#prayer circle for the tags to work today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zepskies · 4 months

Note

Hi, how are you?

I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please

Hey, lovely!

I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.

Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.

When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.

But also cautious.

He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.

And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.

That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.

He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.

You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.

You're wonderfully weird.

And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.

Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.

You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.

Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.

He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...

And yet.

He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.

You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).

But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)

It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.

And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.

Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.

Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.

"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.

You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.

"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.

Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.

"They're cute," he adds.

You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.

"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.

"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"

He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.

"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.

"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy."

"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.

"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.

You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"

He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."

"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.

Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.

Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.

"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.

You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.

"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.

Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.

Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.

It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.

He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.

Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.

There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.

But it's you.

"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"

"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.

"Thanks," he says.

You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.

Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)

"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.

This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?

You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.

Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."

"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.

Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.

"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.

You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.

It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.

Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.

When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.

Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.

You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.

You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.

With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.

Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.

He finds that and more when he looks up at you.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.

"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.

You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."

Sam takes you at your word.

AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!

(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)

Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SW Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @tipthejar

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @violetlilysunshine @nic-kolas @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @malindacath @brujaporfavor @katherineann83 @torchbearerkyle

@sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @adoringanakin @sanscas @pap3rtigers @kaleldobrev @nix-rose

#Sam reads you wrong #Sam winchester imagine #Sam winchester x reader #Sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #angst #reader requests #ask me stuff #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

720 notes · View notes

gimmeurtmi · 2 years

Text

puppy love — bang chan

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, fluff, domestic bliss

warnings: swearing, fluff, puppy!, i wrote this at 4am.

inspo: buzzfeed’s puppy interview

notes: i couldn’t not write this, okay? chan with puppies was just everything i needed.

{ wc: 1925 }

“okay, don’t get mad,” your boyfriend said as soon as you stepped foot in your flat.

you barely even closed the door behind you yet he already stood in front of you, hands in front of his body as if to protect himself or stop you from lashing out on him.

“what did you do?” you asked slowly, looking around the house suspiciously.

“promise you won’t get mad first,” chan begged, hands now in a small prayer lock in front of his body. he even bowed his head slightly.

“i won’t get mad,” chan sighed in relief, “unless you did something incredibly stupid.”

“no, no, listen,” he tried to defend himself, “it’s not stupid! i thought it through!”

“channie,” you giggled, taking a step forward, “what did you do?”

“it was felix who suggested it and honestly, yeah, i agree with him so i don’t think it’s anything bad, really, i have a whole plan in place so you won’t have any stress about it and i promise i’ll take care of everything and—“

“—chris!” you yelled out, putting both your hands on his shoulder. “just tell me and stop freaking out before i even reacted.”

he smiled sheepishly at you before nodding his head.

“okay, so,” he took in a deep breath, “you know how we had an interview with buzzfeed today?”

“sure,” you nodded, your mind blanking out of any possibilities for what your boyfriend might have done to make him react this way; too nervous to even confess what he did.

“anyway. we have a dog now.”

as if waiting for his cue, just as chan spoke those words, a small puppy ran into the room.

it was black and white, but you could only barely make out his fur as he zoomed around your living room from one end to the other, slipping and sliding on the floor, as if chasing an invisible foe.

“his name is maniac,” chan smiled, hopefully.

“oh, i can tell,” you chuckled, as maniac came over to you and jumped up your leg a few times in greeting.

you picked up the puppy, letting it squirm in your hold as he licked you and kicked his paws around your arms.

“so?” chan raised his eyebrows, his irresistible smile following. “what do you think?”

“no,” you said simply.

“what? why?” he exclaimed.

“chan, you’re never home,” you sighed, “who’s gonna take care of this little guy when you’re away and i’m working?”

“okay, so,” chan took his phone out, “here’s a list of the top ten dog sitters in our area.”

“chan—“

“—and here’s a number for a dog trainer as well, who can look after him when we’re both busy and maybe teach him some manners as well.”

“but—“

“—and until he’s fully trained i bought these puppy pads,” he pointed to the corner, where a white pad as big as maniac sat on the floor, “so he won’t make a mess. and if he ever does i will clean it up.”

“and when you’re not here?”

“i spoke to a cleaner and they’re fine with coming along to clean the house if that ever happens.”

so he did think it through.

“okay, but what about our trip to jeju island next month?” you raised your brows.

“i spoke to the airbnb and they said they accept animals with an extra charge which i already paid for. and the man suggested some nice dog friendly activities around the area as well.”

it was almost like maniac knew you were talking about him, about an exciting trip, and he started wagging his tail manically before he jumped out of your arms and started rushing around the table in quick circles.

“he needs to be neutered,” you pointed out.

“he has an appointment with a vet tomorrow afternoon for his shots and that as well.”

“you promised me we’re going shopping tomorrow,” you countered.

“felix is taking him after the appointment,” he assured you.

you purses your lips as you stared him down. you had no more objections to raise at him.

you knew your boyfriend, and he was never impulsive. he would’ve thought every scenario through before bringing the dog into the house.

you sighed.

chan did his best impression of maniac’s puppy eyes and fuck did it work.

“okay.”

“okay?” he nearly yelled.

“if you promise to keep up everything you just said,” you pointed a finger at him in warning.

“yes, yes! i promise!”

“and he’s not sleeping in our bed,” you warned.

“you want me all to yourself?” he smirked at you, stepping forward to plant a kiss on your cheek.

“shut up,” you giggled, as he planted more and more kisses on your skin.

chan wrapped his strong arms around your body, pulling you into a close hug before he released.

“okay now that you’re not mad, let’s go get some takeaway from that place you really like down the street,” chan raised his brows at you, dimples on full display, sparkles in his eyes. he knew you couldn’t resist him—and although the would never abuse that power—you both knew you weren’t going to get mad at him regardless of what he did.

you nodded at him, placed a small kiss on his cheek, and waited patiently as chan got the brand new lead he bought along with all the other things your new puppy might need.

chan had to chase maniac around the room three times before the puppy stood still for long enough for chan to click the lead onto the black collar maniac wore.

“maybe we should get him a green collar, so he can match with the song,” you suggested. chan giggled at you.

“we can buy him anything you want, my darling,” he promised, grabbing hold of maniac who was squirming around as he took his keys and wallet off the side table.

the pair of you started walking slowly to your destination, maniac’s lead secured around chain’s wrist as he shoved his hand into his black skinny jeans.

the weather was soothing, the warm air around you relieved slightly by a low breeze, and the sun was still a few hours away from setting. you could feel the hints of autumn in the air still.

the slow pace of your walk, chain’s outfit, the weather—it was all so reminiscent of your first date. chan took you for a walk down to the park where the pair of you sat down for a picnic and talked and talked and talked. he was wearing all black that day too, a plaid shirt tied around his waist. he later on confessed he only brought it along in case you were cold and needed another layer. he hasn’t cut that habit ever since.

your visit to jeju island was planned in order to celebrate two years together, so even the time of year was the same.

it felt like taking a walk in the past—the only difference now was the puppy running circles around you two, and the fact chan was your lockscreen and not the boy you were nervous about holding hands with.

because you could, because you wanted to, you bumped your hand against chan’s, the same way you did that night when you wanted to hold his hand but were too scared to initiate the contact.

when you bumped your knuckles together, chan giggled.

“i was just thinking about our first date, you know,” he mused, “you did that that night too.”

“only took you ten minutes to get my hint and hold my hand that night,” you rolled your eyes at him with a grin.

“i was building up the courage!” he defended, lacing your hands together in a calm familiarity. “you can’t just hold a pretty girl’s hand without preparing.”

“well, i hope you’re prepared for this,” you pulled on your interlocked hands, stopping chan’s walk, before you placed your free hand on his cheek. you pulled him in as you pressed your lips together. chan sighed into the kiss.

“nothing can prepare me for your kisses,” he confessed as you pulled away slightly, eyes still closed.

“even after two years?” you giggled.

“when we’re celebrating twenty years i still won’t be used to it,” he promised, inviting a small family of butterflies into your stomach.

your ears grew warm as you looked into chan’s face and the sparkle hiding in his brown eyes.

at that, maniac jumped up on your legs, urging he gets more of the attention.

so the pair of you resumed your walk, the lead long enough to let him explore while still comfortably within chan’s grasp.

you picked up the food and made your way back home, not wasting any time before devouring your favourite dish.

when dinner was done chan showed you how much food maniac should be having (according to google) and promised to ask the vet for the proper advice on that. once maniac was done eating (he reminded you of jeongin when he ate) the three of you decided on watching a movie.

chan wrapped a hand around your shoulders, inviting you to cuddle into his chest as you watched whatever new film netflix was suggesting first.

chan rubbed his hands up and down your arm, sneaking a kiss onto the top of your hair every now and then.

midway through the movie, maniac jumped on the bed, and you noticed he was holding something gray in his mouth.

he walked all the way over to you, and placed it on your lap. it was wolfchan.

“maniac!” you cooed, “where did you find him? i’ve been looking all over for him!”

it was clear from the way the puppy raised his eyebrows at you that he thought wolfchan was just a toy, and was waiting for you to throw it around so you two could play, but instead you tucked wolfchan safely under your arm.

maniac whined impatiently.

chan patted his lap a few times, his voice raising incredibly high as he told maniac to come sit down.

“good boy,” he said, going even higher, “she couldn’t sleep without him when i’m gone.”

maniac’s head turned 45 degrees to the side, as if he was failing to understand why chan would ever be gone. you’d get along well with maniac, you think.

“chan,” you said after a while, the three of you settled into a warm position. your hand was rubbing up and down the puppy’s fur after he settled down in your boyfriend’s lap.

“yeah?” he hummed before kissing your cheek.

“you said he isn’t gonna sleep in our bed.”

“we’re just cuddling, he’ll jumped down after,” chan promised.

halfway through the movie you dosed off—you realised this when you woke up at five in the morning with an urge to pee.

chan was wrapped around you and so you delicately peeled his hands off you. you were quite used to doing that after all this time.

maniac followed you out of the room, waited patiently—which you did not expect—and followed you back into bed once you were done, as if he was tasked with keeping you safe during the night.

he jumped onto the bed right after you climbed in and settled back into chan’s warm embrace.

he definitely didn’t tell maniac to get off the bed once the movie was over.

it was the only time chan ever broke one of his promises to you—but when you looked at maniac curled into a black and white ball at the edge of the bed, you decided you weren’t that mad about it anyway.

4K notes · View notes

safely-in-vhagars-belly · 11 days

Text

A little wicked (Dark! Aemond x reader/rhaenyras daughter) really dark aemond. 18+ MDNI

Aemond x reader x Aegon

Tags: Showsetting, au MAJOR SEASON 2 SPOILERS

🔷Summary: After your husband dies, his brother claims his throne and also you.

🔷Author's note: Dark. I don't throw that label around lightly. you know the drill, dead dove? do not eat.

🔷Wordcount :4939

🔷Warnings: Smut, p in v, mention of loss of virginty, dubcon loss, death, misgony, misogny- aemond hates rhaerhae. Dark aemond, gore, blood.

You await your husband’s arrival, back from the battlefield. Today is the Battle of Rook’s rest. A battle that would go down in the History books of Westeros, Essos, all realms that ever were or will be. Unaware to you, of course. You are miles away from the battlefield, preparing for the return of your beloved husband, King Aegon II Targaryen.

You have prayed, for the first time in years, actually. Your mother didn’t believe much in prayer, more in action. You think her relationship with Alicent Hightower forever caused a deep religious wound. Religion is something that reminds your mother too much of her lost friend. So therefore, it wasn’t important in your upbringing.

Soon, you’ll be crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and finally take your rightful place beside Aegon. You have the foolish hope that you, as Rhaenyra's daughter, maybe can mend the wound. Maybe your mother can be swayed to bend the knee, to give up her claim to the throne. If only it was that simple.

You await news. Any news. At first you are positive that Aegon has made it back unaltered. He has to. He is the king, the fierce warrior you know and while he is nowhere as good as Aemond, he has more experience than those Rook Rest soldiers. It has to be enough. He has to be enough.

However, as minutes turn into hours, and the sun and the moon dance and circle one another in the sky, you become immensely worried about the fate of your loved one. You are thankful for when the doors of the throne room are pushed open and Prince Aemond enters, at long last.

Recently, the young Prince switched from dark black leather to green dark leather, to fully show his support for his family. You remind yourself you are a hostage to these people, stolen. The corners of the prince’s lips lift mere inches, as if smiling. Yet he quickly brushes that away, as if he cannot be seen that way.

Cole follows, his face sorrowful and full of pain. The sort of pain you see on a father’s face when he loses a son. You feel your smile die as the world seems to slow down, to fade, and to darken instantly. Cole steps forward.

Aemond walks to you. Your feet rush, but your legs are frozen, causing you to stumble and to almost fall flat on your face. Aemond pretends to walk to you, but instead walks past you, to the big Iron throne that looms over you as a dark curse.

You watch in silence as he sits down, confirming your worst fears. You hear yourself gulp, as tears stream down your face. Your Aegon is no longer alive. King Aemond now sits the throne, and he sits it as if it took him too long to begin with. He smiles down at you, mocking and almost patronizing. Cole speaks, as first. ‘’All hail his grace, King Aemond of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the Andels, and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms, and protector of the realm!’’ The words hit you like blows.

Aemond lifts his chin as all soldiers around you and all knights, servants, everyone with working legs falls down to their knees, respecting and vowing loyalty to their new monarch. Everyone but you, that is. Aemond waits quite a while before he tells everyone to raise again. Likely enjoying everyone on their knees for him, and him alone. As a cat toying with a mouse.

After that the servants are rounded up, to be informed of the King’s fate. ‘’My dear people. It is with great sadness and immense pride, that I announce the death of my brother, King Aegon II. He shall be known to history as King Aegon the Brave, for he slew the traitor Princess Rhaenys. Had it not been for her treasonous acts on battlefield, our king would be alive today.’’ He waits a moment as gasps and relieved words cross the hall. ‘’It is with great pride that I shall now serve you as King, until my younger nephew, Prince Maelor comes of age. You may all now either bend the knee, or remain standing.’’ He gestures to the guards, and on his sign, they all draw their swords. A clear choice.

You watch as the one after the other servant drops to their knees, swearing loyalty to the newly crowned King. After that is done they are all dismissed. ‘’Y/n. Please stay here.’’ The use of just your name makes your hair stand up. It is intimate, almost familiar.

You freeze.

Aemond finally rises from the throne, a smile on his lips. You wait and remain where you are. He does not beckon you closer, so you remain there. He walks closer to you until he is in front of you. He looks at your gown, taking in the details of the bodice. ‘’My condolences on the loss of your husband.’’ He whispers, gently.

You blink back tears. ‘’Can I go home now? We must write to my mother that the war is over. She can come collect her throne.’’ You look over to the ugly iron thing. Aemond chuckles, adoring your naivety and your good righteous heart.

He even reaches out to touch your face, gently caressing it and wiping away a few tears with his thumb. He brings his thumb to his mouth, sucking on it, tasting your tears. You watch, speechless. He grins. ‘’My gentle hearted sweet girl.’’ It sounds like a compliment and also an insult. ‘’I have no intention to stop the war. Your mother will sit on that throne when your brother Lucerys finds his head again. You will leave her in a coffin or when I am dead.’’ You scoff, insulted and step away, ready to leave.

He grabs you firmly by your arms, dragging you closer. You are pinned against his front, where you can still see blood on his shirt. His smirk only grows as you lower your head, avoiding his eye. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him as you silently cry. ‘’I haven’t lost, you see. I have the crown, the throne, and you.’’ He does the unspeakable and leans in for a kiss, leaving a soft peck on your lips. He moans softly against your lips. ‘’My darling, my sweet precious thing.’’ He murmurs.

You give him a weak push against his chest, barely moving him. But it gets the message across. Aegon is not even cold yet. “I’m your brother’s widow!’’ You yell in righteous fury.

He laughs at that, capturing you easily with your hands again, and you hate yourself that you like how warm and fast his hands act. ‘’That means nothing in our family. You are my captive, Lady Strong. Remember? From the moment I first captured you at Storm’s end, until your very last. You are meant to be mine, so you will be.’’ He promises you. He is calm and collected about it as if is stating a fact.

He reminds you of the day when this all started. You don’t want to think back of that day. You tell yourself it is because of Luc, who Aemond fed to his dragon. But it is because of Aegon. You miss Luc, of course, but that wound had time to heal. Aegon’s loss is so sudden and just as painful, but fresh. ‘’I am not yours, you monster!’’ You raise your hand, striking Aemond on his scarred cheek.

He finally acts, grabbing your hands tighter and dragging you close until your noses touch. He is trembling with fury and his one eye is full of hatred, lust, obsession and cold blooded plans. ‘’Striking your king, is a act of treason.’’ He chuckles. ‘’I am allowed to punish you. I could take your hand for this, little lady strong.’’ You huff.

You roll your eyes even. Aemond hates the silent treatment more than any insult you could have hurled at him. Instead of making it clear what he intends, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder, marching you back to the empty throne. You kick and slap his back, trying to break free of his iron grip. He places you in the hands of a nearby guard, who all have been silent on this treatment of their rightful princess. Aemond sits on the iron throne and what he does next shocks you.

He grabs you by your hips, bending you over both his knees, as if you don’t weigh anything. He pets your hair lovingly and even gives your shaking body a kiss. ‘’I do this because I love you. You are in luck. You will always be able to defy me.’’ He whispers. ‘’All men who do so will meet horrible ends that Maesters will write about for centuries, but you, my special girl, you will be able to defy, rebel and upset me.’’ He whispers. ‘’Because I enjoy punishing you. And I bet you enjoy being punished.’’ You feel his hands on your butt, as he starts finding the beginning of your gown. You hear the sound of fabric ripping, and panic, bolting on his lap. He simply holds you down tighter, smirking as you begin to whimper. He calmly hums and with one brutal movement, rips your skirts. You remain on his lap, vulnerable and in your small clothes. Aemond sits up straighter, as if he wants to fully take in this view. Embarrassed, you lower your head in his lap, allowing him to caress your hair once more. ‘’Such a beautiful girl. You were wasted on my brother.’’ He speaks. ‘’You belong with me. You always have.’’ He then turns to his guards. ‘’Leave me and the Princess. She will pledge her loyalty to me in a private event.’’ You whimper as you hear iron footsteps leave the room.

When he is alone with you, he pulls your small clothes down fully, yanking them until your ankles, exposing you for all you are. It seems to awaken a certain hunger or desire in him, and he rips your corset and sleeves next. He fully admires your naked body, panting as he looks at you. He seems to calm down and finally he does what he promised. He hits you on your ass, spanking it harshly. You hiss in pain, in disbelief that he is subjecting you to this. ‘’Aemond, stop this.’’ You beg.

‘’You have no right.’’

He scoffs. ‘’I have every right. I am the King now. You were naughty, today. I don’t like naughty girls. Well, not as much as I like a good girl.’’ He says, talking to you as if you are a stupid little girl. Fresh tears fall. ‘’I like naughty good girls, who know what they want. But you aren’t there yet. You aren’t broken enough yet.’’ He says, joyfully as he spanks you. You give soft whimpers.

The spankings only become harsh when you remain silent, so you fake moans and whimpers to please Aemond’s dark desires. He sometimes groans too, as he sees how much damage your body is taking thanks to him, and how you take it.

“Aegon told me something before he died. He told me he never consummated the marriage. Is that true?” You wonder why Aegon told him that.

But it is the truth. You nod. “He knew when we first were forced to lay together I didn't want it.”

Aemond only chuckles to that comment, dealing another hurtful smack, almost as if to punish you for still loving his brother. “He raped plenty of women. I suppose you weren't special enough to make the effort.”

“Aegon loved me.” You argue, and you regret it the moment you’ve said it. Because Aemond slaps so hard that your flesh burns.

He groans now not of arousal but of pure hatred. “He didn't.”

“There's one man for you in this entire world.” You huff at his words.

You are grabbed by the throat, lifted from his lap and forced to stand as he chokes you. You are choked, tears stinging your eyes as he looks at you with the crown slightly slipping from his hairs and his one eye bigger than usual, focused on you, the object of his obsession. You fight for control but lose the fight. “It is me.” He reveals.

“No,’ You croak out weakly. “I can't. You killed my brother-”

He sighs, almost enjoying the view. His cold fingers finger one of your nipples, enjoying the reaction your body gives by hardening for him. He chuckles. “Such a beauty. Now. Defy me again.” You shake your head. He sighs, putting you over his knee again. You whimper against the cruel treatment, feeling the spot he struck. Aemond smirks, challenging you to speak out again. “I ought to keep you around like this. Just as the gods intended you to be. Pure, naked, unspoiled…” He feels the skin he struck. And you feel yourself clench your cunt, ignoring the waterfall he caused down there with all cost. It is true, Aemond is a handsome man. But this is wrong, isn’t it?

“May I please dress?” You ask, wiggling on his lap, enjoying when his thigh briefly rubs your cunt. That hits the spot.

The King laughs. “Such an obedient girl for asking me first.”

“The answer is no, however. You struck me, remember? That is treason.” You are embarrassed to speak. He laughs at that, rubbing your legs, drawing circles and kissing your skin. You ignore the butterflies. You can’t.

‘’Stand.’’ He barks suddenly. You obey, standing on your shaking legs, exposing yourself now fully to him. He leans back in the throne, grinning brightly as he takes in your body, toe to head. ‘’You can defy me as many times as you like. I will gladly put you on my lap and spank you.’’ He whispers. ‘’But if you say something regarding the whore that mothered you, I’m afraid we must do a different type of punishment. Am I clear?’’ You nod, hating how frightened you are.

He softens his face. He beckons you closer. You come closer until you stand in front of throne, your cunt barely touching the iron. ‘’I wish to feel your wares. I must see myself, If you and Aegon kept your word.’’ Without a warning, his fingers sink inside your wetness, inspecting you as you stand on your legs, almost falling over.

‘’Please, make me sit.’’ You beg.

He grins, forcing his finger to go deeper, penetrating you at the right speed. “No, you'll stand, tall and proud. I bet this is just what a dirty bastard like yourself likes. ‘’ It takes a while but sadly, he discovers what is happening. ‘’Oh, just as I suspected. A wet, warm and wonderful little place for my seed to crawl inside of.” You wail at those words, aroused as he fucks slowly, taunting you with his fingers.

“Stop talking as if we are going to -” Your talking is interrupted by a smack on your cunt by his free haunt, causing you to cry out in pain and anticipation.

He glares at you, shaking you as if you aren’t awake yet.

“As if? You think I'd kept you as a pretty cup bearer or something? I plan to make good use of you. Every hole is stuffed, until you can't even crawl forward.” He promises.

“What if I will have a child?” you whisper. ‘’That would complicate your status.’’

He sees that differently, mad with lust and obsession.

“That is part of the fantasy. Breeding you makes me happy. Seeing your belly swell makes me happy. You know why?” He asks, softly patting your belly. You shake your head.

“No.”

He leans in, gesturing vaguely down to his legs.

“It proves my seed is strong, powerful and well. It proves I have the power to make you, a stunning powerful princess to a good for nothing whore, carrying a bastard inside of her womb.” You sniffle, hurt and insulted. “Judging your wet and warm cunt, you have been thinking about me too. Why don't you admit that you want this?”

“Because I loved him. I loved Aegon. That means something to me.”

Aemond growls. “Shame he didn't love you. You know it deep down. He didn't mention you at all when he died-” You push him off you, taking off to the doors, not caring he ripped your gown or your poking breasts begging for touch.

“Where do you think you'll be going?” He demands, his voice booming.

You raise your head as much as a princess and dignity as you can. “To my quarters until you decide to trade me for peace.”

“Peace?” He laughs. Then that laugh dies. “Peace!’ It scares you how quickly it became an almost command. “You have exactly 3 seconds to get over here and to kneel at my feet and to beg me for forgiveness-” You don’t let him finish and take off running. But he is faster.

He simply drags you back by your hair, giving your behind hurtful smacks as he drags you to the throne. ‘’Ungrateful bastard. I can make you my queen.’’ He growls. ‘’Why won’t you accept that you want this? Look how wet you are for me.’’ He thinks as you remain at his feet, sitting there as a dog. ‘’I know something. We must train you, to ensure you are a proper pet.’’ He grins. One of the servants is allowed in, to bring Aemond a piece of rope.

You are worried he is going to tie your hands. But his plans are far worse. He ties the end around your neck, and holds it, as a leash. “Such a stubborn girl.” He chuckles. ‘’Now if you try to run, you’ll feel it.’’

“Please untie my neck.” You whisper, softly.

“Why? You can't behave, clearly. I must make the rules clear somehow.”

He has gone insane.

“Untie my neck, I'm worried I'll choke.”

“You know, when the right person is doing it, choking, taking control of another person's breath, nay, life, can feel…amazing.”

In response you spit at him.

“Spitting at me, you are a vile dirty minded thing, are you not? I bet you just ache for someone to pin you down against the floor and to have his wicked way with you. Don't you, bastard?” He growls, handling you.

“I want Aegon…” You whisper, half a beg and half a prayer.

He almost slams your head against the throne in pure rage. You can tell he is close to losing it. “Why? Why do you want that disgusting raper. You have me. You have all you will ever need.” He says. Then he sniffs your breasts, his long nose and hair disappearing between your breasts. “Fuck, you smell so good. So inviting. I can smell that needy cunny of yours.”

He stands up, keeping the leash in his dominate hand. ‘’I bet if I took my cock out you’d be fucking it before I could even ask you to.’’ He grins. ‘’You are your mother’s daughter after all.’’ To prove his point he lowers his trousers, revealing his manhood to you.

You are caught off guard. You never saw one before and it looks so strange yet familiar. “Look down.” He pushes your head down so you can properly.

It is red and swollen and evil in all ways. You try to glance at Aemond but your eyes are almost glued to his manhood. He snickers amused at your virginal response. “You'd like to feel this down your legs, little bastard?” He asks, and you are shocked when his fingers find your entrance once more, and now your soaked little cunt can’t even handle this. You moan, crying of shame and desire.

Aemond grins, taking it as a sign of encouragement.

“Get on your knees.” you obey, eying his cock. You wonder if it’ll hurt. But part of you wants to just feel good and happy for a moment. “On all fours.” He adds, groaning in frustration.

“What is expected of me?” You whisper soft as you kneel for him in the throne room. Aemond finally leaves his throne, so he may join you.

Silence. “I can't…I'm a princess. My virtue is everything to me-”

He laughs. “I can't wait to fuck you, so you for once and for all will shut up about your prestige and your privileges. You will learn, my sweet that I decide what your worth is now. Now, I am going to ask.”

You shake as his fingers brutally Bury themselves in your untouched tight cunt. “Do you want me to be the bad man today, little Maella? Do you wish to get your cunny raided by me, here, in the throne room, on your knees, as a little dirty harlot?’ You fall to your knees, crying out as the penetrating reaches a hight, as does your pleasure. You touched yourself but never like this. Not like he does. And his dirty naughty talk..

“Do you want to feel my cock take root and to feel me penetrate away at your innocent soft rings as they wrap and tighten around my cock as I take you on the stones, your knees bloody and your vision blurry as I bring you close?’

“Do you want that?”

You begin to doubt and he knows it. So he softens his voice, for show. “It can feel so good, Maella. You know I've won. You know it. You are already naked. You are already kneeling. All I need to do is put my cock……” He parts your legs. He rubs your needy cunt causing friction as you frustrated cry out. “here…’’

You nod pleasure winning. ‘Yes.’’ You say, consenting at last. He does not need long. He drags his finger nails in your hips, bringing you closer to his front. He sits on both his knees, as he slams inside of you, fucking you with a brutal war cry. You gasp as the cock pierces through your maidenhood, ruining you for any other man. Aemond groans in delight at your gasps, fucking you harder for every bit of sound you make.

“Oh, you're deep…” you mutter, a bit foolish.

He chuckles. “You'll handle me just fine. Any woman is a bit as a frightened stag, wishing to bolt off when a man climbs her. It is his task to smooth her back into submission so the ride may be…pleasant.” You wonder if he enjoys it the way you do. But when you hear his grunts and moans you know he does.

“Just as much of a slut as your mother.” He whispers and quickly gives you a kiss to avoid your anger. “Taking it all so well. You're a natural love.”

The fucking reaches a height your innocent body cannot handle, as Aemond comes closer to, and the fucking becomes violent, with him choking you as well now. “Meant and made to be on your knees, cock deep inside of your cunt and getting fucked until you can't crawl out of your bed tomorrow.” You gasp, your cries and soft moans filling the throne room, high on pleasure. “Agree.” He hisses, suddenly. For someone who claims not the care about others, he sure seeks a lot of approval.

You know you must obey. You know it deep down. So you swallow your pride. “Y-yes Aemond.” You say, obediently.

He spits at that idea. “You will call me King Aemond or your Grace.’’ He smacks your ass, sinking a finger deep there too. You buck your hips to him, eager for more.

You need to feel good, more than anything, you need to feel alive. ‘’Aemond, your grace, please..”

That pleases him greatly. “So fast, little girl? This is just the tip of the mountain, dear. There is so much more for you left.” He promises, planting dark desires in your head.

“There is?”

He nods. “Hmm,” He smacks your butt in a playful manner. “This is fun, but this is not the way a baby is made. I must stuff you properly for that. And there's your face…” You turn to face him, cock slightly sliding out of you in the process.

“What of it?” You ask, worried there is something stuck between your teeth.

You aren’t prepared for the answer. “It looks so clean. A nice, white and shimmering substance would look amazing on it. Something like my cum?”

“O, I don't know…” you stutter, foolishly.

You do know. But you won’t tell him that. “That is the beauty of your new life. You no longer need to know. I do. I'd love to see your cunt, breasts, belly, cheeks, chin, butt and hole covered in my cum.” He confesses. It is taking so long.

So you buck your hips to his front, hoping he mounts you soon once more. Aemond merely watches, grinning. “Taking me now, aren't we?”

“I do what you want. Just…give me…” You are at the breaking point. You are close.

Aemond slams inside of you, fucking you up and down the tiles as you scream it out in pleasure and he hisses, likely near too. “This?”

You roar in approval as pleasure explodes and you cry out in a soft voice. Aemond can be heard chuckling. “That's it, beauty. You keep being good, and I'll give you that and more.”

“Please, my King…” you whimper. “I can't…I can't handle it anymore. I need to ..I need it now.”

The King laughs, enjoying your suffering and your pleasure.

“Such a demanding little brat, demanding to come before your king.” The Spanking you get now is not punishment. It brings you pleasure and therefor shame. You nearly whimpered at it, but at the same time you enjoyed the smack on your naked ass.

And he bows your head down, and gives you the one after the other hard rough trust that only raises your pleasure. As the fucking increases, your needs reach a height unfamiliar to you and you stop, waiting for it to fade as you usual do when you touch yourself. Aemond sees this as the moment to strike, fully claiming you with a rough war cry and a trust. You fall down from your pleasure and come, all over his red swollen cock as he rides his own orgasm out on your spent body. The King is not happy yet, and fucks your body two more times after you are done with it.

When he is done, he finally removes the rope. You sit up, watching the tiles you fucked upon, sweaty and stained with your blood. Aemond cheekily grins, dressing himself again quickly. You look around for anything to cover yourself with. He throws his leather bloodied coat your way. ‘’Here. Cover. I don’t wish you to catch a cold.’’ He says. You think back of Aegon. And guilt washes over you.

The door is opened and a soldier rushes inside the room. You attempt to cover yourself but it is too late. ‘’My king.’’ He begins but Aemond does not allow him to finish.

‘’You saw my lady naked.’’ He says, instead of listening to his trusted soldier. The soldier blinks.

‘’I,I didn’t!”’ He quickly blurts out. Aemond does not even bother to explain his motivates, you can only watch as he takes his sword and chops of the head of the soldier. Blood and flesh come free as treat and paint painting the Throne room. You are horrified that Aemond murdered a man for looking at you.

You scream in horror. Aemond walks to you next, sword still dripping with blood. He levels the sword at his lips and takes a lick, before kissing your forehead. ‘’He had to die. Only one eye may look at your body. Mine.’’ He says, kissing you again as if it calms you down. It only makes you panic.

He sighs, taking you back to the throne. He makes you sit but this time there’s no spanking. Only sweet kisses and heartbroken mutters. ‘’What can I ever do to compare to Aegon? I want your love, my love. I want you to weep over my dead corpse.’’ He whispers. ‘’I want you when we marry, to become so madly in love with me, that when they find my corpse on the battlefield, you become mad and consumed with grief and you carve off one of my fingers to keep it close to you and you never think of a marrying another. I want you to die from a broken heart.’’ He whispers. ‘’I offer you the world, my love. It is ours. From Westeros to Essos and from the Dothraki grass sea to the useless kingdom of Dorne. It will fall at our feet, crumbled into dust. Thousands will die at our command, and their bones will become your crown and throne. Their blood will be your gown and their flesh will feed our love. Whoever offends you, shall die first. Let me be your King, and you will never need anyone else again.’’ You know you don’t have a choice. Once you cared about innocents. But you don’t have the luxury to care about them anymore. You must survive.

You play along for now.

Be Aemond’s Queen.

His second in command, the mother of his children, his lover and his bedmate.

To him you will be bow…

At least for now.

One of the days soon coming…

You’re going to take that boy’s crown.

//Not even therapy can fix this im afraid.

108 notes · View notes

bucknastysbabe · 1 month

Note

would you pls write canon criston smut? i love your criston fics!!

YES I WOULD LOVE TO!!!! Always brings me joy when people request pookie💘 a short lil fun one

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Blowjobs, infidelity, Criston’s residual guilt, marchers w benefits, wee subby space, Unwin Peake’s daughter, wet and sensual, he’s a soft baby truly, she just likes to please, caretaking

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @aemondsbabe @aemonds-holy-milk @rafeism @valeskafics @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @fairysluna @sugarpoppss2

Pleasing You - Ser Criston Cole x Peake!Reader

“Today, I feel like pleasing you, more than before. Today, I know what I wanna do, but I don't know what for.” -Today, Jefferson Airplane

They always seemed to meet in the Sept, the Lord Commander noted. He saw the woman in the orange and black of Starpike. He faintly remembered her as a girl when House Dondarrion paid a visit to their fellow Marcher Lords. She held a darkened countenance like Lord Unwin.

“Who are you praying for today, Ser Cole?” Lady Peake asked. Her eyes flashed as one of the streams of crystalline light caught her features. Criston eyed the fellow marcher, a discarded Lady-In-Waiting for Helaena with nowhere to go. She clasped her hands, kneeling in front of the Father.

“I pray for my father. He is marching with Lord Hightower as we speak.”

Criston hummed, “Lord Unwin is a powerful man, I shall spare a prayer for him. I pray to the warrior today, for all the men fighting for our cause, and for my own protection. We leave for Harrenhal soon.”

She made a noise, returning to the silence in the castle Sept. Criston did the same, focusing on his devotions. Poorly ignoring Lady Peake so gracefully whispering words of praise. The man closed his eyes tighter, hands clasping to the point his gloves creaked. He knew he was wound up tighter than a drawn crossbow.

Warm hands slid across his plated shoulders, a familiar scent at Ser Cole’s neck. Lady Peake purred, “Lord Hand, Commander, Ser— whatever Cole,” she thumbed at the tight cords of muscle at his neck.

“I know you need to rest. Care for some company and mayhaps a knead out of this horrid knot?” Criston groaned as her slender fingers circled around the bunched muscle.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” he croaked.

They made a quick route up to the Hand’s quarters, Criston eyeing around, tense and jumpy. He noticed Peake was cool as ever, her quiet disposition the same, a resolute firmness to her being. The marcher needed that. It’s what their shared culture was all about. War, strength, and duty to protect. You must appear brave even in the face of fear.

As they climbed the stairs she tugged his cloak and asked “This must be heavy, you poor thing.” Criston snipped back, “I’ve been wearing this for twenty-odd years, I believe I’m fine Lady Peake.” Her laugh was raspy and playful, something nice in these dreary days. He rationalized his feelings for her as desperation from stress. Simply a transaction.

She stopped him in the center of the room, nimble hands undoing his armor. Peake commented, “If it makes you feel better, I used to do this to my husband all the time. So we share equal guilt. Lucas marches along with the host from the south.”

Criston’s eyes followed her, mouth working around a thought. She placed his gorget, pauldrons, and chest plate on the gilded rack. The fellow marcher sighed, “I can see you know how to undress a knight. Why even please me?”

She looked up with a blank expression, taking off gauntlets. Lady Peake replied, “I don’t know, I just want to. Does it bring you anguish for me to pleasure you?” Criston shook his head, fingers snapping at his padded tunic. She batted off Criston’s hands and redirected his ass to perch on the desk. Otto’s desk. Lyonel’s desk. He swallowed down more guilt, caressing her cheek.

“You beat yourself harder than any man I’ve seen you knock into the ground, you know,” she commented idly. His tunic was open now, only tan breeches and a loose shirt remained. Criston’s cock strained at the fabric, leaving a wet spot. He was a pathetic whore, leaking at simple touches.

“Criston,” she snapped.

“Sorry, I,” he stammered.

“Go sit in the chair sweetheart. Unlace your breeches.”

He followed her orders dutifully, shucking his shirt off, pants coming down to his ankles. Criston hissed at the cold air hitting his flushed cock, the member hitting his taught belly. Lady Peake smirked down at him, pulling the laces of her dress free, ample tits spilling out. He choked on a whine, cock throbbing once more. She dropped to her knees, soft lips kissing at his sore thighs.

Criston tried to relax his muscles, give in to her offered pleasure. He softened his stomach, neck, shoulders, and even his persistent tight jaw. She murmured against his groin, “There we go, relax for me.” Criston nodded slowly, rumbling, “I’m trying, pretty girl, I’m trying.”

Her lips pressed a lush kiss to his sensitive skin, trailing up to his hip. Criston eyed her tits, he wished to fuck them later, maybe she would let him. He inhaled sharply when she mouthed at the base of his cock, long lashes fluttering. The woman’s hand came up to gently roll his sac around, nice and snug and warm.

He groaned, eyelids falling shut as she purred for him to relax a little more. Her hot tongue laved around the length of his cock, suckling gentle and sweet at a twitching vein. His hands fought to grip the chair but laid limp, the word ‘relax’ repeating over and over and over. He whined softly, lips falling open.

The marcher woman enveloped the ruddy tip of his cock with her mouth, hollowing and sucking at the same slow pace. She’d dig her tongue in little circles around the tip, Criston moaning her name. She drooled on purpose, slicking him up luridly. Yet the way Lady Peake behaved it was as if she were merely lending a helping hand, a kind word or act. Not sucking his cock like a trained whore.

Another whine burst from the knight’s throat as she eased him down her throat, breathing roughly through her nose. The hand cupping his balls squeezed a hair, her silky wet throat enveloped around him. She swallowed in pulses, scrambling coherency for Criston besides becoming a moaning and rambling mess.

She bobbed her head, tight throat pulling on his sensitive extra skin. Lady Peake moaned around his length, squirming and rubbing her tits up against his legs. All while taking him deep and sensual, like they had all the time in the world. The knight garbled, “L-let me, can I, y-your hair?”

“Mhmmm,” she hummed, the vibrations eliciting a low moan of pleasure. She felt so good— molding his ever twirling mind into soft clay. Mush. He carefully leaned forward, one of his hands carding into her locks, the other reaching for her breast. Criston stuttered on his compliment, balls aching.

Her nose prickled at his pubes, dark eyes hazy with pleasure. She swallowed him down repeatedly, a lazy way in which she chose the pace. Criston couldn’t jerk her around, he mindlessly pet her hair and made pathetic noises, a heat building low in his belly. It was hotter than the dragon flames he’d seen, curling and smoking.

“Oh- oh gods, pretty girl,” he gasped, cock twitching.

She hooked fingers behind his tightening balls, massaging his taint. He cried out, the heat licking up Criston’s spine now. His dark head was thrown back, throat bobbing as he drew out her name. The sweetest agony. So slow yet powerful. The tension was melting from his body, the Lord Commander drooling and downright squirming as he oozed down her throat.

“Don’t stop, s’close, yes, good baby,” he slurred.

She didn’t.

It felt like ages before she was bobbing at s rapid pace, slender digits pumping his sweet spot. Criston shivered, sweating all over and unable to speak. The fire was consuming him as he gripped her hair, whining and pleading. The band would snap soon, plunging him into white-hot ecstasy.

“Closecloseclose, seven hells,” he grunted, cock unloading into her swollen lips. He cried, gasping for air between whines as he spurt down her tight throat. All while she swallowed and moaned, nipples hard and tight for him. She pulled off, swallowing once more as she wiped her mouth, grabbing a discarded rag to wipe him off. Lady Peake rasped, “Sound so good, feeling better? I have that massage for you now.”

Criston babbled, “Yes, yes, you’re too good. Lovely. Jus- let me gather, hngh, my wits.

#ser criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #criston cole x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #criston cole imagine

82 notes · View notes

totallynotlx · 7 months

Text

Take me with you

A/N: I dunno why I wrote this. I dunno if this is supposed to make me feel better or worse but hey, I just wanted to let this out lmao. Also I'm still working on that other fic and that's where I'll be coping hard so enjoy this one (or not asdfkjasd) for now

Tags: Death, Greiving, Coping, JJK spoilers, not proofread so there's that

Word Count: 753

All you see is an empty corridor devoid of any pop of color. All you hear is the soft tap of your shoes against polished wood. The numbness is there, yet you seem to feel everything simultaneously. Your heart felt like it was breaking with each step as if you were trampling over it. You suppress the urge to claw at your chest like it will ease your anxiety. The usual hallway you would pass by every day without any thought felt like it stretched on forever today. You take a right instead of going straight to the classrooms today. This is also different from your daily routine. You continue on your lonely journey through the quiet hallways and reach the end of the hall, where a staircase leads you to the basement where Shoko's lab is located.

With each descent you make, you can feel your resolve crumbling away. Death wasn't a new concept to you, not when you were in the Jujutsu world. Death is a concept that visits every once in a while. It's not a welcome one, but a common picture nonetheless.

You round the corner and see the usual silhouette in the lab coat. Shoko's head was downcast, looking at a lifeless figure on the table. You catch a glimpse of a familiar large hand and take a sharp inhale of breath before steeling your emotions.

"Shoko." Your voice came out like a mere whisper. The woman's shoulder tenses up before turning to you.

"Y/N." She says in acknowledgment of your presence.

"Am I... Is he..." Your words were stuck at the back of your throat. They won't come out. "I'm sorry, I can't—"

"It's alright." She says but shakes her head almost immediately. Yeah, nothing is alright. "I'll be upstairs if you need me." She says as she taps your shoulder lightly. Without her blocking the view, you turn away from the lifeless figure before you. You nod silently, and she makes her way up, leaving you in the cold and silent room.

Inhale. Exhale.

You prepare to face him, slowly turning your head and seeing his hand in your peripheral vision again, only to turn away. You lean an arm against the table where the inanimate body lies silently.

"I can't do this." You plead to nobody in particular, turning your head to the ceiling, focusing your eyes on the light, and fighting against the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Your breathing hitches, and you slowly reach out a hand towards the hand that lay dormant on the table. It was cold. The usual warm hand that traced circles on the back of your hand was cold. Your other hand reaches to your chest and scrunches the shirt you wore like the movement can stop your heart from hurting. A silent cry escapes your lips as you hold his hand in yours. He usually returns the favor by pulling your hand towards his lips and kissing the back of your hand with a smile, but it is absent now. Your eyes trail over his hand, up to his arms, before finally settling down on his face.

Eyes closed. Body eerily still. His disheveled, blood-soaked hair drooped over his eyelids. He was still the same Satoru you remembered. The strongest, the best, but now he lay here lifeless. You take note of the wounds that covered his body, and even though a white blanket was draped over his body, you could see the gap near his waist.

He's gone.

The fact hit you like a train. The thought alone made you lose control over your emotions. You wailed, letting out a deep-seated cry from within your soul as you threw yourself over to his chest, stone-cold and unmoving.

"Satoru," you whispered his name like a prayer, "Satoru, I can't do this." You tell him as you cup his face with both hands. "At least take me with you, damn it." You chuckle, but there is no life in it. He'd probably chide you if he heard you say that, but you were only met with silence.

"You said you'd come back to me," you scream, "you said you'd win!" You continued to cry as you clung to him for dear life. "Satoru, please..."

Your voice trailed off, and as the room was filled with your cries, you were only met with more silence. You knew Satoru would like you to continue living for his sake, too, but is a life without him worth living?

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst #my prompts #gojo my beloved i hope u rest well （；´д｀）ゞ #the title is just me being dramatic #also came from a joke where i told my friends that if this man goes ill go with him lmaoooo #﹒⭔﹒take me with you﹒✿

147 notes · View notes

saiyanprincessswanie · 7 months

Text

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You are haunted by nightmares

Warnings: Nightmares, Angst, mention of past and future deaths. No happy ending.

Word Count: 561

A/N: This is my first fic in 3 months. Please be kind with reviews.

Also thank you to my beta readers @nekoannie-chan @lfnr-blog-blog-blog @geekygee01

In and out, rapid breaths.

You woke suddenly from your sleep. Tears falling from your eyes, gasping for air as a chill clings to your body. The same nightmare plagued your mind once again leaving you feeling alone in the dark. But you weren’t alone as you felt a body shift behind you. He always seemed to know when the demons in your mind were causing you trouble.

“Sweetheart, just breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it keep it slow”, Steve says as a comforting arm wraps around you. The tears still fall as you try to control your breathing.

In and out, slow deep breaths.

You were at the point of a breakdown over the horrors you dreamt of. Images danced in your head of all the death and destruction you saw when Thanos came to earth. Screams echoed in your head as people were lost. There was nothing you could do to fix it. No matter how hard you fought, death surrounded you. You felt you had blood on your hands, no it wasn’t blood but dust of those who were lost.

In and out, slow deep breaths.

His warm, firm hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as you let out a deep sigh. You knew Steve struggled as well and had his own nightmares. Those of seeing Bucky die in front of him yet again haunts him daily. But Steve doesn’t say anything about it. Steve is here comforting you, trying to soothe your soul. He could easily kick you out of his bed over these nightmares but he stands firm you’re not going anywhere. Steve is your light in the darkness.

Your head leans back onto his shoulder and he kisses you softly on your forehead. The chill is now gone, chased by his warmth. Your breathing is slowing down as the screams in your head disappear.

Your heart clenches in your chest, this is unconditional love. You and Steve have been together for many years now. The man out of time who needed a friend and confidant. You can recall all the nights he needed you and now he is here with you.

In and out, slow deep breaths.

Your mind starts to slow down and you embrace your lover. Things were going to get better. Tomorrow your mission is to reverse the snap and bring everyone back. It had to work, this is what you’ve been training and planning for. Whatever it takes is the mantra everyone repeats like a prayer. Your friends will all be back. This has to work.

In and out, slow deep breaths.

You lay back down on the bed cuddled up with Steve. He whispers encouraging words as he continues to rub your back and give light kisses to your face. Steve knows that any sacrifices made tomorrow will help them succeed.

Your breathing is slow and even as you fall asleep in the warmth of his arms. Little do you both know that you won’t see past tomorrow. A sacrifice will be made for the sake of the planet. The one chance that Doctor Strange mentioned will come to fruition. All Steve can do tonight is savor the moments he has right now for you. He won’t be able to save you from the demons this time tomorrow.

In and out, last breath taken

Tag List:

@americasass81

@caffiend-queen

@charmed-asylum

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

@georgiapeach30513

@get0verit

@hollybee8917

@joannie95

@jobean12-blog

@jvanilly

@labella420

@lfnr-blog-blog-blog

@madscape

@mdemontespan1667

@mrsmischief209

@mycrazyasslikestoread

@nekoannie-chan

@notyourtypicalrose

@patzammit

@princessofdarkwinter

@rayofdawnworld

@reneeenders

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@wolfsmom1

@what-is-your-plan-today

@missvelvetsstuff

@jtargaryen18

#missy writes #steve rogers x reader #slow deep breaths #angst #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction

136 notes · View notes

twig-tea · 9 months

Text

9 People You'd Like To Know More

Tagged by @waitmyturtles & @thewayofsubtext TY friends!

Last song:

youtube

Currently watching: I....don't judge me ok:

Be Mine Superstar [I've been quiet on this because I'm really disliking it; I do think this role suits Ja and First is doing a good job too. But everyone in this show is just so manipulative and the fan-to-lover premise really bothers me]

Be My Favorite [everyone knows how obsessed on this one I am lol]

Dinosaur Love [I am watching this one like a car crash]

Hidden Agenda [cute! Not sure what it's trying to say yet, but the cuteness and open communication and chemistry is carrying me through]

Jun and Jun [I was really hoping for a mutual pining story but todays' ep says I might be wrong; sus of the second lead and now there's a third?! Not sure about this one either tbh]

Laws of Attraction [my favourite viewing experience right now. Every moment is a delight!]

Low Frequency [pretty but pacing, editing, and camerawork is stilted and slow, and the writing isn't great]

Minato's Laundromat S2 [here for plots in which the characters work out how to be in relationship! That said it is starting to drag a bit for me now]

Show Me Love [GL, rerun; very low drama plot, cute fluff]

Stay By My Side [this one was slow to start (you could skip ep 1 and 2 and miss nothing) but is a delight;. Prayer circle for honesty this week]

Stay Still [pretty but a bit convoluted. Wrote a post to help anyone trying to start this series. For my happy-ending-only buds, this one has ambiguous/sad ending flags all over it so approach with caution]

Wedding Plan the Series [....it's fine. I can't really get past the premise of extended and unnecessary secret lol but I do appreciate that Nuea was thirsty from jump]

About to start:

My Personal Weatherman

Love Class s2

Only Friends

Marry My Dead Body [film]

Stay With Me [If the rumours are true and it is not censored bromance but an acknowledged relationship, I will binge it--but holding out for actual confirmation]

Just finished:

Sing My Crush / Follow the Wind [this was like a hug in series form]

Tokyo in April Is .../ Shigatsu no Tokyo wa [so good, still thinking about it]

Oh, Mando! [rewatched; messy but enjoyable]

Baggage Claimed [lesbian miniseries; messy lol]

TXT at Lollapalooza concert [I don't self-identify as a kpop person but I do occasionally get up at 4am for kpop concerts? I contain multitudes]

Heartstopper [cute; like the source material, it feels extremely earnest sometimes in an endearing way and sometimes in an off-putting way. I would like it more if this show/comic let these characters make more mistakes, but it's filling a niche]

I also have a backlog of FMVs I'm slowly whittling away at...there's too much media in the world friends!

Currently reading: Tumblr and AO3, who has time for anything else? Just finished "Long Distance" by thingswithwings [Good Omens], and about to catch up on updating the collection of Be My Favorite meta before ep12 drops.

Current obsession: Please see aforementioned Be My Favorite meta, it's been very fun but at this point I need the episode to drop so I can have my brain back please!

Gonna be lazy and tag the same folks again as in the last tag game, as always no pressure! @incandescentflower @ellaspore @marbles290 @tinycowboybro @benkaaoi @williamrikers @formayhem @sorry-bonebag @manogirl

#tag game #thanks for the tag!#9 people you want to know better

6 notes · View notes

onlymingyus · 2 years

Text

Woo! Getting through these asks today. A one-shot request will drop at 6pm EST (fingers crossed, a prayer circle, whatever we need to do so that it lands in tags the first time).

Getting things done today! Also learning that my followers/anons are spicy. 😏

Remember if you haven't seen your ask responded to that doesn't mean it won't be or that I haven't seen it, I am working through them at my pace and I appreciate your patience.

With all this said, if you would like to leave me some new thots or fluffly thoughts about svt (or another group keeping in mind I might answer those or I might not) my box is open.

talk dirty to me

Also Happy Cheol Day! 🍒

#mars.rambles #asks #updates #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #kpop smut #kpop fluff

18 notes · View notes

twinkodium · 8 months

Note

wait omg… i actually think this is kinda scary…. like i just spent 10 minutes on twitter (i rarely ever go on there 🫣 too scary) reading about kimi, i go on tumblr and write about it, then go onto the kimi tag and look at the reblogs on one post – and you’re there? with a reblog from 40 seconds ago?? like what are the odds that you reblogged the one post i looked at + it was right before i went on 😳😳 idk this might make no sense but i thought it was fun shdkshskdjd

either way, hope you get some good sleep, let’s manifest good papaya points for tomorrow 🤭🧡

Everyone on my timeline is fighting about something but I’m just there to collect and enjoy Oscar content so I have no clue what’s going on there 😂

I didn’t see your post in his tag tho 👀 but one post showed up on my dash when quali was on and I saved it to reblog with opinions if I’m free. It is funny and very coincidental too but hey we have similar interests (khmm.. Liam & Oscar) and algorithms are working 👀 I don’t even know why it appeared on my dash tho, I don’t even follow the series he’s racing in.

I seriously need to go to bed, f3 feature is super early and I want to get a good sleep in (considering it’s already 1.30 and it starts around 8.15 I might get a decent sleep hour 🫶🏼).

YES! I need to make a prayers circle and lit candles cut quali wasn’t as smooth as I thought it would be (so ready to kick both of their asses for stressing me out…) but hopefully points are on the table 😌 as far as Oscar gets points and finished ahead of both alpine is a win for me. It means he’ll move ahead of both of them and into the top 10 🥹🥹

Hope work wasn’t too bad for you today and you get a good night sleep too 🫶🏼🧡

#asks #Jackie 🧡#buttercup 🥰#Kimi #honestly it’s so stupid that they even consider to ship a series entirely…#they system is designed by the way it is for reason #hopefully someone talks him out of it #that much of a pressure won’t be beneficial for him in a long run

0 notes

saetoru · 2 years

Note

Rich boy Gojou angst to fluff smut where you guys have been hooking up for a while and one night it almost feels like love and rich boy can't take it anymore and says he wants more 🥲

y’all holding this rich boy gojo over my head :,)

tags: afab! reader, unprotected sex, creampie, porn with plot for once would you look at that

gojo is pretty sure he’s in love with you. he doesn’t have a lot to base it off of, but he thinks this is the feeling if he can put a label on it. and at first, it was just thrilling to chase after you, but soon, it became a dull ache of longing, and now, it’s painful every second he’s not yours.

and you’re so cruel, one second kissing him back like you need him to breathe, letting him slide your clothes off and undressing him too, letting him feel you around him as you breathe out his name like a prayer. he collapses onto his bed, body limp by your side, sweaty and still working through the aftershocks of euphoria, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, you’ll stay for once, and he’ll wake up to you wrapped in his arms like you are when he falls asleep.

but morning comes, and gojo is left with the heavy, gut sinking realization that you’re not here. even the small traces of you are gone. like the scent of your perfume, overpowered by the lingering smell of sex, a reminder that it’s all he’ll ever get from you. the small dips of the sheets from where your body laid are gone too, you’ve smoothed them out before you’ve taken your leave, and it’s almost like you were never there in the first place. the only trace of evidence left of you is the slight swell of his lips, and the scratches on his back, and gojo curls up under his sheets and tries to remember every detail of the night before.

how you moaned his name, how your fingertips danced over the slopes of his muscles, how your walls clamped around him and made his breath choke, how his head felt on your beating chest as he collapsed over your body. there, in those few moments that he grants himself to break, to miss your touch and wonder what about him could seem so repulsive you can’t find just one morning worth staying, he feels the cruelness of reality sink in that he’s only that much more attached to you—and you’ve not changed your mind about him even a little.

and it’s that realization that makes him so much needier today, kissing you like you’ll disappear, hands shaking as they roam over every inch of your skin, breath erratic as he sinks into you and feels your warmth surround him. you squeeze around his stiffened cock, and he chokes on a cry of your name, rutting his hips into you desperately, trying to cling to any feeling of intimacy he can find as he thrusts sloppily into your cunt.

“fuck, satoru,” you gasp, hands finding his hair and tugging at the strands as he slams into you, his swollen tip kissing the spot that makes you see stars, “satoru i’m..” you trail off, eyes closing and mouth agape as he pounds into you, and gojo stares at how pretty you look like this, so overtaken by pleasure.

but he also wonders how pretty you look when you wake up in the morning, when you laugh as you do small, mundane things, when you get excited over something you love, when your eyes soften as they land on him. he doesn’t quite know, but he does have a feeling it’ll make his heart clench if he ever caught sight.

“you close?” he groans, and there’s a soft whine that bubbles from his throat as you angle your hips up, meeting his thrust and making him sink deeper, and he buries his head into your neck to get as close to you as he can. “fuck, i’m—i’m so close,” he chokes.

your nails are digging into his skin, voice mewling his name as his cock drags against your walls, and when his thumb rubs circles on your swollen clit, you dig into his skin a little deeper, and he prays the marks will last a bit longer this time—just so he can hold onto pieces of you a bit more when you’re gone.

“g-gonna cum,” he babbles, “cum with me. please cum with me,” he pants, voice needy and lust hazed as he speaks into your ear, and he doesn’t know if his eyes are watering from the pleasure that runs down his spine, or from the gentleness of your fingers as they card through his hair.

gojo would stave off his high longer if he could, he’d feel the dull ache between his legs for much longer if it meant he’d get to cage your body against his mattress and cradle you in his arms for a few extra moments. a bed as large as his is bound to feel lonely if it’s occupied alone, and he wishes he could find solace in your arms under the sheets.

“you feel so good, toru,” you moan, and he thinks it’s just plain mean you use that nickname, only gracing his ears with the soft tune of your voice singing it when he’s fucking you like this.

“f-fuck,” he rasps, “‘m gonna…’m gonna cum.” and soon, he’s choking on a string of curses as his cock twitches and empties his load into you, thick spurts of cum painting your walls white as he ruts his hips and works himself through his orgasm, and up to your impending one.

his thumb rubs over your clit a few more times, and then he’s feeling the squeeze of your walls spasming around him as you cum, body arching off the mattress as you lean up and pull him into a searing kiss. he drinks in the sounds of your cries, and he wonders if your lips kiss anyone else’s like this, if your walls spasm around anyone else’s cock as they are, if there’s someone else you think staying in the mornings are worth it for.

you both finish with a few choked moans, and his body plops on top of yours. you rub over his sweaty back in slow circles as you both collect your breaths.

he breaks the silence first.

“fallen in love with me yet?” he hums, poking your ribs and making you scowl. you shove his hand away, and he smiles into your neck.

“how do you still have the energy?” you groan quietly. gojo thinks your voice is prettier like this, when it’s breathless and gentle and almost a quiet whisper. it feels like the only person you ever speak to is him when you sound like that.

“you didn’t answer my question,” he insists. “i can keep a secret. you can admit it, it’s okay,” he teases lightly. he wonders how you’d react if you knew it’s more of a plead rather than a joke.

“no,” you roll your eyes. “i value my sanity.” he tries not to let his heart drop too much, tries to convince himself it’s just a part of the banter you share. gojo has never not gotten what he’s wanted, and he’s never not been the one being wanted either.

he wonders why on earth he’d have to fall in love with the one person he can’t have, the one person that doesn’t want to have him.

“i think you’re secretly obsessed with me, hm?”

you snort, pulling the soft sheets of his bed over your bodies as he lays limp on you, pressing more weight when you try to push him off.

“absolutely not, now get off,” you grumble, gently swatting at his shoulder as he clutches onto you tighter, grinning when you huff.

“i’m comfortable this way,” he shrugs.

“your mattress probably costs more than our tuition, i’m sure you’ll be just as comfortable,” you deadpan, and he chuckles, lifting his head and flashing you a grin. you stare into his eyes for a second, and he almost thinks he sees yours soften for a moment—but it’s fleeting, and you look away before he can be too sure. he feels his heart hammer a little with hope, and before he can stop himself, he’s blurting out words he knows he shouldn’t.

he knows he shouldn’t tread this path, but here he is.

“is that why you spend the night? cause you like my mattress?” he quirks a brow, and you sigh exasperatedly, pursing your lips as he slumps back on top of your body. you roll your eyes and brush a few stray strands of hair from his forehead. and once more, there’s a small bit of hope that resonates through his bones at the gesture.

maybe, just perhaps, there’s a small chance you feel the same way.

“might as well make good use of your riches while i’m here,” you quip, and he pouts up at you, fake hurt sketched across his face.

“well, breakfast is good here too,” he mumbles, “you could always stick around for that.”

it’s silent. and for a moment, he regrets opening his mouth. it was probably better to stick with the back and forth teasing, and you’ll probably insist you both go to sleep after this. gojo stares up at you, trying to find any falter of your composure, any cracks in your resolve—but he finds he can’t read you in this moment.

“i wouldn’t want to intrude,” you say slowly. “i’m sure your family—”

“it’d just be the two of us,” he says softly, and you exhale, gently pushing him off to lay next to you, turning your body to look him in the eyes. his arms itch to wrap around your figure.

“gojo,” you sigh.

“satoru,” he corrects, but you pinch your nose in irritation, and he feels small, eyes drifting to stare down at the space in the sheets between your bodies.

“gojo. we can’t keep doing this if you’re going to keep trying to make something out of it,” you spit, and gojo wonders if you can hear his heart crack in his chest, if you can sense the slight sting of his eyes, if you can make out the faint wobble of his lips.

“is that so bad?” he tries to chuckle, face faltering when you look at him unimpressed. “am i so bad?” he asks finally, voice quiet, and this time, you can make out the hurt clearly.

gojo satoru doesn’t get his heart broken. he does the heartbreaking and he’s the one who walks away unscathed. but right now, he feels pretty fucking heartbroken as you stare at him like this is nothing to you.

“you know this will never work—”

“why not?” he finally breaks, voice rising an octave as he stares at you in bewilderment. “why not? you don’t even fucking know that—”

“please don’t yell at me,” you say quietly. he pauses, staring at you for a moment, blinking once, then twice, before he chuckles lowly—but there’s really no humor as the sound vibrates from his chest.

“can you just…can i just know why?” he asks quietly. “i just…i just need to know why,” he mumbles.

“because you can’t have a relationship if you don’t feel something,” you frown, and he props himself onto his elbows, lips curling into a scowl as he stares at you in disbelief.

how could you not see he does feel something.

gojo knows you by heart. he knows your schedule, he knows what spots on campus you love most, he knows your favorite coffee order, he knows your nose crinkles when you read something you don’t understand, he knows you tap your pen on the table when you’re bored, he knows you tend to slap the table gently when you’re laughing hard, he knows you hate when it’s too windy out, he knows you lick your lips when you’re thinking deeply—he knows so, so much more, and he doesn’t understand how else he can show you just how much he feels.

because he does. he feels so much, and he feels like he’ll never be the same if you don’t feel it right back.

“i feel something,” he whispers. “i feel a lot.”

you stare at gojo, eyes dancing on the edge of either disbelief or denial—or maybe both, he’s not too sure. but he knows you’re trying to find truth in his words.

“you just feel frustrated. because i’m not head over heels for you like everyone else—”

“this isn’t about winning you like some damn prize,” he argues, frustration leaking into his voice. you raise a brow, squinting at him like he’s crazy.

“name one thing you feel about me—”

“i feel like everything’s going to be okay when you laugh,” he cuts you off, “and i feel like i’m on top of the world when you call me satoru, and i feel like i’m doing something right when you smile at me, and i feel like i love you when we fall asleep together,” he says all at once. “that’s how i feel about you,” he says firmly.

you stare at him for a moment, take in his words, drink in the sight of his messy hair and defeated face, watch as he fiddles with his fingers and looks so vulnerable for once, and you decide maybe gojo satoru is capable of a lot more than you thought. he’s human—a really obnoxious, frustrating, and very flawed one at that—but deep down, he’s just a guy, and he’s trying his best.

for you.

“that’s…that’s a lot more than one,” you mumble, unsure what else to say.

“there’s a lot more,” he adds quietly, and you stare down at your lap.

and you could keep trying to shield yourself from someone like him, someone who’s been spoiled since before he could walk, someone who’s never been told no, someone who’s never been forgotten. but you could also just give him a chance, find out what he likes and what he dreams about, find out what his favorite movie is and what music he listens to, find out the stupid habits he has and what his biggest fears are.

you could look past gojo and take a glimpse at satoru—just like he’s always been asking you to do, all this time.

“oh yeah?” you ask gently, scooting closer. he hesitantly lays back down, shuffling closer until you’re both laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, arms brushing against each other.

“yeah,” he murmurs.

“well, are you gonna tell me them?”

“that depends,” he glances at you from the corner of his eyes, “are you gonna give me a chance to?”

“maybe i’ll hear about the rest over breakfast,” you offer softly, grabbing his hand and brushing your thumb over his knuckles. satoru squeezes your hand as if to silently say thank you.

“i make pretty good breakfast,” he says with a goofy little grin, and he couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice if he tried. you giggle quietly, shifting to lay your head on his chest, and his arm curls around your body instantly. he notices how perfectly you fit against him, and you notice how fast his heart is beating.

“can’t wait,” you yawn, and the last thing you feel before drifting off to sleep is the gentle press of satoru’s lips on your forehead, and a quiet me either that he mumbles into the skin.

this was supposed to be a short drabble but it’s 2.5k words but it’s okay nakdkakjd

7K notes · View notes

chiwhorei · 3 years

Text

the folly of man

pairing: e. todoroki x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.6k

tags: the softest!enji there ever was, crybabie!reader, age gap (20ish vs. 50), d/s dynamics, belly bulge, squirting, overstim, daddy kink, size kink, dacryphilia, a spank, breeding kink, creampie, i am dramatic and clinically melancholy so it’s a little angsty but it’s really just unabashed, self-indulgent fluff

a/n: i screamed about soft!enji to @messwriting a few weeks ago, then the other night enji took me to paris and wrecked my shit in my dreams. the result? complete self-indulgence. i will not be taking criticism on my desire to fuck this man, he is a drawing. (the banner image is from the lonely doll by dare wright, if you know this book we probably have very similar issues sksksksksk)

hymn: angel by finneas

“Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss,” ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost

He swears it’s your quirk that got him. Grabbed him by the collar, stole his soul from his chest— you swiped it right from his rib cage.

You sit across from him, legs folded under each other and pen pressing against your lips. Is it your lips? Or the way words curl past them?

A siren’s call in the form of a 20-something journalist. He hates the likes— prodding for sound bites and snippets to plaster across front pages. But your figure buckles in on itself, nerves weighing down the fabric of a light pink blouse and tight-yet-tasteful pencil skirt. Your presence is gentle and honeyed, it feels warm where Enji is usually burning hot.

Your fever spreads across his cheeks and nose.

“I’m sorry, sir, did you need me to repeat the question?”

Your bottom lip trembles nervously, pulled in between your teeth to gnaw on. Freshly graduated and on your very first assignment, it seemed hilarious to send the newly minted recruit into a white-hot tongue lashing.

“Mr. Number One has chewed the head off of every reporter in Japan, it’s a right of passage.”

The echo of your colleague’s stifled laugh rings in your ear as you stare back, you scan over the small wrinkles by his eyes and the jagged scar across his face. The silvered skin curves around his features like atonement. There’s something about the prolific hero that seems to pull you towards him. You grab the side of your chair so as to not fall forward right into his orbit.

Any attempt at distance was doomed from the beginning.

He shakes his head, eyes darting from either of yours to find the question you asked him. He coughs awkwardly, nodding his head for you to continue. Any desire to snap at you dissolves into the carpet with the very first laugh. You let out a small, tinkling giggle against better judgement that cracks the glassed tension.

“What is your biggest inspiration?”

The question hangs in the air a moment before a rehearsed answer falls from his mouth, something about the citizens of his community and the desire to keep his country safe. Whatever tumbles out is less interesting than how you smile in response.

Every person in the room-- agents, publicists, the poor intern holding a black coffee in his trembling hands-- watch on, collectively agape, at the scene before them.

Flame Hero: Endeavor breaks composure for a moment to send you a docile, lopsided smile.

You decide it’s something you won’t soon get tired of seeing.

“Did you get everything you wanted,” his voice trails off with a hint of uncertainty, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head, “I could answer a few more questions over dinner.”

Enji stands in shock at his own behavior, the inferno flickers little more than a candle in your eyeline. Every minute holds sixty seconds of opportunity, and Enji’s hair is graying at the ends. Even if you brush the dusty old hero from your shoulders with guffaw, even if you roll your eyes or kiss his insole with a pointed heel. He can’t afford to waste a moment more.

It has to be your quirk, he decides, reciting like a prayer the only logical answer to his sweating palms and clambering heart. Nothing makes sense but keeping you within arms reach. It must be some kind of hypnosis, maybe a pheromone.

Enji’s penance lies in the soft, supplied skin of a quirkless civilian.

***

There are few places that have felt like home, no matter what four walls build a house around him. He alone is responsible for each one decaying. He deserves a spot in every plane of hell.

Enji leans against the headboard, scanning over pages of John Milton and enjoying the quiet just after dusk. Looking over the top of his glasses, the book in hand falls out of frame, like most everything does.

Pink lace hangs like bated breath from your shoulders and hips. You look on to him for approval, the set your eyes had lingered on in a boutique window now brandishes the swell of your breasts.

“My perfect girl.” His words are filled with wonder, pulling at the ends of his mouth when you twirl, the ends of flowing lace pick up around you like wings.

Winter air creeps from the open balcony to hit your skin, spreading chills down every inch. Enji watches as you shiver, the cool breeze prickles past pick lace with little effort.

“Come here.” Enji tosses his glasses and book to the bedside table and pats his lap.

Nothing feels more like home than when you settle to lie atop his naked chest, cheek pressed firmly against his pulse.

You rest your chin against his sternum, hands crawling up to find warmth from his skin. He feels the thin, golden ring as your touch trails around his neck.

His own hands, calloused and battered, eclipse over your lower back to find purchase against your ass.

Away from the prying eyes of domestic paparazzi and forty minutes outside of Paris— Enji cuts out what feels like a stolen heaven.

Idle chat about the museum he took you to today fills the room comfortably. Your fingertip comes down to trace the lines of marred skin across the bridge of his nose, he hums and smiles as you talk about paintings.

None stood out to him.

He takes your hand in his much bigger one, kissing the band that mimics his own. You tangle your fingers together.

“This feels like a dream,” your voice is barely above a whisper, lest the night air hears the talk of lovers.

“I’m not totally convinced you aren’t a dream.” Enji pulls you to sit back against his legs, in this position you can meet his eyes without straining upward. Strong hands come down to rest at your hips, thumbs rubbing lightly against the lingerie’s fabric.

You scoff, batting at his chest, you laugh his comments off in moments like this. But Enji is convinced one day you will lift straight from the world with nothing left but your shoes keeping the earth weighted down.

Soft lips ghost over his, an invitation he’ll never refuse. Your mouth is against him, small hands coming to either side of Enji’s face. His graying stubble is coarse under your fingers. You inhale deeply, he smells like campfire and expensive cologne. Your tongue slips between his lips. His mouth tastes like the remnants of the bottle of red wine you shared after dinner

The hands around your middle pull your impossibly closer, pressing into your lower back to grind your hips down against the bulge in his sweatpants. Your body moves against him, panties rubbing against your already throbbing clit.

“Daddy.” The title wraps in chords around his vertebrae, the sounds of whimpering hits his ear, and he notices the wet patch rubbing right against his knee.

“What do you want, princess? Tell daddy what you want.” The maneuvering of your hips starts slow, but Enji has you almost bouncing on his leg before you can answer him. Both of your hands wrap around his left wrist, tugging it in between your legs.

“I want you to touch me, please. I- I need it.” You bite the inside of your cheek when the pads of his fingers graze the damp, thin material of your panties, his burning touch sets every blood cell aflame.

“You’re so wet, princess, what’s got you all worked up?” There’s a gleam of humor in his voice, seeing you desperate for him has Enji stiffening beneath you.

“My precious little thing, I’ll take good care of you.” His words write you a promise, it extends far past a night of love in Paris.

You can feel his assurance carved into your heart.

Enji’s hand dips into the front of your underwear, ghosting over your clit and running against your swollen lips. He marvels at your response, the smallest ministrations have your head rolling to the side.

His pointer and middle finger prod against you, inching inside carefully. Even with the utmost care, you wince at the stretch. No matter how many times he’s fucked you open in this whirlwind year,

“You’re tighter than a fucking vise, Christ.”

A long moan escapes you, knees moving to dig into the mattress below you for leverage to buck against his hand. Enji curls his fingers upwards, calloused tips finding the spongy patch of skin that has you squirming. His fingers cross over each other, pumping into you and easing you to relax against the intrusion.

“Daddy, I want your cock. I’m ready, please.” The heat in your core is rising, licking against your nerves like wildfire. Enji tutts in response to your begging, his thumb coming down to rub taught circles into your clit.

“I know, princess, but you remember the rules. Cum on my fingers, and I’ll give you what you want.” Enji picks up the pace of his fingers, his own patience thinning at the edges with each call for your daddy.

“Close, ‘m close,” your voice wobbles, aching legs pushing you against him, chasing desperately for that first release.

Enji feels you clenching tight in finality, a squeal breaching the steamy space around you. You crack in his tight hold, the taste of bliss coats your tongue-- it tastes like tears.

You slump forward against his chest, coming to float back down to earth before he sends you hurdling back towards the sun.

“You’re so beautiful, princess, absolutely perfect.” Enji’s voice is heavy, lined with a certain bitterness you are familiar with. His compliments always sound like apologies.

You lift your head, forehead pressing against his, the stray hair around your face tickling his skin.

There aren’t words that could heal decades. No amount of atonement, no prayers to any gods will fix a life of despair. He shoulders the blame of it all, heavy against bones and muscle.

Moving to kiss him tenderly, lips pulling him back into the world's sweetest direction. You shouldn’t let him use you as his redemption. If Enji were another man, a better man, he would have walked away from you that fateful afternoon under fluorescent light with just the fleeting feeling you dipped his heart in.

He’s not any kind of good in this world, Enji is a foolish bastard.

He’ll keep kissing you, he’ll touch and lick and fuck you until your wings pick up in the wind and fly you away.

“I want to ride your cock, Daddy. Let me make you feel good too.” You beg for him once again, you beg to be a distraction, the sweetest kind of diversion-- hidden snugly in the quiet of a French villa.

Enji is meticulous with stripping you of the dainty lace, brushing off the straps of your bra so the cups fall right under your pert nipples. He moves his hands slowly, snaking up your sides to swipe his thumbs against the pebbled buds. You don’t try to stop the wines falling like prayer, your body still on edge from your first orgasm.

He pulls off your soaked panties, eyes tracing the strings of slick collecting and breaking off from your glistening cunt.

“Such a precious little pussy, and it’s all mine.” Enji frees his cock from his sweats and boxers, the length springing to slap against his abdomen. He pumps his hand a few times before pressing it against your stomach. It’s no surprise that his size is impressive, long and thick in an ever-intimidating way.

Enji admires how his cock presses against you, tip nudging against your belly button. In comparison to your smaller form, it’s a wonder he hasn’t ripped you in half.

You’d let him.

“No more teasing, Daddy. I need it, please.” Desperation sparks against your nerves, igniting with the sharp sound of Enji’s hand against your ass.

“Don’t get mouthy now, princess.” His warning is light, he’s never been good at denying you.

He pulls your hips up, lining himself up so you can sink down onto him. If his fingers make you whimper, the first breach of his shaft makes you wail.

Your hands find his shoulders, digging in to steady yourself with every deliciously unforgiving inch. You’ll never get used to his size, you never want to.

Enji has held composure with white knuckles, but his resolve is rusting with every movement of your descent. His desire to tear into you becomes untamable, his mind swims in with the velveteen grip you suck him in with.

“You’re mine, fuck, you’re mine forever.” He will promise you until he believes it himself.

He’ll believe in forever if forever means you.

The folly of man is nestled at the apex of your thighs, is pleading gasps, is begging for more, is too much and too little.

And Enji is a fool in love.

The gates of heaven open between your quivering legs to let the devil in. He’ll take every moment he can steal.

As your hips settle down finally, the feeling of being so completely full has tears collecting in your lashes to run down your cheeks. It’s depraved, truly, how beautiful your destruction is.

Enji gives you a moment, adjusting to his size and relaxing, his hand comes down to rub against your stomach, tracing against the skin lightly.

“I can feel it,” his breath hitches, the pulsing around him is dizzying, he feels his tip as it moves inside of you, “fuck, I can feel my cock in your tummy.”

Shaky thighs start moving above him, the bounce of fat and flesh atop his hardened body. He can’t help the declarations flying from his mouth, he can’t stop the itching feeling to make you his completely.

“I want to fuck a baby into you, want to fill you so full.” He can feel the way your body reacts to his most perverse desire, “I want you round and swollen with my child.”

Enji grabs your hips, taking control and quickening the pace of his assault on your weeping pussy. You cry out, a string of babbled, “Please, daddy, please fuck me full, s-so full.”

You can feel your second orgasm bubbling up with each stroke of Enji’s cock against your abused pussy. All words are lost, all thoughts fuzzy aside from the man pounding himself into you from below.

“Cum around me, little girl, cum around my cock.” Enji’s words are little more than a growl, head thrown back into the pillows as you constrict around him. His fingers come down against your clit again, rubbing with fervor. He’s adamant on throwing you head-first, body limp and overstimulated in every way.

You feel it in the gnashing of your teeth, the wound chord snapping like floss around Enji. You feel yourself gushing, your cum leaking around him and dripping onto the bed sheets.

Enji cums with one final buck, hips lifting off of the bed as he spills into you. You can feel the thick spurts against your still pulsating walls, filling you to the brim and trickling out even before you separate.

He stays inside of you for a moment, large hands wrapped around your middle, pulling you to crumble into his chest. You collapse against his warm, jagged skin. He lulls you with soft strokes to your hair, behind the flush and sweat on your face, he sees the dizzy, love-drunk expression tugging on your lips.

No matter how many times you disagree, Enji knows it’s true.

The swelling, disorienting feeling of your smile. The visions of a future, of the life he doesn't deserve but wouldn’t give up for any deal the devil could make him. The sight of you, simply and without motive, every day.

It has to be your quirk.

#endeavor smut #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #enji todoroki x reader #enji smut

3K notes · View notes

blueprint-han · 3 years

Text

come snuggle.

♡ pairing: jisung x reader

♡ genre: marriage au; fluff.

♡ warnings: nothing just tooth rotting fluff.

♡ word count: 1.1 K

♡ type: drabble.

♡ network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz + @sunoo-luvs

♡ credit: this was inspired by one of these ideas. @hanstagrams this is for you <3

↯ note: hhhhhhhhh i’m in soft jisung mood so here have this <3 hope you like it and I could do your idea justice sammie <3 idk why i made a gif header for this i just wanted to and it seemed fitting bshbshsbsh. — dawn.☀️

“Hey honey,” You feel your shoulders slump down the moment you enter your shared bedroom, immediately biting your lip as you notice your husband, peacefully sleeping with his cheek pressed against the soft pillows. He looks like a view in itself, face devoid of any stress lines, his breath evenly calm as he naps on the mattress.

In all honesty, it isn’t even that late — only 10 pm, which is usually when you come home. But you understand, because Jisung’s been staying up late at the studios for four days in a row. So, the fact that he’s giving himself sufficient sleep is pretty relieving. He pouts like a baby even in his sleep, and you find yourself standing at the entrance and just… mesmerized at how you’re married to such a pretty, gorgeous man.

Walking up to him, you throw your bag mindlessly onto the floor as you seat yourself at the edge of the bed, right beside your husband. He doesn’t flinch at the slight dip in the mattress, only sighing before snuggling further into the warm pillow.

Pretty, so pretty. He’s ethereal in every which way you look at him. His black hair falls over his eyes beautifully, eyes closed in so much peace you’re suddenly overcome with an urge to kiss his eyelids gently. You reach out to gently run your hands through his silky hair, brushing it out of his face to reveal the clear, lineless skin above his eyebrows. Succumbing to the temptation, you lean down. gently pecking his forehead, smiling when you feel him shift under your actions.

You don’t stop combing through his hair, eyes focused on your lover. You’re gazing at him with so much concentration you’ve totally forgotten about everything around you, or you for that matter. You can’t feel the tension in your shoulders in contrast to the bubbling feeling of love in your chest — all because you happen to glance at your husband falling asleep in the most adorable, loving manner.

“Mmh,” He mumbles, and you can sense he’s going to wake up. You gently tuck several strands of his hair behind his ear smiling when you feel him shiver at the action. He shifts around a bit more before opening his eyes, the sight of his delicate black orbs in the dim lighting of the room almost making your heart burst out of your chest.

Fuck, it’s illegal for Han Jisung to be so adorable.

“You’re back!” He mumbles incoherently, rubbing over his eyes like a child that only makes you spiral more into the warm feeling of fuzziness you experience when you’re with Jisung. He gently pecks the hand that lies near him before taking your hand in his, holding it close to his chest as he looks up at you with hooded eyes.

You only chuckle, rubbing your thumb against the high end of his cheekbone. “I am, baby.”

“What are you waiting for then…” He frowns in his dazed out state. “Come snuggle with me, I missed you.”

You feel his arm slightly cold underneath you, noticing how the lack of a blanket has caused him to huddle up into a ball to preserve his body heat. Silently, you get up from your spot, ignoring the confused whine that leaves Jisung’s lips as you pull the comforter over his body, tucking it under his arms.

His breath evens out once again as you kiss his forehead, leaving the room to quickly change into your pajamas, wash your face and scroll through your phone a bit to shut your alarm off. Because tomorrow is a Sunday, and by family law you’re obligated to not wake up early on a Sunday. Jisung’s rules, not yours.

A quick plop against the mattress, and you shift closer in your position behind Jisung, sneaking into the comforter before throwing an arm and a leg over his body. He only sighs for a second, grasping your hand in his own as he rubs a thumb over the back of your hand absent-mindedly.

“That’s much better.” he whispers, almost melting in your arms when you nuzzle the back of his neck passionately, bringing your free hand to brush through his hair once again. “How was your day, baby?” Your husband spills, and you fight back the wish to poke his soft cheek, for completely self-indulgent purposes. He was gorgeous — and so, so cute. You were bursting at the seams with how soft you were right now, all because of your husband being the softest little baby out there.

The warmth from the comforter and your body is extremely relaxing, and Jisung suddenly feels small beside you. You hum softy, pecking the back of his neck, smiling when you were rewarded with a sleepy, high pitched giggle. “We can talk about that tomorrow, you’re clearly tired and sleepy.”

“Hmm.” Jisung doesn’t question it. He’s been stressed about this comeback to the point where Chan had to send him home early to get some rest. Jisung’s thankful to Chan though, because he absolutely loves being in your arms, especially when you smother him in love and kisses — it relieves his stress like nothing else.

He turns around, letting a slight hum of content slip through his lips as he tries to get as close as he possibly can to your warmth. You watch over him with loving eyes and a bursting heart, sliding your arm down to rest against his soft cheek. His skin feels smooth like silk under your palm. You gently poke his cheek, kissing over the area immediately.

“You’re so pretty.” You know he’s still awake to hear you.

A loud, hearty laugh leaves your lips when Jisung outright blushes, whining like a child as he hides himself into your chest. “It’s too late for this, stop.” He says, looking up at you with big doe eyes as he pouts. He’s contagious, so contagious. You can still feel the spark you’d felt with him when you’d first met, even after so many years, especially after two years of marriage.

“It’s never too late to call you pretty, baby.” You rub small circles into his shoulders as he whines even louder.

“You’re mean” He humphs.

“You’re pretty.”

“Wha- no,” He drags at the “no” part, but even you know he secretly loves it when you compliment him and baby him like this. It’s not very often you tend to get this soft over your husband, either because you’re always busy or he’s always busy. But no matter what, the both of you make sure to spend at least one time of the day today, be in morning, afternoon, or night.

You don’t day anything besides snickering, tucking him into your embrace as you feel him slightly kiss your collarbones. “I love you baby. M’ sleepy, good night.”

You press your lips chastely to his forehead. “Good night, baby. We can spend the whole day together, tomorrow.”

*sighs*

🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ this is a prayer circle for the tags to work this time ;-; 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ oh tumblr gods if you hear me please stop tormenting me I beg of you 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ gosh ‘m so tired ; - ; 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️

377 notes · View notes

kaysayshey · 3 years

Text

lunch break || s. aizawa

Kay's Notes: Hey, y'all. I think this might be my first time ever posting my writing on Tumblr, so bare with me. I've been using mobile exclusively, and let's just say that my theme is going to be a work in progress. If there is anything you as a reader would like me to change in either tagging or formatting, please let me know! I'm always open to comments, suggestions, critiques, whatever. This work is edited from an OC x Aizawa fanfic that I am working on. I'll be writing more reader insert type works in the upcoming months, as I now have an embarrassingly long list of them.

Summary: Aizawa and Y/N decided to meet up for lunch. That sounds simple enough, right? Ha, wrong. Lunch for two turns into lunch for one.

Warnings: AFAB reader, NSFW, minors DNI. Non-established relationship, oral (f! receiving), praise, slightly insecure reader near the end. Reader is a hero and has a quirk, but it is not defined.

The hellions were too much. Administering the written portion of the final exam had Shouta questioning his choice in career path, if he was being frank. How some of his students had passed the entrance examinations was beyond him at this point, and the thought of grading them sent a chill through his body despite the day's heat.

Despite the impending horror that was Kaminari Denki's handwriting and subsequent answers, Aizawa had a small smile on his face as he made his way to Y/N's apartment. Their last encounter had him yearning for more, anything to learn more about the angel that had graced his presence.

How could he even describe it? She had been nothing like his expectations, instead defying them one by one. Snarky in the best ways, quick-witted enough to leave him holding back chortles. Powerful enough to keep almost any other hero on their toes. Gorgeous, too gorgeous. And she had admitted feelings to him? What was there left to say? He felt honored to be attempting, well, whatever it was they were calling their relationship. Kisses and lingering touches be damned.

"Meet me for lunch after the finals? I'd be more than happy to cook for you at my place."

And meet Y/N for lunch he would.

She had left her door unlocked, obviously expecting him. But when Shouta made his way through the foyer of her apartment, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. Not in the living room, not in the kitchen. What happened to lunch?

“Oh, Shouta…”

There was no chance in hell. He had to keep every muscle in his body taut so as not to sprint to her bedroom, the stiffening of his member almost instant. It took all of his willpower to casually make his way to her room, the door wide open.

That little minx. She was laid out on her bed completely bare, hair splayed beautifully beneath her. Her back arched as she rubbed slow circles over her clit, slick all the way down to her mid-thigh. Another breathy gasp escaped her; her eyes squeezed shut as she moaned out his name once more.

He couldn’t help himself from slowly making his way to the edge of her bed, unraveling his capture weapon as he walked. “Kitten, is this all for me?”

Y/N's eyes shot open immediately. Those incredible breasts were on display for him, finally. Her thighs clenched together over her hand, blocking him from viewing anymore of her dripping folds.

“I – I thought you’d be later,” she gasped, snaking her free arm over her chest.

“I’m glad I’m not.” The words came out in a murmur as he pulled his top off in one fluid motion, dark eyes taking in every inch of her form. Achingly slowly, he kneeled onto the bed, one hand creeping up her side, relishing in the soft skin beneath his fingertips. He moved to grasp her chin in his hands, forcing her to meet his lust-blown gaze. He gently pressed a kiss to her lips, sighing when she responded so eagerly.

“Who knew I’d be having you for lunch, angel?” At his question, Y/N moaned, the very phrase sending goosebumps all over her body. The slightest heave of her breathing sent her chest up closer to him, and God be damned if he wasn’t desperate to pull every part of it between his lips.

“Sho-Shouta, please,” she stammered, her head rolling to one side of the pillow. He took that as an invitation to press his lips to her neck, nipping lightly at her skin, groaning at the sound of her voice. God, this was too much. He was suckling at her skin like a man starved, ravenous for her crying out for him. But he knew better than to push too far. He’d make her beg for it. Not just today, but for as long as he could get away with it. Until she couldn’t go a single day without pleading for him to fill her completely, to give in to her wanton need for them to become one.

“Easy, kitten. I’ll take care of you.” Shouta’s voice was low and gravelly as he moved further down her skin, lips endlessly exploring every part of her flesh. He stopped at her collarbone; another suckle that had her bucking her hips, leaving a lovely bruise in his wake. To her sternum, lazily licking between her breasts. Y/N heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair and subsequently whining when he wouldn’t move. A soft tug to his locks made him smirk, eyes flashing up, mesmerized by the expression on her face. Her eyes were half-lidded and those pouty lips were plump and parted. He could only imagine how it would feel to watch as her lips wrapped around his cock, to have those beautiful eyes staring up at him from where she was settled on her knees.

Finally, he allowed himself to wrap his lips around one perky nipple, giving it a quick suck before leisurely stroking it with his tongue. Shouta slid a hand down to gently push her thighs apart, anxious to feel her heat for himself. God, she was overwhelmingly wet. How could he keep himself from smiling when he knew he was turning her on so well? As he languidly continued to work his tongue around her breast, he inched a finger to her folds, chuckling softly when she arched at the touch.

“You’re ready for me, aren’t you?” Shouta whispered the words, pleased when she gasped out as he rubbed a soft circle over her clit, the lightest touch to keep her on edge.

“Ba-baby, please,” she groaned, releasing her vice-like grip on his hair when he moved from her side to kneel at the edge of the bed. It was followed by a squeak as he pulled her by the hips to meet him, keeping her thighs spread for him to enjoy. The hums she emitted were low, interrupted by soft whispers, his name a prayer between her lips. But in Shouta’s eyes, her body was a temple, and he was here to worship it, eager to finally have a taste of heaven.

His tempo was torture, agonizingly slow. The up and down of his thumb over her clit kept her rolling her hips, wordlessly begging him for more.

And when she looked down, the smirk he gave her was brash, an arrogance she would never have expected to see on Shouta’s usually stoic face. But the moment he gave her one long, achingly slow lick from her entrance to her clit, she learned why he was so cocky. He knew that he was going to leave her breathless. He repeated the movement for what felt like forever, leaving Y/N running her hands through his hair once more. Those easy strokes evolved into Shouta focusing his attention to her clit, lapping at it greedily.

Shouta couldn’t get enough of her. The taste of her, the feeling of her hands keeping him exactly where she wanted him. The way she would moan out softly, following it up with a whine when his licks turned into soft sucks. He fervently slipped a finger inside of her, curving it as he slowly pumped.

“More, more, please.” Her mewls were desperate, and he chuckled against her folds, obliging her. The movements were deliberate, his pace steady as he continued to thrust into her, reaching the spot that made her groan. Looking up again, he was mesmerized by the carnal desire in her eyes, by the way she deliciously rolled her hips against him. And as much as he yearned to just take her then and there, Shouta kept his focus on her pleasure. He gradually increased the pace of his thrusts, continuing to suck on her swollen nub.

Her walls started clenching, and Y/N’s breathing grew more labored with every minute.

“Shouta, wait, I'm going to -” Her words were strangled in her throat, and he had no problem ignoring them. He wouldn’t wait. Not when she was writhing from his touch, from the way he devoured her. No, he wouldn’t stop, not when she was on the edge. This was what he had been aching for. Shouta added a third slender finger into her folds, groaning as she started to flutter around him. Her hands were gripping the bed sheets like she was afraid they’d fly away, and the movement of her hips was erratic.

He held one of her thighs down with his free hand and thrust into her furiously, knowing just how close she was.

“Oh my God, Shouta, I -”

“Come for me, angel.”

Her walls spasmed around his fingers, and those luscious hips lifted off of the bed, furiously writhing against his hand. Y/N’s moans were the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Shouta watched in awe as she came, keeping his pace consistent until she begged, pleaded for him to slow down, no more, please, Shouta.

Y/N shuddered on the bed, her legs finally closing together when Shouta laid himself next to her, gingerly running his hands through her hair. Gentle kisses against her cheeks, her neck, her forehead. God, she was sacred in his eyes. Those brilliant eyes fluttered open, and a radiant smile graced her lips.

“You’re absolutely divine, Y/N,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her skin was damp to the touch, but he wanted to feel it all the same.

“You can’t say things like that, Shouta. A girl just might believe it.” The words were light, but they held a hint of sorrow behind them. As if she didn’t think he’d ever mean it. He took her chin in one of his hands once more, begging her to meet his eyes. And she did, albeit it begrudgingly.

“Y/N, you are an angel on Earth, and I will make you believe it, whether you like it or not.” A devoted kiss to her lips. He’d remind her every single day until it was ingrained in her – she was incredible.

#kaysayshey #mha #bnha #bnha aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x female reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #hi i'm super anxious to post this #please let me know how you like it!#anywho #stream butter for clear skin #oh god why am i like this

45 notes · View notes