#a bit of superior universe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

obsessivevoidkitten · 8 months

Text

The Werewolf's Pet Cat

Trans Male Yandere Werewolf x Trans Male Cat-hybrid Reader (CW: Noncon, mild scent kink, knotting, inhuman genitals, heat cycles, rut, werewolf yandere, reader being chased, trans male reader and yandere, yandere has transitioned via magic, general yandere behavior.) Word Count 2.1k (This is a commission for @trocha1c. I hope you guys enjoy it. Also this is not an omegaverse fic, there is knotting because the yandere is a werewolf and there is a heat cycle for the reader because they are part feline, sense of smell is mentioned because of their animal abilities, but there are no alphas or omegas in this universe.)

There were many servants in any castle, even in a smaller one like the one that you worked in still contained a sizable workforce. The dusting alone was an atrocious task. You would know, you were one of those numerous servants. Though you were the only one who was a cat-man.

Your tasks were largely various cleaning oriented jobs including dusting, sweeping, laundry, and occasionally bringing food from the kitchen to Lord Dran when he decided to have his meals outside of the kitchen.

That’s the task you enjoyed the most, it meant you got to be in his presence. He always smelled so nice. So… masculine. Even with your sensitive feline nose you couldn’t quite place what it was.

You had worked for him for about a year and you had been almost supernaturally attracted to him since the first time you met him. Of course… despite being a somewhat uncommon cat man you were still very much a commoner. And he was a lord.

You could never hope to be anything to him.

This wasn’t an incorrect line of thinking. Lord Dran was very much attracted to you as well. He could tell you were a kindred soul. He also possessed superior senses and he knew that even though you were a boy you had a pussy between your legs, and he could smell its arousal whenever you stayed in the room with him for any extended length of time.

He was once like you, a man with those parts, until he had paid a lot of money for a mage to conduct a complex ritual to give him the body he had always wanted. The fact that you were both trans made him want you much more. You’d understand him more than others.

But despite his deep seated longing for you he would have to be satisfied with stolen glances, your scent, and impure thoughts he harbored towards you, for he couldn’t ever deign to be with a commoner.

He had to use his position as a lord to solidify a political alliance for his family and strengthen the family position.

You were completely oblivious to his long stares and extra kindness towards you. In the end it didn’t matter though. They couldn’t amount to anything.

But the royal family, or at least his branch of it had a terrible secret. They were no longer human. They were all werewolves. Once a month during the full moon Lord Dran retreated to a fortified private room and grew into a large ravenous beast. One from nightmares, with a hunger for fresh game and with an instinctual need to find a mate to stuff its big knot into.

You didn’t have something so dramatic to struggle with, you only had a monthly heat cycle. They weren’t really all that bad, you just became significantly more horny, more sensitive to the scents of others, and a bit feverish. Nothing you couldn’t handle.

But it just so happened that your heat cycle coincided with the full moon.

One night, a full moon no less, you had been working late in the great hall cleaning up after earlier festivities. When you finished you headed for the servant’s quarters but for some reason you had made a wrong turn. And you were much closer to the room that no one ever went into. The one that always remained locked.

When you realized where you were you started to turn back but something alluring with a hint of danger hit your heat-enhanced nose and you were compelled to follow.

You got closer and closer to the door. What was that amazing smell? It was so strong now… and starting to cause you to make a wet spot from the arousal it was generating in you.

Suddenly you heard a muffled scream of pain through the thick door. You ran over to it and found that it was locked from the outside and through the glass panel you saw Lord Dran naked on the ground writhing in pain.

You immediately unlocked the heavy metal door and made your way inside, running to him with utmost concern.

“What’s wrong my lor-”

“Y-you… don’t.. under… stand… g-get ouuOOWWWLLLLL”

His last word turned into a pained howl as his body shook. His bones and muscles rearranged themselves before your very eyes as thick fur covered his body.

The seemingly human Lord Dran was a werewolf! A cursed Beast!

To say you were terrified was a gross understatement. Your heart was beating so fast that it hurt. Quickly, you turned to flee the room so you could lock the monster in behind you. But the speed of the werewolf was far superior to your own. He grabbed your leg, long claws raking against your supple skin, causing you to flop down on your belly.

It was at that exact moment that a shocked guard rounded the corner and saw the scene, you crying on your stomach, being pulled closer by his transformed Lord.

He had been given the duty to protect the door from anyone who may get too close, but he had left his post for a few minutes to take a leak.

And now this had happened.

You looked up at him standing in the doorway and screamed for his help, but when he got over the fear that paralyzed him he stammered out a quick apology and slammed the door before sliding the heavy lock in place, quite literally sealing your fate. He just couldn’t risk Lord Dran being released to save but one lowly servant.

The guard was sure you were going to perish in a horrifying display of blood and gore. YOU were sure you were going to perish in a horrifying display of blood and gore.

But a violent blow never came. Instead the beast flipped you over on your back and sniffed curiously at your crotch, nuzzling his nose into it. You desperately kicked away his face, but his angry growl was enough to make you stop.

The werewolf had determined that you were his mate, and while you didn’t know it yet he would never harm his partner. But… he also wouldn’t be denied his right to stuff them with his knot.

With extreme care not to harm your fragile skin, he carefully used his razor sharp claws to remove your clothing from your quivering form. You didn’t immediately understand exactly what his intentions with you were but it became clear what he wanted when he loomed over you and saw his large red cock erect and swinging beneath him. He pinned you down easily.

You shuddered as his cold nose nuzzled into your sensitive neck, taking in your sweet scent.

As his dick got closer to your entrance you renewed your struggle, forgetting the strength of the creature that was holding you down and the perceived danger he represented.

“No! No please! I-i don-”

This time he didn’t respond with a growl, instead opting to lick your neck to try and calm you down. He wasn’t going to hurt his little mate~ He just wanted to fuck you and take care of that heat cycle he could smell so clearly. He was helping you!

Encouraged by the whimpers his tongue on your neck brought out of you he started biting. Not hard enough to break skin, but they would still leave lovely little claiming marks.

The combination of stimulation from the bites, your heat, and his scent finally caused you to spread your legs for him, you barely registered what you were allowing as his cock plunged into your drooling pussy with an audible squelching noise.

With your tight wet warmth enveloping him his knot began swelling inside of you, making your toes curl and twitch as it kissed the walls of your cunt with every powerful thrust of your Lord.

Some part of your brain was still telling you to scream for help and cry and try to struggle, but it felt so nice to finally have a heat taken care of.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, grinding your pussy into his dick, as he continued biting you wherever he could leave a nice claiming mark.

The two of you went at it nearly all night, bringing one another to orgasm many times over.

At some point, very late into the night, you passed out from exhaustion with the lycanthrope holding you close, nutting in you a couple more times before finally falling asleep himself. With his knot still tying the two of you together as he caressed you.

When Lord Dran woke up he was his normal human self, holding you in his arms.

He freaked out about the situation, but as soon as the guard informed him what had happened and he had a moment to reflect he knew what he had to do.

Regardless of your social status he would have to keep you very close at all times to ensure that you never speak of his “condition” to a single soul.

When you finally woke up you were confused and sore, covered in bite marks and a few scratches. When the memory of what had transpired last night finally rushed back to you, terror gripped your heart once more.

Lord Dran was a werewolf, and he had scratched you! Would you become a cursed beast yourself?

“Oh you’re awake! We have a lot to discuss…”

The first thing he explained, as if he could read your thoughts, was that lycanthropy passed via bloodlines and complex curses. Nothing physical.

That was a relief.

The next thing he explained was that he could never let you leave his side now. You’d have to marry him and there was simply no other solution. He could not risk his secret getting out. Even if the chance of someone believing you was small.

“I am so sorry this happened to you.”

Though to be honest he was quite happy. The his to any social status was worth it to have a mate that he can be with with no danger when his time of the month came around. He was sure he would have slaughtered anyone else, but you were so special. With you there he could focus on fucking instead of violent urges, it was more than he could ever have hoped for.

Just a day ago if you had been told you would soon be in a relationship with Lord Dran you would have been elated, but now you were just terrified. You didn’t want to marry a werewolf. You had sympathy for his situation, but this is not the kind of thing you thought that you could deal with.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

ONE MONTH LATER.

It had been days since you had managed to escape the castle. With your keen animal-like senses you managed to be able to hunt and forage enough with yourself to get by. Plus you had managed to keep a bit of gold with you, just in case.

You wanted to make it to the next kingdom, but the way was long and the woods were dense. You probably had another week of travel before making it across the border. No nobles from your home country would dare cross without notice.

Night was fast approaching so you decided you would make camp until the first light of dawn. You were once again in heat so you slid a couple of your fingers into your pussy to take the edge off.

While you were masturbating you suddenly heard what sounded like branches breaking close by. You pulled your pants up and listened intently, your feline ears moving to try and locate the source of the sound.

Probably just an ani-

Your thought was interrupted by a great and blood curdling howl. And it was exceedingly close. Was it a wild wolf? Was it something… more? You didn’t stay to find out.

With your animal-like agility you wasted no time in running out into the dark. You could probably manage to outrun a wolf.

But the shadowy figure you saw pursuing you in the moonlight was no wolf.

And now that you were down wind you could smell it too.

Lord Dran.

In no time at all you were pounced upon, claws once again removing clothing and a huge erection prodding at your entrance.

Ah, his mate was already nice and warmed up for him~ How sweet!

His wolf form didn’t understand why his mate had run, but that didn’t matter now. The chase was won and he certainly would never let you have another chance at escape.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere x reader #trans male yandere #trans male reader #ftm reader #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #my ocs #yandere werewolf #My OC Dran

2K notes · View notes

aureatchi · 4 months

Text

⛇₊˚ .࿐₊˚✧ BUBBLES IN MY CHAMPAGNE, LET IT BE SOME JAZZ PLAYIN’ . . .OSAMU DAZAI

⟢ SYNOPSIS. the port-mafia was infamous for throwing glamorous holiday parties every year. not only were you attending this time, but you were also finally going to be introduced as the port-mafia boss’ pretty girlfriend! or…that was the plan.

of course, things never go according to plan.

a/n. merry christmas !! adding onto the xmas dazai fics jdjsjwn <3 this one’s vv chaotic.

info. fem!reader. pm boss!dazai. pm exec!reader. fluff, angst, pinch of sugg. there’s DRAMA. mentions of drinking. lil jealousy. dazai is a 💩. the pm is filthy rich lmao. pazenia is a made up country. wc. 3.4k

“Oh my.”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

The brunette chuckled as he waltzed towards you. You saw him appear behind you through the sizeable full-body mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist as you finished applying your lipstick.

“It looks even better on you.” Dazai’s fingers wandered playfully, tracing the curves the red dress he gifted you hugged so well. The tailoring was so impressive—the dress could fit noone else but you. And indeed, it was made exclusively for you, for the largest and most luxe corporate event of the year.

It was the Port Mafia Christmas party. Everyone was required to attend, and plus-ones were allowed too, stirring even more chaos into the affair. You were a Port Mafia executive—of course you were going, but the night was going to be unique for another reason.

Tonight, the Port Mafia boss would confirm all the rumors…all the gossip circulating the past few months. He was finally making your relationship with him official in front of everyone.

As if everyone still doesn’t know.

Yet you were nervous. Keeping things an enigma actually worked in your favor—besides suspicious stares with muffled voices and jealous women, you didn’t have to worry about much. Dazai would take care of any problem. After all, you trusted him completely.

But now, everyone would know. You and Dazai had gone through all the downsides—you could become a potential target for any enemies, your name would rise even higher on the wanted list, and you could be stalked by frustrated, jealous men…honestly, you two were almost too hot for your own wellbeing.

Just almost, because “I’ll take care of it all. I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you, darling.”

He whispered those words into your ear, sensing your anxiousness as you continued to look at your reflections.

“Please don’t worry.”

He did not speak in his usual teasing, playfully amorous voice. The brunette’s face matched the seriousness of the topic you had both gone over multiple times, making sure that the other wanted to still go through with it. You both didn’t want to force the decision of your relationship upon the other—though it was Dazai who had suggested the idea, the choice rested entirely on you. He ensured you knew you could change your mind anytime you wanted.

And Dazai wished you could see that he truly, would go to the ends of universes to make sure you were safe.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I won’t,” you replied. “I’m only worried about you. I need to be by your side at all times to fight any bad guys that come for you.”

And girls. If you were being honest, you always felt a bit sick thinking about other women wanting him. Maybe this is why your nerves hadn’t backed you out yet…you wanted everyone to know their leader was indeed taken.

Dazai laughed more heartily than he intended to at the comment. He, the now Port Mafia superior commander, known even before as the Demon Prodigy, was being talked to in concern that he needed a sidekick to help him.

Though, he was also the same man whose mind was full of fervor for one girl. You giggled, seeing the apparent blush on Dazai’s face when you fixed his black tie. He was matching with you, of course—his red attire was the ruby scarf.

“Perfect,” you mused when you were done. “Wow, you’re handsome.“

“And you’re ethereal,” Dazai responded, putting on your coat. “Ready to go shock everyone?”

“As if half of the mafia doesn’t already suspect anything between us, Osamu,” you smiled.

“Hmm…you’re right.

“Of course they’d think I’d sought after the prettiest woman in the world.” A coy grin snuck back onto his lips.

…

It was evident your lover had good taste, not only in outfits. He chose to rent out one of the big hotels as the venue for the party—very fitting for the filthy-rich organization.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped out of the limo was the massive Christmas tree in the center of the hall.

“Woah.” There were at least fifty gifts under it already.

You noticed Dazai’s brows suddenly furrow as he, too, inspected the presents.

“Osamu?”

“Bella, remind me who this person is again.”

He picked up a present, showing you a familiar name.

“Oh!” He was the assistant under your wing. You two had worked together for years—you had built up a lot of trust and a friendship to have him in charge of some of your responsibilities.

“I see. Don’t mind that; I forget some of my men sometimes.”

You nodded, though you felt a bit unsure about his response. Regardless, you cast the thought aside.

What you didn’t notice was the way Dazai showed you the package. The present was from your assistant, but the name it was for was entirely covered by the brunette’s hand.

“Well, are you ready to go in?” Dazai asked, holding out a hand towards you.

“Yeah, I’m-”

“Dazai!”

It was Kouyou, another executive. She saw you and greeted you, too.

“My, you’re looking lovely today,” she chirped. “So you and the boss are dating.”

You smiled. “Yes.”

“Well, better tell everyone soon,” she told the both of you. “Dazai, a daughter of a very infamous organization in Europe, is at this party as a plus-one. She wants to discuss a business proposal…‘as soon as possible,’ she said. It’s confidential, too; she only wants you. Do you have a few moments to spare?”

Dazai immediately turned toward you, to which you nodded at him. “It seems important, especially if she’s from Europe.”

“You’re sure?” Dazai asked. You were supposed to walk into the dining hall together to introduce yourselves as the power couple of the evening. “What about…”

“Yeah, the mafia is the priority. I’ll find you soon.” You were an executive, after all. The mafia existed to protect Yokohama City, so work should be an urgency.

“Alright,” he replied. He took another look at you—a singular, amber eye softened once he met your gaze. The other was hidden behind bandages, and so were the emotions of his heart. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling at the moment.

“Let’s go, big sis.” He turned towards Kouyou, who led him out of the room.

Now alone, not counting the guards, you glanced at the presents again, picking up the one Dazai had previously questioned you about.

Oh! Your assistant gave you a present. You found it sweet; your assistant hadn’t gifted you anything until this year. Now Dazai’s reaction made sense—perhaps he had thought you had a secret admirer or something. You giggled at his assumed jealousy.

…

You walked inside the dining hall by yourself, a large crowd already entertaining themselves inside. Everyone who saw you stopped to greet you—their executive, and you wished them a merry Christmas back with a friendly smile.

“Huh? So she’s not dating him?”

You turned your head the slightest, pretending to grab a drink while you instead eavesdropped on two employees you hardly knew. Thank goodness they weren’t the ones going out on missions to spy—they were terrible at not being obvious.

“I’m not sure. But that underground aristocrat from Europe that everyone knows has a crush on the boss showed up to meet him. That huge Christmas tree by the staircases is actually a gift from her.”

“Really?! So…maybe she was the boss’ plus-one? Now that’s wild. Everyone really had me believing he was seeing the executive.”

“Yo!” Your attention was suddenly pulled from their conversation.

“You good? You’re overflowing your cup.” You had poured too much drink, so liquid was running all over the floor.

“Shoot, I think she heard us!” you faintly heard behind you as the employees moved away.

“Oh, yeah. I’m so sorry,” you responded to your assistant who had found you. He handed you a few napkins to clean your hands and dropped a few more to mop the floor with his shoe.

“You didn’t need to help, and thank you,” you said as you cleaned up, too, feeling bad.

“All good! Merry Christmas, by the way. How’s your evening going so far?”

“Good, thank you,” you responded, half-truthful. You needed to find somewhere to process what you had just heard. Even if they were only rumors…they bothered you.

“I saw you got me a gift in the lobby,” you added, recalling earlier. “I was surprised! You haven’t done that before, so I found it so sweet.”

“Oh yeah!” he replied, and you didn’t miss the pink that tinted his cheeks. “Who knows…I may have had a change of heart this year.”

You chuckled innocently. “Well, whatever the reason, thank you! I’m excited to see what you got.”

“Of course. I do hope you like it! Also, your dress. It looks good on you.” His voice sped up at his last comment.

“Oh, uh, thanks-”

That was really awkward. You gave him mercy, though…you hadn’t even told him you were in a relationship. So, you tried to say to him that it was your boyfriend, Dazai, who had the dress made for you, but you were cut off.

Dazai had finally entered the room, but he was accompanied by that noblewoman everyone was speaking about.

Wow, she was gorgeous. Her hair was in a perfect blowout, and she wore an emerald green dress that fit her like a glove.

And with each step Dazai and this new woman took into the hall to be regarded by everyone, your heart sank a bit more into your stomach.

What??

“You don’t look so well. Are you okay?” Your assistant paid no mind to the mafia boss’ new commotion. He was wholly concerned for you.

“Yeah. This drink tastes weird, but I can’t put my finger on what.” Yet, you took another sip. What was going on? You had never doubted Dazai’s love or loyalty toward you. Had you been so blind by your own to miss this?

Dazai didn’t even bother trying to search for you. And the way the lady’s arm touchingly clung around his infuriated you.

“He was seeing some foreign princess all along?”

“The boss always has to cause a scene with something new.”

“They’re kind of hot together, though.”

Now you really wanted to puke. You stared until the noblewoman’s eyes finally caught yours and dwelt on your figure briefly before turning toward Dazai and asking him something.

Dazai’s lips read, “Okay!” before a guard approached you.

“The boss is summoning all the executives to him,” he whispered in your ear, and you nodded, strolling over to him.

Fuck. You wanted to cry. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

You felt a bit better when the other executives—Kouyou and Chuuya showed up before you.

“Miss, these are the Port Mafia’s three executives.” He introduced you individually, not meeting your eye when he went to you.

You wanted to leave. There was no point in being here anymore. What you thought would be a cheery Christmas Eve turned out to be the worst night ever. It couldn’t have gotten any worse…

“And this is the Lady of Pazenia,” Dazai said, introducing the woman. “Our most important foreign guest tonight.”

“So, uh? I’m kinda confused,” Chuuya commented. “Mackerel boss, ya dating her or something?” He glanced at Dazai, the girl on him, and then you.

She responded for him. “We’re getting acquainted tonight, that’s all,” she replied smugly. Dazai chuckled. “Yes…we’ve communicated online a few times, but this is the first time we’re meeting face to face.”

What the fuck.

“Oh, uh, okay.” For once, Chuuya didn’t pester, didn’t tease anymore. Because he was just as startled as you. He, too, suspected that you were dating the boss.

“I’m sorry, will you please excuse me? It was nice meeting you, m’lady; I hope you enjoy your Christmas with the boss.” You didn’t even wait for a reply. You stormed off in the direction of your assistant. You were going to ask him to drive you home, and then you’d pack your things and then stay at a friend’s house for a few days to figure out what to do next.

Everything was crashing down like an avalanche.

But before you could get to him, the bastard’s subordinate stopped you.

“Akutagawa? Hi, Merry Christmas. Sorry, I’m in a rush-”

“Merry Christmas, miss,” he responded, moving in front of you again when you tried to shift over. “Aren’t you going to rescue the boss? Has your emotion clouded your rationality so much you can’t see things clearly anymore?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

You turned back towards the scene, and yeah—what you saw was your final straw. Akutagawa misjudged. Not even a glimmer of hope remained in you.

Somehow, they had ended up at the corner of the room. And lo and behold, Dazai and the Lady of Pazenia had ended up under the mistletoe, and many of the upper ranks surrounded them. There was even a Paparazzi.

You tried to push past Akutagawa, but he stopped you.

“Watch.”

Why? Did Dazai place him there to make sure you suffered through it all? This was so cruel. Tears welled up in your eyes as the room went quiet to watch.

“Oh! Silly me…how did I manage to get here?”

“I’m not sure…” the woman replied flirtatiously. “But you can’t break a tradition, boss of the Port Mafia.”

“I guess I can’t,” Dazai replied, leaning in. “But, can we make a deal, Miss?

“You can kiss me, but tell me where the real Lady of Pazenia is. The exact coordinates where you’re keeping her hostage. If there’s anyone kept in place to secure or torture her.”

And the crowd suddenly gasped. She did, too, and a hand flew to her mouth.

“Shit!”

About ten guards ran towards her, restraining her before she could do anything. Dazai calmly backed away, continuing to explain.

“The business proposal was crafty and would’ve led to our doom quite quickly. You’re trying to overthrow your own government. So, you devised a cover-up to get the mafia to help you, with a deal to help us on our end, but just like your original goal, you want our city’s government to fall into anarchy, too.

“An underground noblewoman. You are exactly that—quite literally.” Dazai sighed. “No, I’m not in a relationship with her, I…”

Dazai finally met your eye, and his heart immediately sunk seeing you cry.

“Oh my gosh,” he whispered, and he ran towards you, tightly embracing you.

You wanted to punch him, throw him away—something, but you were surrounded by half the corporate. There was already enough scandal tonight, you didn’t need to add any more.

“Hah, it’s okay,” you responded audibly, hastily wiping tears. “You’re a great actor, Osamu, really got me believing you were cheating on me for a second.” Words spurred out of your mouth—you hoped you wouldn’t regret it later.

Dazai’s grip on you tightened to silently show you gratitude before he turned to your audience. “Now that the problem is out of the way—Merry Christmas to you all.” A waiter handed him a glass of champagne, who had also gone around with multiple others to hand out drinks to everyone.

“And a special Merry Christmas to my girlfriend, right here.” He gave you a kind smile, and you tried your best to reciprocate your own. There were “awe”’s and “that’s so cute”’s about.

Dazai held his glass up towards everyone else’s before toasting with yours.

…

You stayed away from Dazai for the next hour. He respected your space for that long—in the meantime, you acted fine. You conversed with others, you laughed. Your assistant apologized for his comment on you earlier—“I was completely oblivious to you and the boss! I’m so sorry; I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” You laughed it off, telling him it was okay.

“Hey, bella.”

Dazai had finally found you alone. You looked at him, facing the inevitable.

“I’m getting tired. Wanna sneak away with me?”

You hesitated. “Where would we go?”

“The drinks suck here, besides that champagne. I know Chuuya was definitely not in charge of this part.”

You had to agree with that one. You couldn’t even finish the glass you overfilled earlier.

…

Bar Lupin was surprisingly empty that night. The bar was Dazai’s safe place, his getaway. You were constantly reminded of his genuine, complete trust in you whenever he took you here.

“I’m sorry,” Dazai apologized as you waited for your drinks. “What I did was brutal.”

“It really fucking hurt,” you said, finally able to release your true feelings now that nobody else was around.

“I had to keep up the act to expose her. Her vulnerability was that…she had a crush on me? So, the most rapid way to gain her trust was to make her believe she had a chance. She didn’t know I was seeing someone.”

“You take acting too seriously. You’re the Port Mafia boss, not some goddamn movie actor. You couldn’t even…make eye contact with me? Give me a reassuring look or something?”

“You’re right. That’s no excuse.” He took a breath. He had actually messed something up. He could predict and do everything else flawlessly until it came to the people he loved.

He always screwed it up.

“I set aside our relationship for a mission. I’m really sorry, love. And I understand if it takes awhile for you to think through it all. The only thing I ask is for forgiveness.”

“I dunno…it kind of seems like you enjoyed it…”

That was a lie. You were just saying things out of spite now. You had rethought the previous events after recalling what Akutagawa had harshly told you without context—rescue the boss? Yeah, Dazai clearly didn’t enjoy it. He never touched the woman back in any way, and his word choice was very cautious. Except one line.

“Us communicating online? Yeah, I knew she’d just go along with it. I had to say that so Chuuya would stop pushing and blow my cover. Besides, you literally have my email login, darling. You see everything.”

“I really hate you sometimes, Osamu, you know?” you muttered as the bartender finally handed you two your drinks. You took a thirsty sip out of yours. You couldn’t even stay mad anymore.

“Is that your way of saying you forgive me?” he chuckled, knowing the mood was lightening.

“No. You’re just too…attractive. Like, why are you so hot? All the girls want you…I was actually quite relieved when you asked me if we should make things official so everyone could finally know that we belong to each other…”

Hah, if only you knew.

“You don’t assume I think the same? You almost pissed me off by hanging around your little assistant, too, belladonna. He clearly fancies you.”

You gulped, remembering his earlier compliment. “Don’t do anything to him—he didn’t know. He does now.”

“He better,” he simply replied. “And everyone else. There’s no excuse now—you’re the Port Mafia boss’ girlfriend.”

You felt like there were butterflies in your stomach. The protectiveness was attractive. You pulled on Dazai’s tie, reeling the rest of him towards you.

“And you’re my boyfriend,” you smiled.

To everyone else, Dazai was known as evil, suicidal, murderer, demon, saint. But to you, he was simply Osamu. Your boyfriend. And perhaps that’s what he loved most of all. Across universes, you would not fail him—not even Odasaku succeeded so highly.

“Are you going to kiss me, bella?” Dazai asked, the signature smile back on his face.

“No,” you teased, pushing him back. “I’m still mad at you. Nothing went according to plan.”

“Nothing did,” the brunette replied. “But isn’t that what’s so exciting about life? Life is unexpected, yet some good things can come out of it, such as…”

He revealed a piece of mistletoe in his hand, holding it above you two.

“Even if you’re mad, you can’t break a tradition,” Dazai spoke, swinging the plant back and forth.

You sighed before you both leaned in to kiss each other. Dazai pulled you onto his lap, and you kissed him even more feverishly. Your hands ran through his hair until the bandage around his head finally came undone, unveiling the rest of his pretty face.

You focused on his dilated, honey-colored eyes. Finally, they revealed what he was feeling. Comfort in having you in his arms again. In your warmth.

Everything felt too intense after that. He had started making out with you again, his hands were wandering you curiously, the dim lighting, the jazz instrumental, how tipsy you felt from the drinks…

“Let’s just go home.”

…

You were swaddled in Dazai’s arms under the bed's covers at home. So sleepy. Dazai promised that the next day would treat the both of you better—a peaceful Christmas gift.

“Let’s stop doing such large parties,” you said, looking up at the ceiling. “It just calls for trouble, to be honest.”

“Yeah…we’ll have a small houseparty next time. Everyone else can do what they want.”

You were gently kissed on the forehead before the brunette softly whispered to you. “Merry Christmas, belladonna. I love you.”

“I love you too, Osamu.”

dazai told me he’d kiss u if u rb this. rbs are cherished; they are ur christmas gift to me! <3

tags: @kissesmellow21 @osaemu @ruanais + @lovedazai @chuuyrr @anqelically (i think u guys would like this <3)

544 notes · View notes

lxclerc · 9 months

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary… charles tries to help his girlfriend study but that proves to be difficult when he doesn’t understand a single thing requested… yes! warning… none. pure fluff.

note… another old drabble request from the graves of my inbox. also as a med student, i adore this idea so much

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

charles has never been the brightest tool in the shed when it came to academics. he supposes it comes with the occupation. growing up, he cared far too much about racing that he had no space left in his mind to care about school too. he was always meant to be a formula one driver so he never cared about the cell or the mitochondria.

ironically, you were the exact opposite. like him, you’ve known what you were meant to be the moment you got ahold of your first book. you’re going to be a doctor, a healer and you’ve dedicated yourself to that dream.

the human body is a beautiful machine, much like the universe. every little cell and atom circulating its vessel holds a purpose, creating a balance between life and death. it’s majestic, truly and a little bit scary. if one thing failed then the entire system could collapse and so you studied and studied and studied for ways to keep that system going, to cure ailments and diseases.

you thrive off academic validation and a minor superiority complex and yet somehow you’re the most anxious person charles has ever met.

he’s madly in love with you. this is a fact. him and his dream that required him to constantly put his life at risk and you with your dream of helping and saving people. really it was a match made in heaven. and charles is madly madly in love with you.

that’s the only reasonable explanation as he pulled himself out of his sim practice, seamlessly moving around the kitchen of your shared apartment as he prepared an ice coffee for you.

you’re drained and you’re on the verge of breaking down and so when he wrapped his arms around you and offered to help you study for your finals, you’d all but cried in gratitude.

no, charles leclerc didn’t care about the cell and mitochondria and but he cares greatly for you and so he’d study it if it meant you’d finally allow yourself to rest.

unfortunately for him, you’re way past learning about the mitochondria. instead you’re studying your worst enemy aka pharmacology.

“angiotensin receptor blockers prevent vasoconstriction and aldosterone release, causing a decrease in blood pressure and peripheral resistance,” you recite from the top of your head, still looking like you’re on the verge of tears but slightly better.

charles shook his head as he held the book you’d given him to help you study, his glasses on. “non, non, amour. it says here it’s ‘angiotensin receptor blockers selectively bind to the angiotensin I receptors in the blood vessels to prevent vasoconstriction and in the adrenal cortex to prevent release of aldosterone then lead to decrease in BP caused by decrease in peripheral resistance and blood volume.’”

you sigh again but couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you. the first time he did it, you’d gotten frustrated but at this point, your brain is far too fried to even get annoyed at him. especially when even he looks like he’s about to start crying.

you pushed away the book from his hand, clumsily crawling over to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him down so he’d be laying on the sofa and you on top of him.

“my love, i don’t need to memorize everything word for word from the book,” you explain as gently as you can for the third time. you know he’s just trying his best to help you.

“why?” he frowned. “wouldn’t it be better if you knew it exactly from the book?”

you giggled. “perhaps but no med student would ever survive memorizing twelve inch books word for word. we’d simply all break down and die.”

you hold yourself up, pushing his hair off his forehead before removing his glasses. he still looks confused but a lot of things honestly confused charles. thank god he has a smart girlfriend to explain everything to him.

“stop worrying about it,” you say. “i’ve studied enough and we both need a break.”

he sighed in relief, tightening his arms around you. “thank god i felt like my brain was put on a pressure dryer for a minute there.”

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr @xjval @gridbunny

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 one shot

1K notes · View notes

theoldsports · 5 months

Text

Married | Part II

LINK TO PART ONE

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 5.1K words

FILTHY SMUT 18+ ONLY. oral (m and f receiving), dubcon, alcohol makes consent messy, brutal sex, blackout drunk, bad media coverage, lingerie, exhibitionism (a little), they’re both terrible for each other in the best way possible, possessiveness <3 this one gets a bit dark.

Married, back by popular demand. hope it’s okay. i worked hard, i’m a bit nervous. let me know what you thought. requests always open.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

He inhaled and set his sights towards his next objective. Already leaning in, Coriolanus pulled [Y/N]’s earlobe between his lips tantalizingly. “Now, I seem to recall being promised a blowjob, my Darling.”

[Y/N] sighed. “I had hoped you’d forgotten.”

Coriolanus smirked, inches from her face. “I never forget a promise.” He muttered.

The driver pulled up in front of them with his car and Coriolanus pulled [Y/N] inside. [Y/N] put her head on Coriolanus’ shoulder instead of putting on her seatbelt for the short drive home. She was drunk enough not to care if she was touching him, or if he was touching her. Coriolanus was touching her. He was touching her too much already at her thighs and hips. The pair of them had already broken the touch barrier that evening, but her brain was too loopy to try to push any kind of new/old boundary.

[Y/N] blinked heavily. She was able to tell that Coriolanus was already becoming frustrated with the bulk of tulle that was her black gown. It was funny for an engagement party when she thought about it, since it stood in stark contrast to her crisp white wedding gown. Coriolanus couldn’t seem to figure out how to touch her right under all the fabric as he had then they were standing earlier.

“Is your wedding dress going to be easier to handle?” Coriolanus said into the back of her ear. “This one is starting to get on my nerves.”

“I can’t tell you that. You’re not ‘pposed to see it til you see it at the alter.” She giggled sadly.

Coriolanus frowned. “Ancient superstition,” he said. “I’m not seeing it anyway. You’d be telling me about it. It’s different.”

“Nice try.”

Coriolanus’ frown deepened as he rolled his icy blue ice. “May I ask you something else, then?”

“It depends.” [Y/N] said clearly. Too clearly, really. That was the problem with drunk people, they knew they were drunk, but they tried to prove to everyone around them that they weren’t.

Coriolanus laughed at her expense. She was behaving like a child. He found it equal parts charming and frustrating. “Have you ever given a blowjob before?” He asked too loudly for [Y/N]’s liking.

“Coriolanus!” She gasped, smacking his arm.

“I’m just asking! You don’t have to strike me. Haven’t we had enough of that for one night?”

[Y/N] hated Coriolanus. He made her blood boil. “What does it matter?” She growled.

“I was curious if you had offered because it was a matter of superior ability, or because that was the only thing you had to offer.”

“You’re calling me desperate!”

“I wasn’t specifically, but since we both agree that it’s true…”

“All this was shaping up to be halfway tolerable, and you open your big mouth again. Fuck you!”

“Yeah, I know. You fucking me is what I was aiming for. Yes or no on the blowjob thing? I was assuming you had, if it makes any difference.”

[Y/N] paused. She had given a blowjob. Quite a few, actually. They were very convenient for getting out of a bad situation fast. She didn’t answer. [Y/N] still didn’t have the courage to say that in front of the driver.

“You can say yes. I know you’re not a virgin.” Coriolanus said bluntly.

Coriolanus would know that. Prior to their engagement, it was true that [Y/N] had pulled Coriolanus in for a quick fuck at a University party. She was shocked that he implied he even remembered that for as drunk as she recalled him being. [Y/N] wondered if the two of them would only ever be able to love each other under the influence.

“Can this conversation wait a few moments, we’re almost home.” [Y/N] replied.

“You didn’t have much of a problem back at the party in front of damn near everyone that’s ever known you. Is one driver going to make a difference?”

“FINE!” [Y/N] snapped. “Fine. I have, I give a decent blowie. Happy?”

Coriolanus smiled an uncharacteristically wide grin. The driver coughed slightly and loosened his tie. [Y/N] would have been incredibly embarrassed if she had any dignity left. Coriolanus grinned even wider at his driver’s behavior. His new favorite pass time was seeing how far he was capable of pushing [Y/N] to do whatever he wanted. So far, so good. Her initial resistance before her moment of breaking and behaving even worse than himself is what made this all the more fun.

The driver pulled up in front of the steps to their city apartment. Coriolanus gathered [Y/N]’s long forgotten shoes from the car’s floor. The driver got out to open the door for [Y/N]. Ever the gentleman publicly, Coriolanus ran around the side of the car to get it faster. He helped his fiancée out of the car. A Herculean task when you consider the alcohol in her system and the weight of all the fabric in her ballgown. “Come on, Darling,” he said, yanking her somehow elegantly towards the stairs, “we have business to attend to.”

Coriolanus helped her up the stairs and into their apartment. It was easier than it had been on the way out in those deathtrap heels he had purchased her.

Faintly, [Y/N] heard the door snap shut behind her and the deadbolt click resolutely. She leaned up against the wall. Coriolanus left her field of vision for a moment. When he re-entered her sights, [Y/N] blinked up at him. “Hi.” She said.

Coriolanus smirked at her curiously. “Hello.” He replied.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” [Y/N] started. She took a clumsy step towards Coriolanus and grabbed the lapels of his coat for support once she could reach him. “You’re quite pretty,” she said. Coriolanus began a laugh. “No! Don’t. Don’t do that. I mean, you’re a very attractive man. You are. Too bad that you’re—“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Coriolanus cut in with a scoff. “Here, let me help you,” he pulled her in closer. His hands moved nimbly down her back to pop open one button after the other on her dress while still allowing her to support herself against his front. For the first time, Coriolanus didn’t care that much if she wrinkled his clothes. When the majority of the buttons were undone, her dress slid down her body and landed in a large heap at her feet. What was left under the dress was [Y/N] in no bra (which Coriolanus had not expected, even under the strapless gown) and alarmingly red lace panties, stockings and garters (also unexpected). “I… Wow,” He said cooly. His eyes raked hungrily down her body. Coriolanus had never seen so much of it at once before. “Is there a bra that goes with this?”

“Mhmm,” [Y/N] nodded shyly.

“Hm, I think I would like to see it sometime. This isn’t half bad, though,” He said. He could Coriolanus’ large hands his hands slid down her chest. His hands held her breasts firmly. His eyes widen watching her nipples pebble under the touch of his thumbs. “Why’d you wear this?”

The lingerie wasn’t the most stunning set he had ever seen—it seemed more practical than anything else— though, he could fix that. Coriolanus felt the crotch of his pants tighten at the prospect, knowing that she was already into wearing such things. He was going to call for a lingerie catalog in the morning and buy all of it.

“It’s most of what I wear. I—I like it.”

“I’ll remember,” Coriolanus nodded. She was confident he would remember. She probably wouldn’t remember saying it, though.

Coriolanus stared down at their hardwood floors. He hated hardwood. It creaked too much and only looked good with an abundance of maintenance. Coriolanus wanted [Y/N] to suck him off as soon as possible and figured that she would probably be appreciative of getting it over with faster, but his mind was racing thinking about the unsightly bruises the hardwood entryway would leave on her knees.

Then the bedroom had the issue of the rug and the rugburn that would give. Further, which bedroom would they go to? Coriolanus hated that [Y/N] insisted on staying in her own room. He would have to fix that. She was clearly just as exciting as he had recalled from childhood, it had merely taken them both a moment to get to that level of vulnerability with each other. Coriolanus decided to lead [Y/N] to his bedroom. He also decided he would insist she kneel on a pillow. He hated the look of bruised knees. It reminded him of the war.

While he pulled her along, he glanced down at her. “The tears at the party, were those real?”

[Y/N] laughed in surprise at the question. “No! Well, maybe twenty percent, if that? Because once I get started, it’s hard to stop.”

“Really?” He replied, leaning her against his open doorway. “You’re sick. I’m rather impressed. That takes a lot of… What’s the word?”

“You said ruthless earlier.”

“Yes, that too, but… It’s brilliant that you can do that at the drop of a hat. Very valuable to you. Scary for me, I’m sure.”

“… Thanks. I’ve been doing it since I was little.” [Y/N] replied dryly. She had never seen Coriolanus’ bedroom before. He had seen hers. Coriolanus thought he could barge in whenever he desired. His own room was previously off limits. [Y/N] figured it wouldn’t have been off limits had she wanted to have sex with him before now.

The room was clean, neat and lacking personal items almost entirely. There was a red rug, a vase of white roses on the nightstand and a small desk for when he took his work to bed with him. The bed, specifically, was enormous. It was piled high with pillow after pillow and the softest white sheets she could imagine. It made the bed she had spent all these weeks in look like a joke.

“Yes, as I recall, you were the fucking… crybaby in school until we were fourteen. And you mean to tell me it was fake?” Coriolanus threw his least favorite pillow on the floor for [Y/N]’s knees with a hushed thump.

“I mean, yes.”

“Why?”

“I like the attention.” [Y/N] said plainly. They both knew she wouldn’t have been so open about it without the alcohol, but boy, did Coriolanus desire this version of her. He saw her in that moment, standing mostly nude in his bedroom. He saw her for the first time for what she was. She was real. [Y/N] was a real person made up of a mess of contradictions. She was a very calculating person. Coriolanus saw that ruthlessness and that icy deadness to her. That was exactly the thing he thought he could love the most about her.

“Freak. What else can you do?”

“I dunno. I just… Do what gets me ahead. Don’t we all, Coriolanus? And, uh, when I see someone I don’t like, instead of saying ‘good to see you’ when they say ‘good to see you,’ I say, ‘yes! To see you!’ And I kind of mumble so it’s not obvious that I’m incapable of saying ‘oh yeah, nice to see you.’ You know I hate pleasantries.”

“Freak,” Coriolanus repeated with a smile. “No pleasantries then, get on your knees.”

[Y/N] walked the few steps towards towards the pillow he had thrown down and sank to her knees on it. She was clumsy when she was drinking, Coriolanus thought. More often than not, she was violently ungraceful more often than not. Coriolanus had rarely seen her be graceful at all. He liked that. He thought he’d moments of clumsiness and carelessness were alluring. [Y/N] looked helpless to him sometimes and he admired that. He wanted to be the thing that held together her broken and unsure nature. He thought of all the things he might have to help her accomplish in their future shared life together.

Coriolanus could see himself reaching easily for things she could not reach in the kitchen. He could see her being unable to lace up her winter boots due to the tightness of her dress, so he would get on his knees and do it for her. If she tripped on the sidewalk, he would pull her to her feet. If [Y/N] was too drunk to get up the stairs, he would carry her. When some strange man dared to look at her the wrong way, Coriolanus would kill him. She seemed so fragile and needy to him. Coriolanus loved that.

He needed her to need him. He wanted to be the only thing she ever need.

She was to be his.

“Stop looking at me,” She said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wow, that kind of talk really gets me hard.” Coriolanus walked towards her, undoing his black leather belt and tossing his coat on the floor. She thought about the amount of excess he would afford her if he cared so little for his own possessions to leave them on the floor. [Y/N] thought about her own position on his floor briefly.

“We agreed no pleasantries.”

“Come on, you’re going to be mine for the rest of our lives. At least let me look at you.”

[Y/N] tipped her head down with a frustrated sigh. He stared wolfishly at her as she knelt half-bare on his floor. She couldn’t help but blush at how exposed she felt. [Y/N] felt more on display and exposed in front of one man, the man she was to marry, than she did in front of every guest at the party earlier in the night.

“Don’t look away from me,” Coriolanus said firmly. “Those eyes are too beautiful to look at the ground like that.”

She looked back up at him begrudgingly, her eyes wide with fear, or lust. She had no choice but to watch Coriolanus popped open the button of his trousers open. [Y/N] could see the imprint of his dick against his thigh. He rubbed himself through his pants for a moment. [Y/N] swallowed nervously. Coriolanus was a broad, imposing man. The size of his cock shouldn’t have been surprising, but her eyes bulged all the same.

Coriolanus pulled his cock free of his pants. Logistically, [Y/N] was officially concerned about offering the blowjob. His long cock was what her the rest of her life looked like. She would surely have to get used to it eventually.

Without hesitation, [Y/N]’s mouth fell open as he approached. Her hands instinctually gripped the back of his thighs. Coriolanus, after loosening his tie, buried his hands in her once elegantly styled hair and forced himself down her throat.

Coriolanus moaned through gritted teeth in sync with [Y/N]’s gag when she took him in. There was little chance of taking all of him down her throat at once. Unsurprisingly, Coriolanus fucked hard and fast. Brutally so. [Y/N] hardly had a chance to breathe through her nose. Fortunately, at least, Coriolanus did all the work by maneuvering her face up and down on his length. He regulated the tempo and the pressure. All [Y/N] could do was try to swallow and hollow her cheeks out as best she could. Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you, echoed in her mind.

Tears ran down her cheeks. Real ones.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Coriolanus grunted after several moments. [Y/N] raised her tongue slightly against him. Through wet eyes, she saw Coriolanus’ eyebrows lift and his forehead crease when she did. That was effective. “[Y/N]!”

The only sounds in the room after that were gagging and heavy breathing. Coriolanus’ breathing, not [Y/N]’s. She couldn’t remember the last time she was able to breathe, it felt like. She was really blowing for her life here, she could barely catch an inhale through her nose. [Y/N] felt herself get more and more lightheaded and she did all she could to keep her eyes open.

Quickly, she tapped the back of Coriolanus’ left thigh. It was universal symbol for this isn’t great for me. Coriolanus understood this signal loud and clear. He thought he would keep going, but almost immediately decided he would rather have a wife in one piece instead of a perfect blowjob and slowed his pace significantly. Like a good husband.

He got gratification from slowing down too, because he could see the relieved and grateful gleam in [Y/N]’s expression. Coriolanus had gifted her that relief. He was getting close.

“Swallow.” He choked out. [Y/N] turned her eyes up at him again to confirm his request. Coriolanus’ eyes were tightly shut. [Y/N] had no idea if this had been minutes or near an hour. Her jaw ached. She felt his cock twitch against her tongue as she sucked.

That was the last clear memory [Y/N] had that night. The build up of the alcohol that had been genetically modified to be strong enough to get one drunk faster, the stress, the sweat, the tears, the blowjob, the lightheadedness, the dancing, the fear and the anger all happening on one night culminated into a good old fashion liquor blackout.

She had brief flickers of memory instead of a picture of the night. She was unsure if Coriolanus had finished or not. [Y/N] vaguely remembered Coriolanus unhooking her garters and taking off her stockings. She could feel the clean sheet and duvet over her exhausted body. She swore she could recall Coriolanus’ arm over her her waist and his lips against her ear whispering something. If only she could remember what he said.

—

The next morning, [Y/N] woke up to the birds and the traffic noise. All of it sounded world-shatteringly loud. She felt sick to her stomach. What was that dreadful taste in her mouth? Her head pounded. Too much posca at her engagement party. Desperately, she wanted a cup of coffee. [Y/N] groped at the covers to drag them over her face to block out the morning light that filtered through the window.

Hold on.

As she pulled the covers over her head, [Y/N] realized these covers did not smell like her. They smelled of roses. That, and something else more metallic that lingered under the palatable rose smell. Coriolanus smelled like that. Coriolanus’ bed.

Buried in the comfortable duvet, she couldn’t bear to crawl out from under it. She was filled with panic. How had she ended up here? She could feel that Coriolanus wasn’t beside her, so where had he ended up? Had they slept together?

Had they slept together?

The phrase and all of its meanings bounced around in her head. Her hand slid down her body. She had no top on. That was a bad sign. Her hand continued further down her body and landed on lace underwear. She exhaled and let her hand flop back down on the bed. From another room, probably the living room, [Y/N] heard the phone ring. She wished it would stop. [Y/N] rose from bed with some difficulty.

It was clear upon standing up that the only thing that would make her feel better was vomiting. She dashed madly for Coriolanus’ en suite bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet, empty the contents of her stomach for a good couple of minutes. The pressure of her headache decreased afterwards, but the terrible taste in her mouth grew. [Y/N] flushed the toilet and stood in front of the mirror. She had never looked this bad in her life.

Dark ringed eyes, leaking leftover makeup and smeared lipstick, a bold hickey on her neck like a seventeen year old. What had she done?

[Y/N] grabbed Coriolanus’ burgundy robe off the back of his bathroom door and cinched it around her waist. She walked back through his bedroom. Her knees burned a bit with each step. Maybe from the heels she had worn the night before. Her eyes landed on the flat pillow on the floor right next to Coriolanus’ belt. This seemed like a bad omen.

Suspiciously, [Y/N] walked into the too bright hallway light. [Y/N] stumbled to her own bathroom and frantically brushed her teeth before facing Coriolanus. It hurt to hold her jaw open to brush her molars, but anything to rid herself of the salty, stale taste that had taken up residence. Finally then, she moved into the living room.

There was Coriolanus smiling on the couch like he was most mornings after some sort of party. His hair lacked product and lay rich and curly against his forehead. Boxer shorts and an open dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up left little up to the imagination about his body. He was so pale that he practically reflected the sunlight from the open window back at her like a mirror. Coriolanus was perfect, even first thing. How annoying.

“What time is it?” [Y/N] croaked hoarsely. Coriolanus nearly knocked his mug of bitter coffee off the end table in surprise as he reached for the remote. He abruptly clicked off the television.

“Eleven. There about,” Coriolanus replied, vocally calmer than his body would betray. He rose from the mauve couch and moved to [Y/N]. He ran his hand down the sleeve of his robe that she wore. “Is this mine?” He asked softly.

“Yes, sorry. It was all I could find. I’ll go swap it for—“

“Please. What is mine, is yours,” Coriolanus interrupted. “It suits you,” he said with a hand running across his own gold CSB monogram on the breast pocket of the robe she wore. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, I suppose,” but what she really wanted to say was ‘what did we do last night?’ “And you?”

Coriolanus chanced an animalistic smile. “Last night, you said no more pleasantries.”

[Y/N] scanned her brain for a memory of saying that. She did not remember that phrase specifically, but she did catch a lot more glimpses of her night in her mind’s eye. [Y/N]’s strongest images were her mother’s shocked eyes, the empty glasses of posca, Coriolanus with a red handprint on his cheek, and his hard cock at her eye level.

“Coriolanus, what did I do?” [Y/N] asked, realizing exactly what she had done.

“Which part?” Coriolanus asked cautiously, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close. Coriolanus wanted her to feel held and ravished for a moment since he knew she would go ballistic at what was on the TV, in the newspaper, and on the lips of everyone in town. She felt like a still from an old moving picture; being held like that.

“How bad?”

“Hm? Oh, your mouth was lovely—“ he tried to expertly redirect with an innuendo.

That assumption of what they had done had been correct. Damn. “No, shut up, stop. The… The TV, the news, the—“

“Do you want to know?”

[Y/N] felt like deflating. It must have been bad. She thought back to how he had turned off the television so fast when she walked in. “I… Will I like what I see?”

“How about we sit down, Darling?”

Coriolanus sat [Y/N] down gently on the middle cushion of the couch and folded his lanky legs into the seat to her right. She looked worried. Coriolanus hated watching other people worry, it was distracting for him and often created too many new problems. He swallowed down the urge to snap at her for pouting like that. He hated pouting too considering how unproductive it was. The blonde man reached his right hand out and used a pointer finger and thumb to tip [Y/N]’s chin up so she was forced to look him in the eye. “Hey,” he said calmly. “Any press is good press.” Coriolanus repeated their mantra from the night prior.

[Y/N] inhaled through her nose. “Any press is good press.” She agreed. Coriolanus nodded and pressed a dutiful kiss to her temple to praise her for that answer. [Y/N] stared at the dark and glassy TV screen. Coriolanus clicked it on.

A fuchsia haired newswoman sat behind a desk with the regular Capitol News studio set up for an morning gossip show. The headline was plastered on a chiron in the lower third of the screen: ‘SNOW HEIR’S GIRL OUT OF CONTROL.’ In the top right hand corner of the frame was a photo of [Y/N] sobbing on her knees in front of Coriolanus’ who wiped her tears. [Y/N] wasn’t able to listen to the grating anchorwoman who was speculating about whether or not Coriolanus should send [Y/N] to rehab.

Coriolanus watched [Y/N] watch herself on TV. He grew uncomfortable when he couldn’t automatically read her expression. He had prepared himself for some tears and a temper tantrum, but neither came.

“What are you thinking about?” Coriolanus asked her. [Y/N] was too still. She didn’t respond quickly. “[Y/N]?” Coriolanus nudged her with his elbow. “What are you thinking about?”

“The headline.” She finally replied.

Coriolanus bit his bottom lip. He kept his voice as level as she had. “Okay. What about the headline?” He asked.

“Well, it isn’t very good, is it?”

“What?”

“It’s too plain.”

Coriolanus narrowed his eyes. “It’s too plain?”

[Y/N] nodded slowly. She finally ripped her eyes away from the television set and looked up at him. “It’s informative, but it’s not eye catching beyond being alarmist,” She replied. [Y/N] pointed at the TV, smiling. “That’s my picture. That’s us up there, Coryo, and that’s the best headline they could come up with? It’s weak.”

Coriolanus couldn’t recall her calling him Coryo before, even when [Y/N] had heard it from friends, family and classmates. She was saying something. He should have been paying better attention, but [Y/N] looked lovely wearing his robe. “Coryo, are you listening to me?”

He wasn’t. Too bad. Coryo. “I got distracted, I’m sorry, Darling. You were saying?”

“I said, please get me a piece of paper and a pencil. I want to work on something better and call in a suggestion for a correction since obviously—Mmph!“

[Y/N] sentence was never finished. Coriolanus leaned in towards her face and slammed his lips against hers hungrily. Habitually, [Y/N] grabbed his biceps as they toppled flat back onto the couch. Coriolanus wasted little time pressing the tip of his tongue against her lips aggressively. He knew he gave into an open-mouthed makeout too easily, but it was so much fun.

Both pulled back after some time for a breath. “Coriolanus…” [Y/N] panted.

“Coryo, please. Nobody calls me that anymore.” He said, staring down at her.

“Coryo, I want a pencil and a piece of paper.”

“You’re crazy. You want to call in a correction on a story about yourself because you want to make it worse. You’re beautiful. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Then tell me some more after you get me—“

“Not yet,” Coriolanus said. His hands untied her robe like she was a gift box. The best present to come out of this engagement party, certainly. “[Y/N], do you know what you did last night?”

“A few things, at least.”

“Very funny. I mean…” Coriolanus sighed. His hormones raced. He could barely make eye contact with her since his eyes were drawn elsewhere. “I mean, you bulldozed your whole life. You Thirteen’d your life off the map.” he said. She nodded. She shivered at the reality of his statement. [Y/N] had nothing left but ashes. She had burned almost every bridge she had.

Except him.

“Not the part with you,” [Y/N] said. She smiled. She said it to please Coriolanus and it seemed to work. He was much easier to play than she thought he was. “You’re all I’ve got left, Coryo.” That was absolutely true. For better or worse, Coriolanus was inevitable.

“Let me take care of you,” Coriolanus said. “You’re about to be my wife. There’s no one else you need. You’re mine. I’m not going to let you fall through the cracks.” He said.

“Promise you won’t?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Coriolanus said honestly, but he didn’t feel strongly enough to really promise. “Do you like these panties?”

“Yes.”

“Shame. I’ll buy you a new set.” There was a horrible tearing sound and after that, Coriolanus’ mouth was on [Y/N]’s pussy. He licked and sucked for all he was worth.

[Y/N] did not expect Coriolanus to be good at this. All this time, she had disallowed him from touching her because she thought he would be a selfish lover. There was still potential that he was, but fuck, Coriolanus sure was good for this. His long thin nose bumped her clit as he pressed his tongue deeper into her folds and she moaned. Her hands sank into his curls.

“Don’t touch my hair.” Coriolanus said into her cunt.

“No,” She said, pulling on his hair. Coriolanus was irked, but let her do it anyway. He had never felt pleasure from someone tugging his hair like that before. [Y/N] wrapped her legs around his shoulders. Coriolanus used his strong, callused hands to hold her thighs open. He was going to make her cum with only his greedy mouth, like she had for him last night.

Quid pro quo. That was the nature of their whole operation, Coriolanus realized. It was fine by him.

It was still early and Coriolanus had the day off. He was ready to make up for lost time. He was going to make her cum in every room of their home. Coriolanus was addicted to her taste. He was addicted to her mind. All of this felt cloaked in danger; it was too personal for Coriolanus. Oh well.

By day’s end, [Y/N] wouldn’t be able to climb out of bed for a couple of days on her own. Coriolanus’ constant tongue-fucking pulling orgasms from her had turned her brain to mush, but not before she was able to force Coriolanus off and jot down a few headlines of her own while he marked up her neck.

‘GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE: FREAK OR FOOL?’

‘CAPITOL’S GOLDEN BOY FALLS FOR BAD GIRL.’

‘ALLEGED CHEATING SCANDAL SHAKES CAPITOL YOUTH.’

‘GAMEMAKER WALKS OUT THE VICTOR AFTER PARTY DISASTER.’

‘’WEDDING IS OFF’ SPECULATES PLINTH FAMILY.’

‘GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE LIES, CHEATS AND STEALS THE NIGHT.’

‘SNOW’S FALLING (STANDARDS).’

Half of her ideas dripped as moans while Coriolanus worked on her pussy. She was weak enough to do little more than pull his hair and try to clench around whatever he pushed into her. [Y/N]’s orgasm-addled mind finally comprehended that Coriolanus made her better. He made her more creative, bolder, and free from every burden except him. Finally, willingly, [Y/N] gave Coriolanus the last thing she had to give: Herself.

It felt fucking incredible

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely

apologies again for the tags that did NOT work.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games #the hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #ballad of songbirds and snakes #truculent series

985 notes · View notes

inbarfink · 5 months

Text

So the thing about Tak’s Holo-Disguise is that it specifically might not be an example of Tak using more advanced technology than Zim.

The implication in “The Nightmare Begins” is that Zim maybe also have access to Perfectly Realistic Human Disguises, probably similar to Tak’s Hologram - but he intentionally rejected them because he saw them as too ugly. He deliberately chose his shitty little costume because he thought that was the only one that looked ‘good’.

And these terrible disguises are also pretty consistent with how the actual official Invaders disguise themselves. If anything, Zim’s got the best costume of the lot!

So with Zim dismissing the more realistic disguises as being ‘ugly’ and ‘stinky’ and those being… basically the most common insults he throws at humans. ..I think the implication here is pretty clearly that Zim’s (and the actual Irken Invaders’) disguises are bad because he doesn’t want to look too human because Irken Imperial Indoctrination has taught him every other species in the universe is revolting and so he cannot stand the idea of looking too match like the people he is trying to infiltrate.

So it is interesting that the one Irken who actually uses their advanced technology to actually look like another species is Tak. Maybe she’s just being a bit of a show-off overachiever. So driven by the need to prove how competent of an Invader she can be she decided to suffer through the indignity of Using a Competent Disguise.

Or maybe there’s sort of an implication that Tak doesn’t really buy into Irken Ideology that much?

Like, obviously, she’s not, like, some sort of anti-Imperial pro-alien advocate or anything. She’s still trying to gain the respect of the Tallest, she still wants to become an Invader, she is still willing to sacrifice an entire planet in order to achieve her goals.

I’m thinking more, like, Zim is 100% a true believer in Irken Imperial Ideology. He wants to be an Invader at least in part so he could use his ‘amazingness’ to contribute to the conquests of the Irken Empire. And he legitimately believes the Tallests are superior beings worthy of his admiration. And he legitimately believes Irkens are superior to all other sapient beings in the universe in general and to humans especially.

Meanwhile, Tak’s main goals might just be to gain as much power and prestige as she can - no matter what or who stands in her way. If she lived in a society that valued dentists above all she would’ve become a dentist. But she was born in the Irken Empire, and the most prestigious not-height-dependent position available to her in Irken Society is the one of an Invader, so that’s what she dedicated her life to. Not out of any ideological commitment to help the Empire's conquests.

She tries to gain the Tallests’ favor because she knows she needs them to get ahead in life, not necessarily because she craves their tall, superior approval the way Zim does. She can kill a lot of non-Irkens on her way to ‘greatness’, but it’s more of a general callousness towards other people - rather than loyalty to the superiority of the Irken people.

That might also explain why she’s the one Irken with the sense of individuality to customize her uniform

And design her own version of the Irken Empire Flag, based on her own look.

Because maybe she’s not trying to serve the Irken Empire, maybe she’s just trying to serve Tak.

#invader zim #iz #zim #zim iz #iz zim #iz analysis #irken #zim invader zim #tak invader zim #tak iz #invader tak #iz tak

602 notes · View notes

vivi-the-goblin · 2 months

Text

Just thinking about the poetic nature of the Gith

Originally, there was just one species that broke free of the mindflayers and turned to bloody rebellion. In the aftermath the Githyanki (those who follow Gith) formed a new militaristic culture based on their inherant superiority, while the Githzerai rebelled against becoming like thier old masters and left (those who spurn Gith). The Githyanki live in the Astral Sea, a place where nothing ages or changes unless change is forced upon it. The world is vibrant, sure, and it IS constantly changing, but only through force and intrusion.

The Githzerai live in Limbo, a land of infinite chaos where even the fabric of reality might turn from air to bread to napalm in a second. It is only through massive willpower and active dedication that you can craft anything, and that needs to be actively and constantly maintained.

The Githyanki have not changed. They became their old masters. They have slaves of their own. They're coping with the scars of their enslavement by making sure THEY'RE the ones on top this time. Though they still identify themselves around wiping out their old masters, the system never fell. tyranny just gained a new face and explanation. The same face, the leader has been the same bloodline even since those times beyond measure, with the current one being an undead immortal ruling for thousands of years, unaging even when in places that do change. Githyanki are forced to occasionally explore to have kids and let them grow to adulthood. But they leave the encampment only to plunder resources, keeping the kids as secluded as possible and dragging them back ASAP to double down on indoctrination. Nobody moves on, and the youth who attempt to are met with force.

The Githzerai have changed so much they're no longer the same species, even if they are still externally recognizable. They left for a land where everything changes. However, through introspection and dedication to ensuring personal freedom, they thrive. Specifically, it's from their leaders giving up that freedom to eternally power their chunk of safety in the storm. Literally sitting in a sarcophagus for eternity, the death of self. You'd think would be horrible, given the whole point was escape from eternal labor and gaining freedom! But the difference is that it's willing, it's their choice, one they were free to make or decline. They chose to make a home others could grow up in safely, a place that would still remain for them even if they left for a time. These elders are also don't age...but they're the ones who came to terms with their trauma, fought, and decided to move beyond. They even lost the initial war, but persisted and kept working to break the system. And they do so by supporting those that come next, trusting they'll keep fighting to stop this cycle of oppression.

The Githyanki are conquering the stars but haven't really moved an inch. The Githzerai are living in an ever-moving and actively hostile world, but came to terms with themselves and their past and moved ever forward.. Beautiful.

...

I'm also thinking about how the Githzerai names a city Susanowo. Like the brother of Amaterasu. Like, in-universe named that after actual スサノヲfrom actual Japan. Because Earth exists, and the various gods USED to exist there. An old empire kept kidnaping people from Earth, and the gods followed their believers but got stuck. I keep running into bits of lore that tie into that and it hits me like a truck every time.

#d&d #dnd #githyanki #githzerai

226 notes · View notes

lamprophonia · 7 months

Text

》 [ yandere!Jock. ] 《

masterlist.

yan!jock x gn!reader: introduction. 1273 words. reader referred to as 'you'. cw for general yandere behavior.

DO NOT USE OR REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE.

elijah steele is the best goddamn actor in your school.

the theatre kids could learn from him, honestly, because there is no way in hell anyone else could have convincingly pulled off what he did: pose as the nicest, most helpful and kind student in the entirety of the sorry shithole that is eastview high for four years straight.

to literally everyone, elijah is so sweet it's almost vomit inducing. the school's golden boy — smart, nice, strong. best player on the football team, co-captain of the swim team, and part of the basketball team for good measure, helpful, always cheery, and he got good grades.

even amongst his peers, he was always considered the most straight-edge one; still, he was pretty much universally liked. he was genuinely friends with everyone, never judging or turning anyone away.

what's not to love?

well, probably the fact that all of that is a lie, an ever on-going act. a carefully crafted persona, custom made to hide the fact elijah steele is a colossal prick.

it's honestly almost too easy for him. help teachers out here and there, talk to the right people, go to the right parties, and play on some teams, and boom, the entirety of eastview wrapped around your finger. he's made high school a game for himself, and he has been winning for four years straight.

elijah's obsession with you didn't kick in right away. he saw you and was... eh, rather neutral. he decided you were pretty enough, and homecoming or some other stupid dance he didn't actually care about was coming up, so he needed a date to look good. you were just a pawn, after all, no different from anyone else. an accessory — good-looking and non-threatening enough.

no, the obsession started when you rejected him.

worse than reject him: you saw through the finely crafted veil he's always putting on — through the smile that's as fake as it is charming, the tone of voice that's almost a bit too nice — you saw through it all, and didn't hesitate to let him know.

and oh.

it hurt.

with a few words and an unimpressed look, without even realizing it, you broke elijah's game. you weren't playing along. and hey, he might be a prick, but he's a prick with feelings. a lot of very conflicting feelings, as it turns out; he's dealt with rejection before, but never when it came to relationships.

he probably should have seen the hurt he felt when you rejected him as a sign of what was coming, that being the growing obsession he can practically feel developing. you made him feel something other than smug superiority and mild annoyance. it wasn't anything pleasant, sure, but it was new. the week after that little encounter of yours, you were literally the only thing he could think about.

at first, it was a mixed bag. elijah was confused, weirdly hurt — he discovered he didn't like feeling either of those much — and angry. mostly angry. that was the only emotion he was really familiar with of those three, so he thought he would be able to use it pretty easily. he does football after all, he'd just tackle whatever poor sods that were unfortunate enough to be going up against him in practice and get it all out of his system. easy, right?

it wasn't easy.

he nearly dislocated a guy's shoulder before realizing that his usual method for dealing with his feelings — channeling them into brute force — wasn't working, which only made him more confused, which in turn only made him angrier. so used to being in control, elijah didn't know what to do with himself for the first few days.

fortunately for him and the rest of the eastview football players, his anger, hurt, and confusion subsided after maybe a week and a half, giving way to another unfamiliar, but much more welcome emotion: fascination.

you still occupied his thoughts constantly, but he finally got a break from the all-consuming contempt he felt. instead, he regarded you with intrigue, a curiosity. it was then he decided he had to learn more; you were an obstacle, a challenge. another part of the game.

he just had to figure out how to beat you.

in some strange way, elijah was excited. this was going to be hard, sure, but his mind was already hard at work, and he was sure it would eventually be rewarding.

and hey, most importantly, this was new! his rage turned to pure goddamn delight at the idea of someone who finally isn't drooling all over him. it's so fun! like a specimen for him to study, aren't you, darling? finally, he has to work for someone's favour.

once elijah comes to this... decision? realization? he gets started pretty much immediately. he knows now that the overly sugarcoated golden boy persona isn't going to work for you. he's going to need a new strategy, and he's giddy to get to work on it.

with negative hesitation, he starts stalking you. honestly, he probably starts stalking you before he actually buckles down and starts trying to win you over; at some point in the bafflement that comes with you not immediately falling for him, he just starts to follow you around from a distance, almost absent-mindedly making notes on your schedule, your friends, class mates, teachers... he decides to double down after that, though, deciding that if he's serious about beating you, he's going to have to up his game.

that's when he starts actually following you home, taking note of your family and your behavior outside of school.

the second thing he starts doing is shadowing you outside of stalking. that meaning, he starts sitting with you at lunch, making friends with your friends, switches classes to have them with you, and joins your extracurriculars; and he does so with the most smug, shit-eating grin on his face.

he starts talking to you as if you were one of his friends, and even though you knew that elijah was probably less nice than he seemed at first glance, you didn't realize just how starkly different his real personality is from the persona he puts on.

elijah starts to treat you more genuinely, in a way. he talks shit about his friends to you, bitches freely about all his classes and coaches. it's a distinction that would feel sweet, if not for the cognitive dissonance that comes with watching him be all smiles with someone right after he told you he hates them.

because here's the thing — now that elijah knows you're not fooled by the overly sweet and helpful guy he pretends to be, that his polite golden boy act won't work on you like it does with everyone else; now, he can stop pretending.

it's freeing. hell, it's almost more fun that way.

he wants to win with all of his cards out on the table. every nice, kind he does to make you like him will be colored by that tension, that dissonance, that confusion.

of course, elijah would never admit it, but slowly, as he makes friends with you, his obsession with you turns romantic. his intrigue turns to sincere care and affection. he doesn't realize it until he sees someone flirting with you — or worse, you flirting with someone — and jealousy hits him like a fucking brick.

he's left to collect himself, once again feeling hurt, angry, and confused at his own thoughts. he didn't even like you. you were supposed to be just a game, a challenge, an obstacle.

what the fuck was happening?

#🏅 // e. steele #writing #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere oc

814 notes · View notes

anjelicawrites · 4 months

Note

Hello! May I request a pvert!michael gavey x reader being roommates and their power goes out during a winter storm so they have to share the bed for warmth and things gets pretty steamy in the shared bed... thank you!

Hi nonnie! This came out far longer than what I thought it would be! I hope you like it!

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Warnings: reference to Michael x the agoraphobic girl, kissing, scratching, fingerfucking, p in v sex, dry humping, Michael being a bit darkish at the end.

The start of your second year in Oxford had been horrendous, from having to switch from your college to another, while all your friends remained there, to having been moved where that asshole Michael Gavey lives.

You should have nothing against the guy, you two have more things in common than almost all of your peers, yet you find him the personification of everything that irks you: the flaunting of his, admittedly, brilliant mind, his superiority complex and his complete disregard for social norms. His reasons for not liking you are a complete mystery.

You two try as hard as possible not to cross paths with one another, luckily enough your two degrees have just one class in common and you don't study in the library he goes to, preferring to walk a bit further and be with your friends. Even in the common room, you and Michael have managed to not to stumble upon one another, synchronizing your schedules so that, whenever one is using the room, the other is somewhere else.

Obviously the universe has to play another one of its sick tricks and disrupt the, fragile, harmony of your life, in the form of: the worst snow storm of the past ten years, the power going out and you struck in the college with him. Everyone is out for the weekend, but you and Michael, having both to study for a mid - semester test for the only class you two share.

You know he has no friends, not since Oliver Quick decided that hanging out with Felix Catton and his people was far more entertaining than the ramblings of a math nerd and you feel like Michael has dodged a bullet there, you don't know why. You are on your own because all your friends are on a week - end trip to London; you would have been there with them, if only the professor hadn't decided to be a bastard and move up the test date.

Your chagrin notwithstanding, you had a plan, which consisted of: sealing yourself in your room, heating turned to the max and study all day so you could watch some telly the night, or read one of the new books you bought and didn't have the chance to open, yet. A splendid plan indeed, which worked perfectly on Friday and is crushed on Sunday, when the electricity stops working, all of a sudden, with a pop.

You lift your head, almost giving yourself a whiplash, when the lights go out, all of a sudden and you can't hear MTV in the background anymore.

"What the hell?"

Uselessly you try the switch on the small lamp on your table and try to turn on your laptop: everything is dead. With a curse, you wrap your fleece night gown around yourself, and venture in the hall, where you discover that all the lights are off. You lock the door behind you, not wanting to disperse the warmth accumulated, in case the heating dies as well, and venture to the common room which is, predictably, dark.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Comes from behind you and you jump around with a scream, hand clutching the robe. That fucking creep Gavey! There's some sort of power outrage and, of course, he's the only one around!

"Fuck you!" You pant, your heart is beating like a drum in your chest. "The feeling is mutual." He responds, his usual disdain in his voice.

Why in the name of all is holy does he hate you so?

You two stand in the dark, like two imbeciles, eyes locked, neither of you wants to be the one to ask the predictable question.

"Is someone else here with us?" You cave, in the end, sick and tired already of the whole situation.

Gavey stares at you, if possible, with even more contempt in his blue eyes.

"Afraid of being alone with me?" "No, you utter cretin. I was simply wondering if there's other students in the same predicament we are, or if the person in charge is around." "Everyone else is out and I haven't seen Mr. Collins."

You curse inwardly. As much as you don't like Michael, you two need help and are not going to find it in the common room.

"Let's go." Gavey turns his back at you. "Maybe he's in his office."

Begrudgingly, you follow him. You don't have that many hopes to find the man, it's too late, but maybe he's still around, because of the snow.

The light from the windows dwindles, forcing you and Michael to navigate the corridors and stairs carefully, until you two stand in front of Mr. Collin's office, the door locked.

You feel like banging your head against the wood, and you'd do it, if Michael weren't around.

"We need to contact him. Let him know of what's going on." You say, dejected. "Do you still have the information package given to you when you moved here?" "Yes, sure. Don't tell me smartest nerd of his cohort lost his!"

There's disdain in your voice but, hey! Not once he's ever been nice to you, why should you?

"Mine is in the drawer of my desk, in my room, on the last floor. Do you truly want to walk there in complete darkness?"

You're glad there's almost no light, or he'll see the embarrassed expression on your face: how is it, that you always manage to pass for a dimwit when you're in his presence?

"How do you know where my room is?" "You said it yourself. Smartest of his cohort. Now, shall we go?"

You want to punch him, you should punch him, maybe sheer, brute force will make him stop treating you like an imbecile.

"Since you know where I live, I hope you can make your way in this darkness. I am not waiting for you."

On purpose you slam your shoulder against him when you walk down the hall: you can't stand him and why are you struck in whatever this is with him?

You two walk in silence, fingers brushing against the paneling on the walls to keep a steady course, feet treading carefully on the stairs as you two descend in the creepy silence of the deserted college.

You have to try a couple of times, before you manage to open the locked door, the warmth, still trapped in the room runs a shiver down your back: you hadn't notice how cold the building is. Luckily enough there's isn't many trees outside your side of the building and the light can stream through your windows, helping to illuminate your room and the snowy, lunar landscape outside.

You head towards the bookcase near your desk, you're pretty sure you've stashed the college information booklet with all the random bits and bobs in the box on the top of the bookcase. You have to grab the chair to hoist yourself up and go to your tip toes, since the cardboard has been pushed all the way back.

"What a nice burrow you've made for yourself."

Again, Michael's voice makes you jump out of your skin and almost fall off your precarious perch. With one hand around the box, you turn to see that creep walk leisurely around your small room, his fingers touching gently your possessions; he scoffs at the fairy lights you've hanged on the wall behind your bed and he has the gall to open the wooden box where you keep all your different teas and take a sniff! You're torn between surprise and rage at the way Michael feels entitled to touch your belongings, it's like he's leaving a stain everywhere his hands touch.

"You made yourself home." He says, with that note of pity and contempt he seems to reserve for you and you only. "This is my home, Gavey." You retort. "Yes, I have noticed. Mirrors your...personality."

It's the way he says it that makes your blood boil. Yes, you like to have stuffed animals and pretty pillows on your bed! You have your small breakfast nook and use it during the weekends, when you don't have to rush to class! And yes, you are the kind of basic bitch who loves fairy light and cute animal gadgets! What is wrong with that?

"If you don't like it here, you're free to climb up your tower and contact Mr. Collins on your own!"

This seems to sober him, you reckon he doesn't want to face the chill and the pitch black of the corridors.

"Have you find it?" There's still contempt in his voice, at least he's stopped touching your belongings!

You don't answer, you simply jump down from the chair, booklet in hand.

Your mobile phone sits on the desk. In the sea of bullshit that today has been, at least the battery of your Nokia is still full and the light of the screen is bright enough to illuminate the booklet. Michael stands by your side as the two of you are bending over the desk, busy with finding the phone number you two need, maybe he's too close to you, but you don't notice it, worried as you are by the whole situation.

Mr. Collins answers the phone and is of no help.

"The blizzard damaged the power lines." He says over the terrible connection, his voice fills your room. "They're working on the issue but there's no saying how long it's going to take!" "We can't just sit in the dark for days!" You say, trying not to sound too panicked. "Not days, love." Mr. Collins tried to soothe you. "Probably the whole night. Do you have enough blankets and a duvet?" "What for?"

You and Michael stare dumbly at one another, then a terrible realization hits the two of you.

"The heating system is electronically controlled. With the power down, the furnace stops working for security reasons."

You want to scream. Mr. Collins sounds so calm and controlled, probably sitting at home, heating on, while you're struck in your room, which will become unbearably cold during the night. Michael curses.

"Who's with you, love?" "Michael Gavey. We're the only two people in the building." He answers. "Look after one another, my boy." Mr. Collins says. "The furnace has already shut down but it will take a while for the heath to dissolve completely. You two should be fine, as long as you keep your doors closed and use all the blankets you have."

When the conversation ends, you turn your head to look at Michael, who is hovering over you, even with his back partially bent over the table, one hand planted next to your phone. Being so engrossed with the problem at hand, you just realize how much in your personal space Michael is and, is he smelling your hair?

"What?" He asks and looks genuinely surprised at your cross expression.

You take a deep breath. The poor lad, as off putting as he is, is in this sinking ship with you and you are a grown ass person who doesn't take their frustrations on another person. Michael was probably standing too close to you, but you two have bigger issues to face.

"Nothing. I simply hate all of this." "Me too."

Yes, he's definitely invaded you space, but he looks miserable in his too thin jumper and this situation is not something neither of you know how to handle. As Mr. Collins said, you two should look after one another.

"Do you have enough blankets?" You ask. "I have my duvet. Why?"

You are not surprised: the guy carries his stuff around in a crumpled Tesco bag, he probably doesn't care about buying pretty things for the sake of it, like you do.

"I was thinking about how cold it's going to become in a few hours. Are you going to be all right up there?"

You can't read Michael's expression in the dark room, the moonlight streaming through your windows has panted a mask on his face.

"I should be." He shrugs. "Warm air travels upwards." "Are you sure?" "The laws of physics don't change."

If he's trying to be a smart ass, he's failing. He looks awkward, standing with his arms down his body and the striped pants he's wearing, harmless and absolutely incapable of looking after himself. He's probably as worried as you are, but he's not letting you see it, you two are not friends and you two have to navigate this problem alone, no adult in sight to take the reins.

"Help me Michael." You say.

You know you're going to regret what you are about to propose, but you are not an asshole, not even towards him: the power outrage is far more important that you two not liking one another for whatever stupid reasons.

You grab the chair and put it near the wardrobe, before hoisting yourself up to grab the box you keep there.

"What are you doing?" He sounds surprised "Just take this!"

The box is heavy, your arms tremble with the effort to keep it over your head, while you turn around. With a huff you give it to Michael, who has to take a couple of steps back when he realizes how big the thing is.

"What do you keep here? Stones? The bodies of your enemies?"

Jesus Christ, you think, he doesn't know how to crack a joke to save his life!

You don't answer and direct him to put the cardboard box on the bed, where you proceed to open it, before starting pulling out all the blankets you've stored there.

Michael stares at you with genuine surprise on his face, not that you're looking at him, engrossed in emptying the box before you two die of hypothermia.

"You do like to be cozy!"

There it is again, the judging tone. You should kick him out of your room for it.

"Michael, don't make me regret the offer I am about to make." "Which is?"

Again, the moonlight doesn't offer enough light to read his face and he's standing too close to you for comfort, but you tell yourself he's socially inept and there's little else you two can do now.

"Let's share the bed. We can put all the blankets on and wait until the power comes back."

He stays silent for such a stretch of time that you don't know what to think.

"Did you make this?"

His fingers curl around the first crochet blanket you ever made. The thing looks crooked and it's not a perfect rectangle, but it was the first piece you ever finished on your own.

"I've picked up knitting and crocheting last year." Why do you feel like you have to justify yourself? "It's a grandma hobby" "At least I have blankets. Do you want to go freeze in your room?"

Michael doesn't answer and starts spreading your collection of throws and quilts on the bed.

"It's still a grandma hobby." He reiterates. "At least I have a hobby. What do you do in your spare time?" "Read books about maths." "I might be a grandma but you are boring." "Mathematics is not boring!" "I said you are." "At least I don't have the same hobbies my nan has." "That's rich coming from the guy who dresses like his grandfather!"

You two finish preparing the bed bathed by a dense silence. Why does he have to be an asshole all the times? You've extended your hand to him and he has the balls to shame you for what you like to do in your spare time! You hate when intelligent people act like they're entitled to be rude. You are not MENSA material the way he is, but you are brilliant and are always nice to everyone, even to him! He should, at least, do the same! Not touching your things without your permission and not even say that he's sorry! Instead, he is laying in your bed, warm and cozy, under the covers you've made with your 'Grandma hobby'. He's such an asshole and you hate that, of all the people in your college you are in this mess with him!

The bed is not made for two people to share, which means you two have to lie closer than what you'd like, good, because you two can share body warmth, bad because it feels strangely intimate. You've had your sexual experiences, a couple of times you've woken up in a stranger's bed, fuzzy on the details of how you've managed to get yourself there, none of the experiences ever felt as weird as trying to fall asleep with your back to Michael, who is attempting to arrange his long limbs in order not to touch you.

With all his moving, Michael is driving you insane and has already kicked you by mistake in the shins.

"Are you done?" All the pity you felt for him has already flown out of the window. "I can't find a good position." "Me neither! But I'm not squirming like a pinned worm!" "Well then, I was trying to avoid this!" He stops moving about, letting his legs fall against yours and one arm attached to your side. "Happy now?"

He sounds exasperated.

"At least I can try to sleep!" You answer, already done with him: this is the last time you are nice towards him, from tomorrow he gets treated like the asshole he is, power outrage be damned!

It's the cold that awakens you that, and the raging erection against your arse.

You don't know what time it is, having left your mobile phone on the table after the call with Mr. Collins. It's probably the middle of the night and whatever issue the blizzard has caused, hasn't been resolved yet.

"What the hell, Gavey?!?"

You kick him in the attempt to distance yourself from his cock and he wakes startled.

"What happened?" He stares owlishly at you, his glasses folded on the bedside table. "Check your pants, that's what happened!"

He doesn't move for a second and then simply readjust his position to keep his hips away from you.

"Not my fault." "You can, at least, say you're sorry!" "What for? I don't control my dick!" "Oh bollocks! You should say you're sorry anyway! I didn't want to wake with your cock against my arse!" "You got your panties in a bunch when I was trying to find a good position! Now you're angry because I have an erection. Check your priorities and this would have happened with anyone, by the way!" "As if you've ever slept with thousands of people!" "I've slept with more girls that you did!" "Somehow I doubt it!"

Oh, the look of surprise in his face is worth being awake, in the cold, because of his cock. Not to brag, but you've had your experiences with girls as well, since you've enrolled into Oxford. You're still unsure if you like boys more, but you're pretty certain your body count is far higher than his.

"You should do something about it."

He sounds angry now, why? Gone is the surprise on his features, replaced by a darkness that makes you distance from him.

"What do you mean?" "If my hard on is such an issue, you should do something about it."

OK, you think, what is happening all of a sudden?

"Go do something yourself!" Despite the cold you can feel burning embarrassment spread all over your body. "I'm not the one fussing about it." His big hand curls around your wrist to tug at it. "You are. It's only logical that you do something about it."

You lie frozen on the spot. You would have never expected the night to evolve this way, for your act of generosity to become this.

"What are you going to do, Gavey? Force me?"

You try to put on a brave front, knowing full well that you could never stop him if he decides to take advantage of you; he's scrawny, but stronger than you are.

"No. You'll just have to fall asleep with my hard cock next to your arse. Not that I am complaining."

The slap resonates in the silent room, your hand stings where it connected with his cheek.

"You're a pig, Gavey!" "Hit me all you want." He responds calmly, turning his head to face you. "It doesn't change that you're the one embarrassed, not me." "You have no shame, haven't you?" "I didn't decide to wake up with an hard on, I'm simply not making a tragedy out of it, like you are!" "I'm not!" "Then why are you playing the shy virgin? Haven't you slept with more people than I did?" "You wish I slept with you." You retort.

He eyes you trying to assess your curves hidden by the layers of fleece you're wearing and then scoffs.

"Don't get your hopes up. There's plenty of hotter people out there." "But you want me to wank you." "Only because me having an erection offends you. With that gone you can stop clutching your pearls." "Oh, now you're in for it, Gavey!" You Grab him by his horrid jumper to pull him closer to you. "Stop painting me like some sort of blushing prude!" "Make me." He says.

In the darkness you can't see how enlarged his pupils are, but you can feel his cock swell when his hands pull your hips closer to his.

You know you should let all of this go, laugh in his face, perhaps, and then try to sleep, but you've never been able to refuse a dare, never in your life you had ever backed down from a fight, you're not going to start now, not with him involved!

You crash your lips against his, kissing him aggressively and he responds with equal ferocity, one hand in your hair to keep your face slanted against his. He bites down your lower lip and you moan, hips kicking against his erection, while his tongue invades your mouth, possessive in his attempt to make you submit.

You're not letting him have all the control, not when you can curl one leg around the side of his hip to ground your cunt against his erection, forcing him to cease his attack, his head turning to the side, a long whine escaping his pretty lips. Why do the assholes have the loveliest mouth and eyelashes?

You turn him on his back, your hips working his, your cunt sliding against his trapped erection: you want him to come into his pants, you want to punish him for being such an asshole. Shame him, even!

You pin him on the bed, your hands on his shoulder so you can ground faster against him, your cunt wet and safe in your pants as he moans and tries to buckle under you, his torso tries to arch when you get the angle perfectly and reduce him to his baser instincts, to his rough cock trapped under layers of clothes, the pain of it sliding against the cotton of his briefs and the pleasure curling at the base of his spine.

He doesn't want to let go like this, like a schoolboy, but you've put all your weight on his hips and are grounding and grounding against his cock, your lower lip trapped between your teeth doesn't stop your whines when his head bumps against your clit, your pleasure becomes his and he comes in his briefs, panting and moaning, small whines of overstimulation when you don't stop moving. But your whole weight is not on his hips anymore, and that's your mistake.

His mind is still hazy, the pleasure you've subjected him to is like a cloud, but he's not going to have a better chance at getting the upper hand than now that you are breathless and moving lazily over him.

Like manacles, his hands curl on the meat of your hips and he turns you on your back and uses his legs to keep your nice and spread, his fingers slide inside under your panties to find your cunt.

"Let's see what we have here." His voice is still laced with the pleasure you've given him but holds an edge that makes you shiver. "You're drenched." "Says the pot to the kettle."

Two of his long fingers in your cunt erase any more smart comments on your part, his thumb on your clit has you moan and and arch under him. He's found that spot easily and bullies it mercilessly, the same way you did his trapped cock: you're going to come for him and then he's going to fuck you the way you deserve.

You grab at him, your nails scratching down his jumper, high pitched squeals of pleasure leave your open mouth, you look at him desperate, small tears gather at the corner of your eyes as his fingers fuck you faster and force your walls to accept their invasion, and he moans at the thought of your muscles wounding around his cock, sucking him in, strangling him.

"Michael!" You beg, your legs tremble, hips pumping fast to follow his punishing rhythm. "Come, now!"

You don't know what breaks you, his fingers or his thumb on your swollen clit, or maybe the command in his voice, the knot in your belly snaps and you come with a shout, back arched to the point of pain, eyes closed that don't see his dark expression.

You're trying to catch your breath, eyes still closed when you feel Michael's fingers at the hem of your pants as he tries to undress you.

"I'm too tired." You slur. "I'm not." One of his hands takes yours and puts it on his erection. "I'm not done with you."

Reflexively your fingers curl around his manhood, your brain truly realizing how well endowed he is.

"Do you have a permit for that?"

High on endorphins you has a terrible sense of humor, not that he cares, he wants your cunt, not your brain.

"I just need a condom." "Bedside table. Small box."

Michael stares at you, spread out and already fucked out on the bed, how beautiful and tempting you are, he only wishes he could see you naked, lick your skin and bite every inch of your body, until you beg him to stop, suck on your tits until they're bruised and your nipples over sensitive. Eat your cunt until you pass out and wake you up with his cock fucking you. He has to curl his hand around his base, or he'll come in his pants, again and he doesn't want to waste his erection like that, he wants you to milk him for all he's worth.

You're staring at him under your eyelashes, who would have thought that math nerd extraordinaire Michael Gavey could give you an orgasm that made your legs tremble?

He's pretty, you realize as you observe him bathed by moonlight while he rummages through the contents of your bedside table, long fingers and a shapely nose, a truly breathtaking chiseled face; if only his personality were better, he could have all the girls fawning over him!

"Oh Christ!"

You realize you've said it out loud when he smirks with one hand at the base of his impressive cock: he's going to split you in two.

"Pull your pants down." "I'm cold." You whine. "Bloody hell what a pain you are!"

He hasn't undressed, he has just pulled his trousers and underwear down enough to free his straining cock, you do the same and shiver: whatever heath the furnace had maintained, is now gone. You're grateful when he pulls the covers over your bodies, after he's made his way between your spread legs.

"Go slow, please?" His impressive manhood truly scares you, you've never had something that big inside of you.

He regards you with an unreadable expression. Part of him wants to punish you for the way you had made him come, but he wants you to enjoy what he's about to do or he'll never get a chance at doing this ever again, if he's hurt you.

"I will, relax."

He tries to use a gentle tone with you, something that doesn't come easy to him, the trust he sees in your eyes makes him want to make fun of you like he always does, but his cock is pulsating in his hand, it hurts and strains towards your wet cunt. Nice and slow, he needs to go nice and slow.

You whine when his broad head pushes inside your drenched hole, your hands instinctively go to his chest to push him away and he stops, letting you adjust to his size before he starts pushing in, short movements that open you up slowly with squelching sounds and moans of pleasure.

You sound better than any porn he's ever watched, all desperate, as if he's hurting you, your whines go to his cock, your muscles apply the perfect amount of pressure and he almost topples over the edge. He has to stop midway to breath and concentrate, a difficult task with your sinful hips moving slowly against him, your hole truly tries to suck him in, the way he had imagined. You want him as badly as he wants you and that excites him beyond belief.

He's so thick it feels like he's splitting you in two, yet your cunt hungers for him, your muscles clench around his him and you have to relax, let him open you up to his invasion, mold your cunt to accept his cock, feel every nerve spark with pleasure as he enters you and every inch of his manhood slides against your walls.

You arch your back when he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours as your last brain cell marvels at the way your hole has sucked him in completely: you're so full and stretched like never before that you'd purr, if you could.

A long whine escapes your lips when he bends forward to cage you with his arms, his eyes observing every small expression dancing on your features, the pleasure he sees only enhancing his desire.

His first pushes are short and slow, he testes your reaction and almost chokes on his tongue when your hips start following his, your muscles curling around his erection.

"Faster Michael, please!"

Your fingers find the skin of his back, your nails rake down his spine, the small pain spurring him on to fuck you with deeper and faster pushes, his lips hovering over yours, as he drinks down all the delicious sounds you are making, your cunt a squelching mess around his cock. He just needs to adjust his aim and he finds your g-spot, your whines make him bully it with faster pushes that have you squirm under him, your legs curling impossibly tight around his hips, his cock forcing your muscles to open, to take it like the whore you are, his whore.

You've lost control of your body, the only thing you feel is his massive cock in your cunt, pushing against your g-spot and his thumb on your abused clit, both movements fast and unforgiving as you try to beg for mercy, for pleasure, deaf to his words of praise and degradation, to him demeaning you for needing his cock, for liking the way he's fucking you. Nothing else matters but the pleasure burning through your nerves, but the coil in your belly that's curling and curling, until everything goes white and you come, the hold of your cunt so tight that Michael follows you with three deep pushes and a moan.

Michael is tired and wired up at the same time. His body is wasted, yet he can't fall asleep the way you did, all curled up against him, trusting and cute, with your hair around your head like an halo and one hand in his. Fucking the agoraphobic girl had been a great way to learn how to pleasure someone, if he has to go by the all the delicious sounds you made, sounds he wants to hear again and again, until whatever hold you have on him disappears. He knows he is not in love, he is not hardwired for that, but feels this unspeakable attraction towards you, this need to possess and consume you to his heart's content; the power outrage and him challenging you the chances he couldn't waste to slip through your walls and use your good heart and your pride to get to your cunt: you have been so easy to read from the moment he had started studying you like he would a mathematical problem. Now the real issue is to find a way to make this arrangement last, love or not, he's hooked on you and he's not going to let go, not until he's sated and can stop thinking about you and imagining you while he's having a wank: you've been the star of his spank bank from the first time he's seen you, despite your sunny disposition towards the word, the very thing that irks him. Michael knows he needs you out of his system in order to ignore you the way he does all his peers, having you as many times as he needs the only solution to the problem at hand. And you will, he'll make sure of that.

#answered #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey

380 notes · View notes

captainleviswifee · 24 days

Text

Having kids with Levi headcanons (Canon Universe)

Imagine having two kids (twins or not, both works) with Levi sounds all good and wholesome. Until you realize just how much you underestimated Levi's genes. Like damn, these are toddlers and you'd be all over the place just to watch them not hurt themselves playing. Mind you, these kids, are Ackerman kids. They have as much energy as their father. More so since well kids being kids. You'd have to match their energy or you'd be left in the dust. I don't mean that they'd be like monsters (maybe?), but they'll sure be a menace to babysit. And that's just for when you guys are at home. Imagine if you need to work. Just imagine if you guys are at a family outing in a park, where there's people around. God just pray that you won't lose sight of them the second you just try snack on something, talk to Levi, or just buy something in one of the stalls. You'd miss one of them, worse, both of them if you're the only one taking them out. If you're with Levi, well he's not perfect and there are definitely times for when he missed one of them or both of them. Immediately bringing them back to where you are or where you guys are supposed to be seated.

Unless well you turn out to be one heck of a goddess at babysitting kids then all the better. And this is why when the kids grew up to like five or older, more often than not. You and Levi would have to teach them how to properly behave. And as years pass, teaching them became a little harder, but it has it's own rewards. Naturally, as they grow older, methods on teaching them proper behavior adjust accordingly as well. Yes, I know Levi mentioned that "Pain is the best kind of discipline," but this is more likely because it's being applied, to Eren a soldier like he is, who also has a stubborn attitude. Not to mention, a titan shifter who's limbs regenerate like a lizard. That's him as a captain, as a superior officer. But he's a bit more gentle as a father. Especially as a father to his kids with you. He's stern, one quality that's never removed from him. Sometimes a little intimidating. And sometimes, you would be the balancer of sorts to his intimidating nature when teaching your kids to behave. It's a long process, but it works for both of you, Levi, and your little family with him.

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #captain levi #levi aot #levi x reader #aot #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi #levi rambles #levi headcanons #levi x y/n #!Dad Levi #dad levi #dadvi ackerman #dad!levi

209 notes · View notes

itsvelyria · 2 months

Text

"alternate universes w the f1 drivers"

Charles Leclerc

A tense atmosphere hangs in the still air of the conference room. The guards of the neutral faction glance at each other, be that in trepidation or anticipation, you couldn't give two hoots. If you had a little more presence of mind, perhaps you would have scoffed at the sight of such timidity. But your attention had been focused on one thing even before you stepped foot into the room - Leclerc, the commander of your universes' nemesis and your self-proclaimed enemy. Even as both your universes teetered on the brink of a cosmic conflict over some glowing orb of unfathomable power, you could see nothing but his equally unwavering stare boring into you. It was a battlefield of carefully chosen words and tempered anger, the kind you were terrible at, and a desperate attempt to find common ground in the midst of interdimensional tension. Memories of recent battles played like vivid flashbacks in your mind – your successful conquering of New York, and then counted with major loss suffered in the faraway battlegrounds of Thailand at his hands. The friction between you two mirrored the larger conflict, a reflection of the cosmic struggles that had engulfed your universes. Each word uttered by your superiors and his felt like a strategic move on a celestial chessboard, with the stakes higher than ever. The table, littered with holographic projections and tactical maps, became a battlefield of its own, an arena for diplomatic warfare. Amid the charged atmosphere, you two stood tall as commanders of your respective armies, your universes hanging in the balance, and the fate of countless lives rested on the outcome of this uneasy negotiation.

Carlos Sainz

You can't stop the sly smile from spreading on your lips when one of your maids discreetly places a charcoal-coloured envelope next to your plate. The conversation about the northern harvest abruptly fades as your eyes lock onto the crimson seal adorned with an embossed helm, an unmistakable insignia of authority. The seemingly simple package, however, emanates opulence, from the shimmering paper to the vibrant pigment of the wax. It speaks of a wealth only a king could possess - the Ruler of the Underworld, your husband. Beside you, your mother's disapproval is palpable, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the letter from your elusive beloved. Despite her repeated skepticism regarding the legitimacy of your marriage, a quiet rebellion has taken root in your heart, growing into a conspicuous flower that refuses to be overlooked. In a huff, your mother excuses herself, unable to endure the presence of the offensive missive on her table. Meanwhile, you handle the delicate task of peeling the seal with utmost care. The pages that spill out consume your entire morning, each carefully chosen word and artfully crafted sentence nurturing the burgeoning emotion within you, a fervent longing for the man. Tracing the signature at the end, the cursive letters spelling Carlos's name evoke the vivid memory of him signing his name on the palm of your hand that teary evening before your departure.

Danny Ricciardo

Your workshop is beyond cluttered. You know this. And on usual days, you don’t mind it in the least bit. But when you can’t find the only wrench that works, it is basically hell for you. You rifle through bags of nails and bolts, wondering if it is possible for a black hole to open at random to steal one’s only good tool. The plastic baggie of sequins that you bought to adorn Danny’s suit as a prank explodes as you toss it to the ground harshly, decorating the air with pink metallic confetti. Your hands pause over the table, eyes pressed closed in the hopes that your temper will settle itself magically. It doesn’t. But the door to your workshop does open, and the cheery voice of your partner asks if there is a party going on. You turn to him with the deadliest expression you can muster, telling him that you aren’t in the mood for jokes. “Will coffee help?” he asks, his unruly curls pushed up by the goggle on his head, holding up a mug. You feel the tension in you jaw loosen and nod, taking the metal cup from him gratefully. The amazing coffee smell wafts into the air as you open the lid and take a sip. He asks what you were looking for, already sweeping up the sequins from the floor as you collapse into your stool to enjoy the caffeine. You tell him in-between mouthfuls of the precious liquid. “I told you to keep your station clean,” he wags a finger at you in mock lecture. “And I told you I’d do it when you clean out your closet,” you shoot back bitingly. He sticks out a tongue at you as he dumps the collected sequins into the trash. Danny holds his hand out for the empty mug like he does on the coffee run he insists on doing for you every day. “Your wrench is right there by the way.” You swivel in the direction the pilot points, spying the goddamn tool right there beside the toolbox. A curse spills from your lips. “Love you too,” your boyfriend presses a kiss to your cheek as he leaves the door, already late for his practice session.

George Russell

The colossal estate towers over you in a show of intimidation, even more so than 17 years ago when you were deposited at the front door and it was introduced as your new home. Perhaps it was the fact that in the room with the round window on the second floor, sat the very man who had shaped you into the officer you were today, someone you would forever be indebted to and the folder in your hands had to power to ruin his life's work. Your feet propels you forward, the duty you were sworn to uphold taking charge over the fog that clouded your perception now. In the ancient study room, you greet your adoptive father whose eerily calm composure hints at his awareness of the purpose of your visit. And so you lay it out. The mosaic of the photographs and documents, the tangled threads of your past and his lay out in the open. Taking out the last photograph, you pause to study the profile of the man who should have been in your place, the cheeky look in his eyes and the impish charm glaring through the still image. You slide the photograph across the desk, utterly still as the man behind it scrutinizes it. The air hangs heavy with the unspoken words, the undeniable connection that lingered between you three, and imaginary weight of your disclosure pressing down on your throat at the very moment. You were well aware of the ruin that could be brought upon you with this discussion and yet you were still here, confessing the sins of his child to him. His response is stoic, the same measured tone that rings through your ears when you screw up. "Do what you must." The words hang over your head as you exit the manor, already on the phone with your superior officer for a warrant request for a George Russell.

Lando Norris

The daily Elemental assembly meeting was something you dreaded with a passion. 6 elements, all with wildly different personalities and priorities engaged in what you can only describe as immortal combat. Today's battle amongst the jewel-toned silks emblazoned with your crests was over the luscious piece of untouched land up north. You slammed your hands on the table as the Head of the Fire elements begins detailing the plan his council had drafted for the beautiful plot of soil. If he wanted to build a fucking heat machine, he could do it over your dead body. The unjustified stare he shoots you should send normal people back-pedalling into their opinions, except you were not "normal people". Unlike all the other heads here, you have had the terrible misfortune of being Lando's classmate all throughout your schooling years. It has been ruthless threats and one-upping each other since your first childhood memory. When he was elected head of his kind, you too were appointed leader of yours. And thus started a new chapter in your rivalry that continued to this present moment. You slam the car door angrily, muttering under your breath at the infuriating man and his stubborn opinions. "I thought we agreed not to bring work outside of the building." Your husband slides into the seat beside you, his scarlet orange suit blinding your vision as you shoot him a dry look. "Let's get lunch before my council meeting with the fire elders." The nonchalant tone rings through your ear drums and you feel it water down the rage that was blazing in you. "You have a community session right?", followed by "Shall we watch that movie you've been talking about tonight?" and the fire washes away completely.

Lewis Hamilton

Lewis doesn’t like this. The lumpy seats provide no support and the intrusion into his life is not something to just get used to. But it means he can continue to chase the dream of playing bass around the world, so he settles into the interview. Surprisingly, the interviewer was interested in more than his gym routine and the rockstar life, posing a question about his time in music school, more specifically the conservatory where he played the violin. And so, he recalls the late-night practice sessions and composing classes where is almost tore out all his hair, all his memories leading to the same person. The interviewer brings the topic to his final year showcase, the culmination of his studies and the last fond memory of sharing the stage with his favourite musician. “I understand you are friends with the pianist of the San Francisco Symphony,” the leading statement loaded with intention even as the interviewer shoots him her most brilliant smile. Lewis laughs. He can’t help it as he thinks of how you were probably watching this and spamming him with messages right now. He agrees with the interviewer, thinking of his confidante all the way in a different state at this moment, staying up late to watch the interview. “Just friends then?” The prompt sends him into a fit of giggles even as he answers. But he thinks of the flowers he sends for every single one of your performances and concerts, receiving a call from you afterwards with a selfie and he knows, that deep down, even as his lips define it as a friendship, his very soul knows it wants more than that with you.

Max Verstappen

You would kill Yuki one day. And if you didn’t, you would turn yourself a ghost and push him into a hole somewhere for ditching you at lunch. He knew damn well how you felt about being alone in a crowded Great Hall and the little spitball was still nowhere to be found. Damned betrayer. Gripping your books tightly, you wondered if it was too late to escape to the library. The sudden pressure around your wrist comes out of nowhere and you jump, instinctively glaring at the offender. Max releases your wrist at the sharp look and suddenly, you miss the warmth of his palm on your skin. You mentally slap yourself as you glance to the side and meet a familiar pair of eyes. Your sister sends a small smile in greeting, her canary yellow-trimmed robes rustling as she does. “I need a favor,” your friend poses the statement at you once the sharp look softens into something you won’t name. “What is it?” you ask, not trusting your voice. “Tutor me in runes tonight,” his reply comes instantly, though it sounds more like a demand. Your sister reacts to this by grabbing her boyfriend’s arm in confusion. “You are having trouble in runes?” Watching the exchange, you feel yourself inching away from the potential couple fight. What stops you, is Max turning to you and repeating the question. You can see your sister roll her eyes out of the corner of your mind and determining it as an okay sign, you agree before your brain can point out everything wrong with this scenario. You collapse onto the empty bench at your house's table, and like the devil he is, Yuki appears. At the sight of his happy beam, you are once again reminded of why you do not lunch alone.

186 notes · View notes

byizoyas · 8 months

Text

genshin impact ; drabbles

2023/byizoyas. — pls do not plagiarize or repost and claim as yours ! thank you very much

✘ nsfw. you get arrested by no other than your ex and realize how bad you both missed each other ✘ wriothesley x f!reader

content WARNING!! : genshin canon universe, implied cheating, cop!wrio, sensory deprivation, a mix of sex and feelings ig??

written before wriothesley official appearance therefore it might be ooc later!

‘come in’

after these words pronounced by a oh too familiar voice to you, the cop that had taken you to the police station opened the door.

it led directly into the ‘big boss’ office and there he was, sitting by his desk, staring at you as you took steps behind the cop.

wriothesley; the trustworthy cop, assuring the safety in fontaine.

wriothesley; the man always seen alone yet so appreciated by the community.

he, your ex, had not changed a bit. not that it had been years since you two last spoken but still, it felt as if your first kiss was the day before.

but it was not the case. it’s been months and you weren’t coming to him in a friendly way. you got caught for the stupidest thing you could’ve done and knowing that he would be the one in charge of your case made it sound much more embarrassing to you.

‘good evening y/n.’ he initiated conversation after the few seconds of awkward silence that made the three of you quite uncomfortable.

‘mh. hi.’ you stared back at him, trying hard to seem confident even though, truth was, you were still completely intimidated by his presence.

‘you can leave us. i will personally interrogate her.’ he said to his colleague; but since it seemed more like an order you thought he was his superior.

‘yes sir.’

he nodded his head, saying his goodbyes before leaving the room, closing the door slowly behind him.

‘take a seat’ he said, showing one of the two chairs in front of him.

you were alone with him now and since you knew you would have to reply whatever question he had to ask you decided to do as he told and simply sit, waiting for it to come.

but while you expected a regular interrogation session with him; he simply giggled while reading some papers that were resting on his wooden desk.

‘all of this is ridiculous.’ he stated. you genuinely wished you could understand what he meant by that; but it was way too vague for you to.

only after seconds of silence did he add another sentence. ‘your case is ridiculous. stealing your boyfriend’s stuff and burning it ? seriously ? is this some kind of joke ?’

you stared around you, carefully avoiding the judgy eyes that were fixed on your face now. the way he put it made it sound ridiculous indeed and you couldn’t believe how this would be the reason of your very first arrest ever.

wriothesley stood up, walking around his desk to sit next to you. the sudden approach made you even more nervous and as you started to think of your past actions he spoke up again.

‘so ? what happened for you to do this ?’ he asked. he seemed genuinely concerned. after all, he never once seen this part of you before.

‘he’s a cheater.’

you shrugged, still not looking at him as you felt quite awkward for the reason of all this. you didn’t control yourself but how could you ? that man hurt you and lied to you multiple times.

‘he cheated on you ?’ wriothesley asked.

at this point you asked yourself whether the question was still for his interrogation or if this was for his own satisfaction. after all you did dump him in a pretty dirty way.

you thought he could make fun of you for a bit if it made him feel better. but as you prepared yourself to receive harsh words from a past lover you broke the heart of; he simply caressed your cheek.

‘what a shame.’ his fingers were cold, due to his cryo vision and it did send a few shivers through your body.

he got up to go back to his armchair, reading through the several documents. but as he was really focused you couldn’t help but looking at him.

he, who was in the right position to make fun of you had decided to not do such; and instead even showed affection.

he heaved a long sigh and stared at you again. ‘you know all the work i’m gonna have to do only for your little revenge ?’ you didn’t notice before he took this annoyed intonation but he did seem tired already.

you got up from your chair all of a sudden, slowly walking towards him. ‘i’m sorry wrio.’ you said, eyebrows frowning, showing of sincerely sorry you were.

‘it’s fine, i’ll ask simon some help.’ he only replied.

‘n-no. i’m sorry for everything.’ you added to make it clear how you weren’t only taking of that stupid shit you did after a sudden pulsion.

wriothesley was a kind soul, a sweet boy to you, always. you didn’t quite remember the feelings that pushed you to break up with him before but you were certain of one thing; you never once stopped being attracted to that man.

and he was sitting right beside you now, obviously still having a thing for you. you weren’t usually so confident but you knew him by heart by now and his eyes never lied.

‘let me.. make it up to you perhaps.’ you said with a really soft voice as you kneeled between himself and his desk. you started things slowly by caressing his thick thighs.

‘would you like that ?’ you added. wrio didn’t seem to oppose to it since he even spread his legs a bit to give you a better access to his intimacy.

you started unzipping his pants, but he stopped you all of a sudden. ‘what exactly do you think you’re doing ?’ he seriously asked.

he pulled on both your hands, bringing you back on your two feet as he got up from his chair too. he was now facing you, eyes locked with yours and once again, it did not lie. there was this burning desire in it; he wanted you and you just knew it.

he pulled your hair, looking down on you for a few seconds before throwing you on the desk. I’m only a few seconds you went from standing awkwardly in front of him to laying down on his desk under his gaze filled with lust.

‘fuck.’

he wanted you, now you were sure of that and he wasn’t long to confirm it when he took off his coat and started undressing.

‘wait a minute. you’ve been a bad girl y/n.’ he spoke almost to himself with how low his voice was but you figured out he had to be this discreet since you were still on his working place.

he opened one of the drawers near and took some handcuffs from it, carefully placing them on your wrists.

‘unfunny.’ you said but if you were being honest with yourself you loved this little game of his.

he wasn’t usually that bold but it felt like a good surprise actually and you were very much into it.

‘stop looking at me with those eyes. i cannot focus.’ with that said he blindfolded you.

there you were. vulnerable. unable to touch nor see anything. you felt very unpowerful yet excited at the same time.

despite everything you still trusted wrio the same way than before and he would never do anything to hurt you.

‘what are you gonna do now ? wait and see ?’ you teased, trying to pull him closer with your feet since your hands were tied.

you felt a hand gripping your feet together.

soon after, his warm mouth was on your skin, kissing your leg up and down until he reached your sensitive zone. he gently bit your inner thigh, knowing how good this made you feel and the slight moan that escaped your mouth under the surprise confirmed it.

‘be quiet, or i’ll stop.’

so strict, you thought but didn’t say anything; instead focusing on keeping quiet because this man was about to please you and you needed it so bad.

you starts to think of his mouth rubbing your clit and licking it up and down and the only thought of it made you soaking wet down there.

wrio pulled your skirt and panties down, not giving a damn about what they were like and only focusing on pleasuring you for now.

he teased you a bit, rubbing the sensitive parts of your pussy and stretching your hole, getting you all ready for him. little did he know you were already ready and all you wanted now was for him to fill you up.

but wrio obviously wanted to make you a desperate, begging mess. and he was close to get you begging for his cock with all the tease.

‘wrio start fu-‘ you started to say but he cut you off, shoving two fingers inside of you. his fingers slowly rubbed your insides, searching for your the good spot to make you cum.

‘the way your pussy’s squeezing my fingers.. you craved this so bad didn’t you ?’ his low voice in your ears as he kept on fingering you good made it feel even better.

‘mhm.’ you nodded, not knowing whether he was looking at you or not; little did you know he only had eyes for you at this very moment.

his eyes were filled with both love and desire. he did miss it, he missed you. to be able to touch you again, to hear your moans again.. felt divine.

he wasn’t ready to let go of you. he wouldn’t let you go this time. whether you would go back with the piece of shit that called himself your boyfriend did not matter to him.

you mattered the most. suddenly he took his fingers off and kissed your pussy gently, alternating between licks and kisses which made you go crazy.

‘wrio, it’s so good’ you moaned. it took you lots of energy to fight back your loudest moans now because that man surely was good with both his fingers and mouth.

he fucked you better than any other man could. his tongue felt like heaven. his touch were all you needed. for a minute you forgot everything around you and it felt like your union was the only thing that imported.

wriothesley threw your legs above his shoulders and kept on eating you out while caressing your thighs gently. the mix of his hands and mouth on your body felt so good.

and as your eyes were covered; your feelings were so much more intense. you didn’t know if the euphoria mixed to the multiple orgasms wrio gave you were the reasons for this, but you realized now how deeply in love you were with him.

‘i’ve missed you wrio.’

‘i’ve missed you y/n.’

you didn’t know if the feeling was mutual but these words had another meaning to you. like a late confession.

‘fuck me. please. please fuck me hard.’

wrio chuckled against your pussy, sending a few shivers down your spine. ‘so slutty yet so polite.’ he whispered.

‘can i kiss you y/n ?’ he asked but in the end he stole you a kiss before you even got the time to reply. but the way you kissed him back made him confident that he did the right thing.

he pushed his tongue into your mouth, both your tongues rubbing together in a languid exchange that you both craved ever since this started.

as he put a slight distance between you two, interrupting the passionate kiss to unzip his pants and free his boner you replied to his semi provocation from just before.

‘so hot yet so shy.’ you both chuckled.

‘thank you.’ he added as he thrusted roughly into you, taking you by surprise.

‘ngh wrio~’ you only found to say, as if his name was the most beautiful thing in the world. and it didn’t have to be, it was already the only name you wanted to repeat over again.

wrio kept fucking you, slowly at first so you could get used to his size. after all, the man was big and you almost forgot about it but it all came back to you with these thrusts.

‘i love it when you moan my name. don’t blame me if i’m pushing a bit to hear it again.’ he whispered to your ears as he leaned over you. his naked chest was glued to yours, both your bodies grinding against each other.

the room was now only filled with these lewd sounds of sex but you were too focused on wrio’s actions to really focus on the noises you guys were making.

‘you’re beautiful’ wrio said on your neck, dropping kisses here and there and sucking on your skin while his cock kept thrusting in and out of you.

he wrapped his arms around you, hands gripping your ass to help your body following his pace, and he kept on speeding it. but you asked for it after all.. and all he wanted was to pleasure you.

perhaps then.. you would come back to him ? because all he did was thinking of you.

he loved everything about you. your body, your voice, your hair, your smile and having sex with you allowed him to have all of these at the same time in a way he absolutely adored.

the sex was good. actually, it was probably the best sex you’ve ever had in a very long time. you wrapped your legs around his waist, almost locking him to stay above you and inside of you.

‘i want you to cum in me.’ you shyly requested in his ears and it got him smiling.

‘what if i cum all over your body all night long instead ?’

‘sounds good..’ you replied.

the idea of fucking that man all night was really appealing and despite it being quite impossible since he was supposed to work; it didn’t stop you from painting the scenery of every position you’d like to try out with him.

a/n. - it was a bit RUSHED but since idk the char yet i didn’t want to make it too long as it’ll most likely be ooc haha.. but at least i wrote smth pretty good i think?? ITS THE MF HANDCUFFS ANIMATION THAT GOT ME CRAZY OKAY BLAME IT ON HYV.

#byizoyas.#genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin drabbles #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley smut

472 notes · View notes