. The hand on your chin slips down your body and then underneath it too, his flat palm against your pelvis until he presses up into it to angle your hips. You stay in this new position, back arched to perfection - dopamine in your body making you forget the ache - so he can stab at your g-spot and follow it up by rubbing your needy clit with no buildup.

The neighbors are bound to hear you screaming as you come again a minute later. The clenching shocks of pleasure are mind-altering and enough for Javier to finish alongside you, spreading his warm seed inside of you with a desperate groan.

You both collapse with him still buried in you. Your clothes are sticky with how much you have sweated, your knees ache with reality slowly coming back, and your body feels warm and sated despite it all.

“Let’s just lie here for a while,” you say and reach behind you to grab at him as he starts to remove himself from you, “I think this was it. I know it sounds stupid but—“

“Nothing you say sounds stupid, mi amor (my love),” he still breathes hard, brushing your hair away to kiss your neck, “Love making babies with you.”

You make a noise of agreement. Then you rest your cheek against the floor whilst he nibbles on your neck, humming softly at the feeling of it combined with the lingering pressure of him in your cunt when he finally slips out.

“Te quiero tanto (I love you so much),” you say with closed eyes and a satisfied smile.

“Love you too, baby,” he says back and you can hear the smile in his voice.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

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frogchiro · 5 months

Note

I dunno why but like I’ve just been thinking right what if Makarov with reader who was being held at the same prison ( god knows why we won’t question that rn 😭 ) and after breaking him he takes the lil squad and goes to break reader out

There is one of the voice lines of Makarov in the game when you choose him as an operator that goes "Someone of your talent belongs at my side" and oh dear gOD this has inspired me so much😭

Okay so I kinda imagine this as some kind of 'what if?' scenario where basically Hackergirl's life goes terribly, no good, very bad wrong. After getting noticed and caught doing hacker work due to one life-changing slip up, instead of getting recruited by Laswell and eventually into the 141, you get thrown into Zordaya Prison and are left to rot.

You can imagine how hard the life was for someone who barely reached adulthood to live in such conditions and now that you're in your early twenties you're just full of resentment. You don't want to survive anymore, you want revenge, but what can you do? You'll probably die in this shithole sooner than later either from the cold or form poisoning from the garbage they call food.

Unbeknownst to you, you caught the eye of a certain russian who heard quite the things about a young and promising hacker while he was still free and now that he was incarcerated in the very same prison as you, he made sure to learn about you everything, you became his obsession so to speak.

So imagine your surprise and horror one faithful day when you hear many voices screaming and barking orders, soldiers and prison guards running amok and shots getting fired, then even more screams and alarms going off howling like crazy.

You're no soldier, you know that and if you make any noise you'll probably die; you don't want to die. You're scared.

Imagine being curled up in a corner of your cell, your breath quick and your heart feels as if it will jump right out of your chest with how quickly it flutters before it finally hitches when you notice a dark shadow loom over you. It was the tattooed man you've heard about. The russian devil some called him; Makarov.

You stared silently at him, your wide (e/c) eyes never moving away from him as his dark brown eyes bored into yours. After what seemed like hours of just staring at the large male outside your cell and those eerie eyes looking at you as if searching your soul, finally two soldiers came and started opening your cell door.

You recognized what they were doing, trying to get to you. Pushing your back flat against the farthest wall of your cell, you started hyperventilating. No. No no no, thi-this can't be it. You have things to do, things to finish and now instead of dying in a cold cell you'll be kicked and beaten to death like a street mutt. No.

"Please no-" but before you could finish your sentence, the man, Makarov, entered the room in absolute silence and as if he commanded every particle in it. He stopped a few paces away from you before offering you a hand, the same eerie look on his face and the words escaping his mouth that changed your life:

"Someone of your talent belongs at my side".

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #hackergirl!reader #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov #cod makarov

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tsimvkas · 2 months

Text

and for my husband… — mason mount

A/N: this is based on how i think mason would react to that husband trend on tiktok. let me know if you’d like me to write this with different players!

“I think I’ll go for a veggie burger and fries today bae, what do you want?” you asked Mason, who was comfortably curled up on the passenger seat of your car.

You know training has been harder for him lately, trying to prove he’s ready to come back, and when he asked you if you could pick him up you didn’t hesitate.

You are used to him coming back starving, so you decided to make a stop to order you both something since it was Friday night and you didn’t want to cook.

“Can you choose for me?” his groggy voice made you smile, and you scratched his scalp, softening at how he melted against the seat.

“Are you allowed to eat anything tonight? When was your last day off?”

“Two weeks ago” he yawned, opening his eyes to stare at you.

“Burger and milkshake then” you smiled, now stroking the hand he was resting on your thigh. Your boyfriend looked really tired, and you almost gave up on recording what you wanted.

It was a silly trend from TikTok where girlfriends were calling their boyfriend’s “husband” to see their reaction and you had the camera settled since you picked him up at Carrignton, but you weren’t expecting Mase to be practically napping in the car.

You spent the afternoon preparing yourself, and now you just wanted to call him like that — either it was recording or not. You just wanted to tell another person like ‘hey, my husband’, and you felt so silly about it, but before you could think any more it was your turn in line.

“Good night” you greeted the cashier. “Can I have the veggie burger, fries and a Coca Zero, please? Oh, and a brownie too”

“Anything else?” he gently smiled, and without looking at Mason you kept talking.

“Uhm and for my husband it’ll be a cheddar burger and a vanilla milkshake” you shyly said, unintentionally lower than your own order.

Later that night, you saw in the video how Mason instantly opened his eyes, sitting straight with a confused expression.

“Bro. Did you hear that?” Mase asked the cashier, his hand on your seat so he could lean forward.

“I’ve heard that” he laughed, amused by Mason’s reactio, and nodded..

“I thought you were sleeping?” you unpretentiously said, looking at your boyfriend’s face that was close to yours. Mason turned his head towards you and pecked your lips before talking to the cashier again.

“Wait buddy, add a milkshake and double fries for my wife, please” he smiled, and you could feel your cheeks burning. The word sounded pretty on his voice, and you felt a different level of love for him — need, desire, adoration.

“You don’t need to- I really thought you were sleeping”

“Husbands don’t sleep. Husbands keep an eye on everything” he pointed but you just rolled your eyes and tried to hand the cashier your credit card, but he took it from you. “No, no, husbands pay everything too”

“Mason!” you burst into a fit of giggles when he leaned over your lap and tapped his card against the reader.

He turned his face back at you and gave you a flat look. “Who’s Mason? I only know husband”

“Fine. You’re being silly, husband” you smiled.

“Bro!” Mason half screamed, half giggled, and the cashier laughed loudly, seeming to be having so much fun.

“Man! I definitely heard that” he hyped up Mason. “Here, Mrs. Husband, the receipt”

“Thank you” he chuckled, sitting back on his seat, his hand instantly resting on your thigh whilst you drove to take your order. “Husband, uh?”

“It was supposed to be boyfriend, guess it just slipped” you shrugged, trying to play it cool, but Mason squeezed your waist to make you look at him.

“No, I like the sound of it” he curled up again, his touch never leaving your skin. “Guess I’ll just have to give you the ring earlier”

#✧･ﾟ: *✧ tsimvkas — works #mason mount fics #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagines #mason mount fluffy #mason mount x y/n

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baka-bakeneko · 2 months

Text

Enrapture - Miguel O'Hara [NSFW]

Miguel O'Hara x Venom x Fem Spider Scientist reader (afab biology)

a/n: venom venom venom miguel again again again again! (part one)

tags: Minors DNI, NSFW, symbiotic relationship (still kinda), obsessive Venom, just as obsessive and possessive Miguel O'Hara, consensual non-consent, breeding kink, missionary, tentacle-like appendages, fighting over reader, dominance/ agression, p in v sex, wrap it before you tap it psa

wc: 2.7k

synopsis: Miguel and Venom can make it work. Venom and you can make it work. Miguel, Venom and you can make it work.

You woke up to the burning smell of pancakes. You'd rolled over in the middle of the night, curling into Miguel's scalding body and kicking away the comforter to opt of your fiance's heavy arms.

Fastening your tired body upright, your neck stiffened as you grabbed the flat sheet and tied it around you to inspect the smell.

"Venom, I'm telling you, she won't eat all this," Miguel whispered hurriedly, standing in the middle of the kitchen. Hands on his hips, he turned around in the direction of Venom's appendage darting back and forth.

Nourishment for amor, nourishment for Miguel. Nourishment for Venom.

Miguel reached to rub at his temple, another appendage of Venom's extending from his spine to grab onto the skillet cooking bacon.

You tiptoed to the doorway, hearing Miguel's hurried whispering and wanting to inspect.

"Venom!" Miguel hissed, grabbing onto the symbiote's appendage to stop him. "That's enough. I won't eat all this either."

That's not fair! I'm hungry.

"Honey?" You questioned, staring at Miguel in the kitchen holding Venom in his hand.

Both Miguel and Venom turned in your direction, taking in your shocked face. "Good morning....amor."

"W-w-what the hell is that?" You asked immediately, rushing to Miguel's side to touch at the black ooze.

Miguel attempted to twist away from you, forcing Venom back into his body. "Y/N, hermosa, relax. Please."

You ran your fingers along Miguel's spine, hoping to find a bulge where the black ooze originated from.

If she touches me, that's not my fault!

"Venom, relax." Miguel coaxed, allowing the symbiote to reel back into his spine.

You pulled your hand back and rested both on your hips. "Miguel. Explain."

Miguel exhaled and looked down at you. He reached to pinch at his brow then glanced around the messy kitchen, making sure no remnants of Venom were around.

"Okay," Miguel started, grabbing onto your waist and pulling you to sit on the counter.

You crossed your arms, kicking the train of the flat sheet around your legs while glaring at your fiancé.

"So," Miguel began, pacing before you once as he swiped his palm over his face. "That...is Venom. The anomaly you found yesterday."

Your brows shot up as you slid off of the counter. "I'm sorry? The anomaly...Is in your body."

Miguel stiffened in place, backing into the stove as you stepped closer towards him. "Yes," he spoke slowly.

"You immediately put that thing in your body?" You reached for Miguel's wrist and hissed at the heat from his skin.

"No! No, it's just...Venom is symbiotic." Miguel tried while you lifted his arm to look under it.

You examined his bare side, seeing no bulges or sores that the appendage could expel from. Dropping Miguel's arm, you glared at him in disbelief.

"What did you do, Miguel?" You narrowed your eyes, running your hands along his waist then up the front of his body.

Her touches, they feel...

Miguel muscled through Venom's excited traipsing along his spine and grit his teeth.

"I was trying to do research. The thing, Venom, as you've seen, responds to both of our bodies."

You nodded slowly for Miguel to continue, eyes narrowed at him.

"I opened the box, attempted to touch it..."

You continued following his explanation, eyes roaming blankly over his body. There were no telling signs of the anomaly on him.

"It sank into me, amor." Miguel said finally, then turned over his shoulder to call for Lyla.

The sprite blipped into existence, producing her AI tablet with Miguel's body scan results. "Hey, check this out."

She held it in front of your face, allowing you to scan through the layout of Miguel, seeing the heat map light up along his body, then the shifting ooze within him.

Your eyes darted between Lyla's tablet to Miguel and back. "It attacked your spleen? Is it hostile?"

Miguel held his hands up in defense. "No. As I've said, we've come to a symbotic relationship."

You furrowed your brows at your fiancé. "But why? Why would you do that?"

For you, amor.

Miguel stood upright and forced his fist to the middle of his spine where Venom was housed.

What? It's true.

Miguel cleared his throat and met your eyes. "I allowed him my symbiosis to deny him you."

"Miguel..." you began, looking up from Lyla's tablet. "Does it wish to ingest me?"

Definitely not. The things I'd like to be in her.

Miguel pursed his lips together, turning on the burner behind his back. "No. It - he - Venom wanted you to host them. They find you compatible symbiotically."

"How does Venom know that?" You asked, crossing your arms again.

"Venom comes from Klyntar, where symbiotic beings like itself can judge compatible hosts by interaction via skin scanning." Lyla read off of the tablet.

You tightened the wrap of the flat sheet around you. "Lyla, what is Miguel's compatibility rate with Venom?"

Miguel straightened up, resting his hands on his waist. "Lyla, don't read tha--"

"Eighty-three percent."

Miguel exhaled deeply, shutting his eyes to ease his fast beating heart. "You are not getting her. We agreed."

We agreed, but if she asks...

You glared at Miguel, then looked over at Lyla's tablet. Upon reading Miguel's body map, you noticed that the symbiote housed itself in his spine.

You reached out, curling your arm around Miguel's body to touch the middle of his spine. Miguel flinched, recognizing where you were touching as Venom seemingly purred beneath his skin.

His eyes fluttered.

She's petting us.

"I know," Miguel whispered, staring down at you. Your chin was rested between his pectorals, keeping his stare while you tested your theory. "What're you getting at, hermosa?"

"I want to share Venom," you admitted softly. "To ease you of them harming you."

Yes!

"No," Miguel stated firmly, worming out of your hold when he felt Venom begin to seep from his skin. "I can't let you do that. I don't want you to."

"Why not?" You asked, turning as Miguel rounded the kitchen island.

Yes, Miguel. Why not?

Miguel shook his head, leaning forward against the counter. "I want to know how to get rid of him if I need to. If you took part of him..."

Your furrowed brows softened the more you stared at him. You understood instantly, but the thought of Miguel putting himself forward infuriated you.

You reached out for his hand. "If he's not dangerous, then we shouldn't worry now."

The silence between you grew until the dark appendage spawned from Miguel's side. You reached out with your free hand to timidly touch at the freeforming ooze, watching as it slithered between your fingers in a grasp.

Miguel took a deep breath, carefully minding you and Venom interacting. Venom's ooze slithered along your forearm, wrapping around to your elbow.

Mi amor.

Miguel hid a roll of his eyes, urging Venom to pull back. "He seems to really like you."

You smiled, lifting your arm before meeting Miguel's eyes. "Almost as much as you?"

"Never as much as me," Miguel said, relaxing his shoulders.

Spoil sport.

Miguel stepped closer to you, lowering his head to rest his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry..."

You exhaled against his lips, inhaling the stale coffee on his breath. As your lips met, the slack ooze of Venom grew taut between you. Your hand, once accepting Venom's touch, was now bracing Miguel's waist.

Your fingers slowly slipped beneath his waistband. Miguel hummed against your lips, feeling Venom gear up to travel up and down his spine in excited waves.

He imagined the symbiote practically panting over his shoulder, making him salivate extra in his kiss. Venom sloshed over Miguel's tongue, tainting your taste with his before darting to try at your mouth.

Miguel pulled back with a clearing of his throat, wiggling whatever inch of Venom tried at you. You quirked a curious brow, your hand petting round the front of Miguel's waist.

"Sorry, he-uh-he almost slipped into your mouth." Miguel gulped, leaning in to resume where he was interrupted.

You curled your free arm around the back of Miguel's neck, heightening on your tiptoes. "Next time, let him."

I'm in love.

Miguel swore under his breath but met your lips again, this time pinning you against the counter before pulling you up. The flat sheet around your body slowly cascaded away, tangled to the floor by Miguel's feet.

Your hand at Miguel's waist dove to caress his nestled pubic hair, grinning at the abrasive texture before feeling the length of his cock.

Venom purred in Miguel's chest, met with the invitation to play along. The dark appendage appeared from Miguel's spine, tickling at your knee before slithering along your inside thigh.

You jolted at the touch, hotter than Miguel's actual hands or tongue. Still, you took Miguel's hands and guided them over your breasts, down your sides before they rested on your hips.

Venom's touch continued, seeping between Miguel's fingers and under one of your breasts. Miguel seethed against your kiss, feeling the symbiote lush his way into your mouth by way of him.

Miguel pressed himself closer, stamping himself to you in dominance. "Backseat, Venom."

No fair. She said let me in.

Miguel bit away, pressing his lips to your cheek to whisper to the alien. "Not in every way. She's mine first."

You huffed in Miguel's ear, biting your lip as you arched into him. "Are you two fighting over me?"

"What? No!"

Yes!

You pulled back to meet Miguel's reddened eyes, the obsidan oozing into his iris much like you'd seen the night before. "Well, don't. I trust you, okay? And I trust Venom in there, too."

Your hand trailed up and down Miguel's spine again, no doubt riling up the symbiote further. Miguel shivered at the affection, Venom purring hard enough to make him vibrate within.

"H-he likes that," Miguel admitted, his body stiffening as his eyes fluttered. "A lot."

You smirked. "Seems he's not the only one."

C'mon, Miguel. We make a good team.

Miguel tried to bite his tongue, but felt the warmth ripple through him with each rumbling purr. You hissed at the feeling, his chest rumbling against yours as Venom's appendages softly seeped from Miguel's body onto yours.

"Once," he grit before your parted lips. "Just this once. And he stops when you tell him."

Of course, our amor comes first.

He slammed his eyes to not roll them before you. You agreed, taking in his stuttering breaths before opening your legs further.

"Be gentle, Venom," you urged, feeling the onyx appendage lapping its way further to your slit.

Miguel cut the symbiote short, managing to touch your clit first in the race of carnal desire. You shivered at your fiance's touch, your knees trembling as he swirled your wet against his rough fingerpads.

Venom's appendage caught up, seeping between Miguel's fingers and peeling back your hood to latch onto your sensitive nub. Your hand lashed out at Miguel's wrist, nails aching to pierce his skin as you cried into his mouth.

The sensitivity was too much at once, drawing your breaths high and tight. Your leg raised, knee buckling against your fiance's side as Venom's touch crested and waned in a soft suckling.

Miguel's nostrils flared, the scent of your arousal fueling his senses. His fingers were doused in you, dipping them to circle your entrance.

You cried further into Miguel's mouth, breaking from his kiss to whine at the ceiling. His lips sloppily crashed against your chin then down to your neck as extra appendages appeared from his sides. Venom caressed your breasts, slithering under them before attaching to your nipples.

Miguel sneered, glaring at your body covered in Venom's darkness. "Venom," he began, his tone edging with disdain.

"Miguel," you whimpered, grabbing the back of Miguel's neck to pull him back into you. "Fuck me."

He gulped dryly, his cock actively straining against his boxers.

Fuck her, Miguel. Fuck her good.

Miguel actively wanted to scoff at the symbiote conversing in his head. He met your lips, pumping his fingers into you as Venom pulsed at your clit.

"Has he warmed you up?" he asked snarkily.

Your eyes fluttered, trying to laugh but a moan escaped your mouth and reverberated against Miguel's. "Are you jealous?"

Miguel chided in stride. "He's only a part of me. He'll butter you up, but I fuck you raw."

A chill raked down your back, arching into Miguel's hot body; melting Venom from your nipples and leaving your pressed, skin to skin, against Miguel.

Miguel rested his hand to your jaw, pulling you to meet his obsidian flooded gaze. Your eyelids fluttered, matching his pumping fingers with rolls of your hips.

"He can aid in your pleasure, but I deliver it. Don't I?" Miguel asked sultrily, searching your lusty eyes already knowing the answer.

You nodded softly, your knee catching to his side and arching back at Miguel's guidance.

"I've been here before him," Miguel stated, dropping his lips to kiss between your breasts, then dragging his warm lips further to peck at your ribs. "And I'll be here long after him, he lives in my wake. I'll give you everything you desire."

Suck up.

Miguel grinned devilishly against your belly, admiring how your body reacted to his touch versus Venom's. Your chest heaved, ready to break.

"Miguel, please," you pleaded. Your hand holding his wrist actively trying to speed him up.

He chuckled, retreating his fingers to pull down his boxers. Angling his steel cock at your entrance, licking his lips at the sight of Venom holding you open to aid the process. Your thighs trembling from your clit being decimated by the symbiote's pressure.

Miguel drove into you, instantly melting at the hug of your velvety walls. His hands, starting from your hips, slithered up your body then back down to force you harder on his cock.

Your head fell back against the counter, a sharp moan escaping from your chest.

"Fuck," Miguel growled against your outstretched body under him. "You're burning up."

His tongue lapped against your skin, the stripe of saliva instantly drying. Miguel climbed over you, stretching his hands out to grab yours and pin them to the counter.

His hips jutted harshly into you, jiggling your body underneath him. Miguel's eyes boggled at the divine sight of you, slowing in his pace to savor your pleasure.

Venom tightened at your clit, pinching before receding. You draped your legs over Miguel's thighs, riding into his thrusts.

The symbiote emerged from Miguel's sides in dark wings, slithering over his host and oozing onto you, between your combined bodies.

Miguel ignored Venom, pulling your hands up over your head for him to drape his arms around your head. Your eyes were locked on Miguel's, forgetting about the rumbling symbiote present between you.

Miguel felt Venom's tentacles slither around his cock, cradling his balls at the same time of holding your pussy open. You lifted your hips, your breath arching higher until you finally orgasmed at the combined force of Miguel and Venom.

Your noises vibrated through your fiance, making Venom pull back and rumbled up and down Miguel's back. Miguel panted, feeling Venom purr within him and practically zoom back and forth on his spine.

The combined senses caused Miguel to drive into you hard, seething as he came as far into you as his cock would let him. The warmth pooled into you, making you feel hotter and overtouched.

Miguel pulled out, slapping his cock against your spent pussy. You hissed softly, your knees shifting to clamp together.

"Mi amor, mi amor, mi amor," Miguel soothed, curling his arms around you, his touch suddenly soft and loving.

Nuestro amor, Miguel.

He kissed your forehead, pulling you into his lap while lightly brushing over your shoulders. Ignoring Venom's sentiment.

"Was it too much? Were we...?" Miguel asked, looking down at you rested against his chest.

Your ear rested against him, shutting your eyes to see if you could hear Venom inside Miguel. Tilting your head up at your fiance, you opened your eyes to see Miguel's natural eye color meeting yours.

"I like the two of you together," you tittered, offering a soft kiss to Miguel's pectoral. "Not so bad."

Miguel sneered, almost entertained by your sentiment. He leaned in to kiss your forehead again, muttered against your hairline:

"Don't expect it all the time."

She likes me!

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