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juniefruit · 4 months

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☆ bf werewolf chan ☆

☆ modern, non-idol au, established relationship. gn! reader except fem! in the nsfw part (specified with a warning)

☆ Warnings: regular werewolf shenanigans, idk pretty tame. lmk if I need to add something! not proofread, posting from the cafe where I just finished the smut portion :)

☆ Word count: ~1.5k

Super shy when he first tells you about the whole werewolf situation. He stumbles over his words and his face is red from embarrassment. But you give him your undivided attention, eyes full of patience and love. He confesses everything, his hand gripping your forearm and kneading the flesh for reassurance.

Finally, everything falls into place. All of his little quirks and mannerisms make sense now. The way he clings to you, how he insists you wear his jackets/hoodies, and so on. Oh, and the fact that he’s practically a human furnace. Cold hands and feet? Not with Chan glued to your side.

Knows that you're fully capable of holding your own, but sometimes he just can't help his jealousy or overprotectiveness. Can you blame him!! he just wants you to be safe and keep you all to himself. He never denies you of the things that bring you joy. He also buys you little keepsakes or trinkets that remind him of you. Holds your hand, waist shoulder, etc. in public. He has enough self awareness to know that extreme PDA is cringe, so he keeps it to a minimum unless something truly pisses him off and has to let them know you're taken.

Now that you think about it, his ‘stargazing’ trips always happened during a full moon. It annoys you that you didn’t catch on to it earlier. But what he does is far from stargazing. Him and the other pack members patrol the forest on the outskirts of the city for anything alarming or new. You had shown interest in these trips, but Chan promised he’d take you another day, one where it could be just you two, instead of having to deal with Chan’s buddies too. And he delivered. It was one of your favorite date activities now. It’s like the world slows down as the stars twinkle above the grassy meadow you’re laying on. Crickets chirp in the distance, and Chan’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders, providing you with a comfy headrest. There’s a blanket under you, too. Once in a while, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, eyes closed, smiling with content. He takes in your scent, nearly groaning at the delectable smell. His senses are still heightened more than the usual amount since the full moon had just passed a few days ago. You lay in the grass together until your eyelids grow heavy and tired, ready to whisk you away into a peaceful slumber. Chan pulls you up, helping you walk to the car and tucking you into the passenger seat. The rest is a blur, until you wake up covered by crisp linen sheets and soft huffs coming from the wolf boy next to you.

Big fan of the sense of smell. His heightened senses alert him immediately when you switch up your shampoo, lotion, or perfume. He gets so whiny if you use something different than usual. His fake annoyance doesn’t last long though, because in T-minus 5 minutes he’s bear-hugging you from behind, nose buried in the nape of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent that’s all his to enjoy.

His favorite candle has notes of pine needles, dried wood & maybe hints of vanilla or citrus musk. The pine reminds him of the forest & calms his senses. If he closed his eyes and imagined hard enough, he could visualize himself in the forest, moss and dirt beneath his wolf paws, and his tail swishing behind him.

One day, you brought it home and lit it in the living room. He loved it so much, it was never more than three feet away from him. He thanked you so many times, hugged you and peppered kisses all over your face until you were giggling. You insisted it was no big deal, it was just a candle after all. But to him, it was more. It was the fact that you had seen it at the store, and bought it because it reminded you of him. He was elated that you cared so deeply about him.

The scent of the candle hits him like a wave when he walks out of his studio room and finds you curled up on the couch, the latest trending novel in hand. He thinks you look beautiful; especially because you’re wrapped in a huge black hoodie of his.

As an alpha, his protective instincts run deep. He’s very selfless in this way; his lover and pack members always come first.

Super clingy!! He thrives on skin contact. Not only is it a way to leave his scent on you, it’s a form of intimacy. Sift through his hair or scratch his head or behind his ears and he’s turning into jelly in your lap, limbs sprawled out across your figure, humming and grunting with content.

Your honor, he's just a big puppy with responsibilites!!

As his mate partner, he trusts you enough to let his guard down and listen to his concerns. He’s definitely the type to talk at 2 A.M about anything and everything that comes to mind. He doesn’t even care if you’re half asleep, he just has to let it out. Of course, being the good girlfriend you are, you’re laid on your side, head propped up by your elbow and giving him the attention he’s craving (But he’ll never say it). He’s also the most vulnerable at this time. Channie Second-guesses his leadership like his life depends on it. Do the members secretly hate him? What if he’s not working hard enough? Nonsense, you tell him. Your reassurance makes him feel better, like all hope is not lost. He mumbles thank you’s and praise into the nape of your neck as he wraps himself around your backside and falls asleep to the steady beating of your heart.

Always takes your opinion into consideration. Not comfortable somewhere? Chan’s already leading you by the hand and heading home. He’s so good at reading body language because of his senses.

Needs people to know you’re his. Yes, he knows it's a bit silly since regular humans can’t smell pheromones. But! On the off-chance you come across a werewolf, he needs you to be protected. Definitely makes sure you’re wearing something of his, it doesn’t necessarily have to be clothing. It can be a bracelet, necklace, earrings or keychain.

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NSFW section! MDNI.

Firstly, his ruts. Kind of like a boy period, he has phases. First he’s super clingy and lovey, and then he ruins the mood with his own horniness. He has to convince himself that it’s okay!! It’s natural and you are more than willing to help. His ruts always bring out the more possessive and animalistic side of him. However, he’s always so gentle with aftercare, cleaning you up and feeding you until he’s ready to go again.

Soooo obsessed with the curves of your body. Big or small, doesn’t matter. He’s running his hands along your hips and up your waist until you’re squirming.

Marking!! Hickeys, bite marks, scratch marks. Both giving & receiving. He’s folding so quickly if you scratch his back, especially the hard-to-reach spots. Channie swears he’s never felt something better than the feeling of your legs wrapped around him and your hands gripping and scratching at his muscled back as you’re lost in pleasure. The next morning, he’s stood in front of the bathroom mirror admiring the pretty pink scratch marks cascading down the rippling muscles of his shoulders and back muscles. He tries his best to cook something edible and, to his surprise, it’s not half bad (again with the self doubt). He’s got an apron on but no shirt underneath, and boxers. He’s bringing you the plate as you’re in bed

Your pleasure is his pleasure. That being said, he can get off on your sounds alone. He can also spot fake moans, so don’t even try!! Also hates when you try to cover them up, like why are you denying him access to your sweet sounds?? Channie doesn’t care if you think they’re weird or embarrassing, what matters is that you feel good, and he’s providing that for you.

Chan needs foreplay. He needs to get in the mood, make sure he’s on his A game. God forbid he makes a mistake or hurts you!! He’d never live it down. Big fan of wet, messy kisses and sucking your tongue out of your mouth and into his. He’s leaving love bites along your lips and trailing them down your cheek and jaw, making a stop and your earlobe, and lapping at your neck. Doesn’t leave a trace of skin uncovered. Red and blue marks are littered over your body.

He slowly makes his way down to your core, until he’s languidly caressing the soft insides of your thighs with his hands. Doesn’t matter how hard he is, he’s eating you out and making love to your cunt with his face.

He loves controlling the pace of his thrusts until you’re a babbling mess and cock drunk. It fills him with pride to know you trust him enough to lose yourself completely, until the only reality you know is him and his cock.

“Mine”, “my love”, “babygirl” “my good girl” ... ohhh….

Good lord he goin crazy on that thang!!!!

read more here! -> my masterlist

Warning: Everything I post is 100% my original writing & thoughts. This also includes the moodboards at the beginning, that I create. Please do not plagiarize or copy. Tag for inspiration or add-ons. Reblogs are appreciated! <3

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids oneshot #skz x reader #skz #bang chan #christopher bang #bang chan x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #kpop smut #chRIZZtopher #werewolf #werewolf boyfriend

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tbhyknow2 · 5 months

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TSUBAKI AS YOUR GIRLFRIEND!

notes. the only reason why i got into windbre is because of her and mister white-haired blue-eyed hajime umemiya. (im gonna explode)

contents and warnings. mostly fluff, tsubaki is referred to using she/her pronouns (pls she is heavily transfem-coded), making out (mentioned, non explicit).

✦ Somehow, some way, you managed to get into a relationship with someone as cool and awesome as her! How? Why? You aren't sure, but you don't question it, afraid that it'll backfire on you.

✦ Tsubaki is extremely affectionate and loves PDA. She would hold your hand if you let her to, squeezing it occasionally to make sure you're still hanging onto her. It's a small, little habit that you have formed— a wordless communication.

✦ Sometimes, when she sees you from a distance, she'll run up to you and either greet you with a hug or surpise you with a hug from behind. Forgive her if she buries her face into your hair and smells your shampoo, it makes her giddy when you use the new scented shampoo she recommended you.

✦ More often than not, you'll find lipstick marks all over you when she goes to attack you with kisses. It's a fun surprise whenever you suddenly find a mark on your forehead or on your jaw... It's kind of embarrassing, but hey, that's love you suppose.

✦ If you aren't comfortable with PDA, Tsubaki will understand and will adjust to be more affectionate behind closed doors.

✦ She loves to have sleepovers at your place, even more so when your parents are so welcoming and accepting of her. You'd guys have self-care sessions, pulling out skin-care kits and applying facemasks while watching a movie together; Sometimes, you'd have long rant-filled talks about random things you guys find interest in. The sleepovers often end in either cuddling or makeout sessions that also ends up in cuddling.

✦ Uses pet names, but to the point it's unbearingly sweet. Most of the time, it's the slip of a tongue like "Could pass me the salt, darling?", "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry" and "Don't keep me waiting, Angel"... And the other half is just teasing because she just loves watching you become all flustered.

✦ She's also easily flustered, so you guys have flirting competitions and the first to become shy loses. It's a cute, little bonding moment!

✦ Shopping dates are a must! It's practically a ritual for you both. At first, she brought you along, so you can give your honest opinion whenever she tries out new accesories or outfits. But when you start to do the same, you bet she'll be hyping you up. Even more so when you're the type to stick in your personal bubble and avoid new things.

✦ She's the kind of girlfriend that'll introduce you to things you never thought of trying before, but you're glad you did because it makes you so happy! And that's her number one goal when it comes to you.

✦ Whenever you're feeling down, she's there to comfort you. If you need a calm voice to listen to, she's there to sit beside you and offer her shoulder to dry your tears. She'll pat your head and tell you everything's going to be alright, and just lots of encouraging things.

✦ She'd do anything she can to distract you from your thoughts, even going as far as take out on dates and have you focus on being happy instead of whatever your problem is.

✦ Tsubaki just cares so much and loves you lots, and she wants you to be is comfortable around her. So if you have a problem with anything (i.e loud noises, crowds, being uncomfortable with affection), she'll understand and adjust. All she asks is you do the same for her as well!

✦ With her, people don't even make you a target. I mean, she is one of the four heavenly kings in Boufurin. Anyone who messes with her beloved, messes with her.

✦ If anyone dares to push their luck, well... They best be prepared because she isn't going to let that slide.

✦ And after she's done teaching them a very important lesson on how to keep their noses in their own business, she's off to giving you all the love and affection you deserve, making you forget all about anyone that tried to hurt you.

#⠀⠀💭 ﹒ writings！#wind breaker x reader #tsubakino tasuku x reader #windbre x reader

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spicyllewyn · 8 months

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When you walk away.

Moon system x F ! Reader.

"When you walk away, Cut me open, take my heart So we'll never be apart Don't you let it go to waste."

Tags & warnings. NSFW, NON-CONSENSUAL. (+18)

Word count. 2.5k

Summary. You, literally, physically, cannot break with your boyfriends. (Inspired by the reddit story.)

The 4 of you were in tune, just as you had been throughout your entire relationship. Steven, Marc, and Jake were aware that this would happen at some point or another, much to their liking sooner rather than later, but sometimes there's not much you can do. Sometimes, being the keyword.

As time passed, your patience dwindled little by little. Cleaning Jake's wounds, comforting Steven's nightmares, and picking up the broken pieces of Marc's fits of anger became 'too much' when you realized that you were the one living with pain silently most of the time.

It wasn't their fault, you were aware of that, you couldn't deny that they loved you, and you didn't have the strength to lie to yourself about it, but you also knew that there was no way they would rid themselves of the title of vigilante. Khonshu didn't let them go, but they didn't fight as much as you would like either.

The sound of the door pulled you out of your thoughts, and one last time Marc's exhausted expression caused a stir in your heart. You gave him a small smile, and he, seeing that strange expression, knew that the day had come.

"What are you doing awake?" He closed the door behind him.

"I was waiting for you." When your body shifted to one side of the couch, there was space for him beside you. Marc understood, the couch creaked under his weight, he was right at the corner of it, raising his arm to the backrest to be able to touch your shoulder with his fingers in a loving gesture. "We need to talk."

He nodded silently, his breath hitched but he managed to disguise it for you.

"I can't do this anymore, Marc." Your voice broke when you said his name, and he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze as if trying to convey the strength you needed to continue. "I love you but I think this isn't the best for either of us."

He nodded again, biting the inside of his cheek.

"I understand." He didn't make a scene, he didn't raise his voice, and he didn't plead, and even though the tears trapped in his eyes portrayed the real pain he felt, you knew he loved you too much to make this harder for you.

Marc would never turn the knife that he had already stabbed you with when he agreed to be in a relationship with you. He pulled your wrist and with a push, he brought you against his chest where you cried for a good 10 minutes until his voice caught your attention.

"I'm going to leave, okay?"

"You don't have to do it, not now." You checked the time on his watch; he still had an arm around you. "It's late."

"I need to be alone." His lips occasionally brushed against your hair, small kisses that carried the scent of your shampoo. "Please."

This time it was your turn to nod silently.

Your bodies broke the hug, and both of you felt the cold of the night hit you like a truck. You watched with crossed arms as he removed Steven and Jake's posters from the walls; he never liked putting up decorations of that kind.

He packed up what he could in some boxes, books, clothes, even a picture frame with a photo of both of you, he loaded everything into Jake's car.

He took your cheeks one last time, and you enjoyed the taste of mint in his mouth, those chewing gums he used to try to relax his anxiety, those that never worked. When Marc left, you sent a couple of messages to acquaintances to break the news because you had been together for so long that your partner could already be considered part of your family and your group of friends; you received some immediate responses.

Mostly words of encouragement, regretting that things hadn't worked out.

You went to sleep in a cold, lonely bed, but with a strange sensation, as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You had the chance to start over, to live a life with fewer worries.

Things could get better.

Steven's late-night podcast woke you up around 10 in the morning on Saturday, accompanied by a delicious scent of waffles; you knew it was him because the coconut aroma always prevailed in his vegan breakfasts.

Without opening your eyes, you complained to yourself. Were they trying to change your mind now? You were ready to argue.

The feeling of discomfort caught your breath in your lungs when you opened your eyes and saw the posters back on the wall. Looking down was also a surprise; you were wearing one of Steven's shirts, your favorite for sleeping.

You could swear Marc had taken it the day before along with many of his things.

"Love?" Steven's smile slowly faded when you appeared in the kitchen, an uncomfortable expression on your face. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?" He stopped what he was doing to walk up to you, his delicate touch landing on your cheeks just as Marc had done the night before, squeezing them to get your attention.

"I think... mhm." You let him interrupt you with a kiss. "I had a bad dream." Or at least, that's what you were trying to convince yourself. There was no other explanation for this happening.

"Sorry for leaving you alone in bed, I was starving." He looked genuinely concerned as his forehead rested against yours. "I made waffles for you; I know they're your favorites."

You spent the morning with him, and Steven being as affectionate as always didn't surprise you; that simply was Steven's personality. As the day went on, you understood that you had only experienced an extremely lucid dream, so you would have to go through this again somehow.

While your boyfriend rested his head on your lap, you stretched just a bit to grab your phone, which lit up with a message arrival, and you took the opportunity to check one last time that you weren't going crazy. You scrolled through all the messages, and there was none talking about breakups or anything close; in fact, your last message had been sent to their shared phone, you saying you missed them without receiving a response.

Your other hand, almost by inertia, played with Steven's curls as you searched for any sign that told you that the previous night had indeed happened.

Nothing.

"Are you okay?" He mumbled sleepily; apparently, your fingers had tensed in his hair.

"Mhm." You swallowed hard. You couldn't do this again; it felt like a cruel joke of life. "Can we talk? Please?"

Very much against his will, he straightened his back and faced you. Those beautiful brown eyes with dark circles underneath looked at you with as much admiration as they always had, his fingers intertwined with yours, and his thumbs stroked your hands.

"What's wrong, love?"

"We can't be together anymore." It was better if you did it bluntly, as if ripping off a band-aid all at once rather than doing it slowly.

His expression gradually fell, tears filled his eyes, his brow furrowed, and a small pout appeared on his lips. His fingers slowly tightened around yours.

Your hands hurt from the way he clung to you.

"Steven, you're hurting me." You sobbed too when you saw him cry openly. When you stood up, he fell to his knees in front of you without letting go. If only your dream had been real; going through this was hurting your heart twice as much as you had ever imagined.

Another reminder that Marc and Steven were not the same person.

"Sorry, I-I'm sorry." He stuttered as you helped him to his feet. He released your hands to hug you against his chest, almost cutting off your breath with the suddenness of his movements. "I'm sorry, love."

Sorry for what? He hadn't done anything wrong in the relationship; not all breakups arose from mistakes on either side, sometimes things just didn't work out, and that was it.

He, internally, knew very well why he was apologizing to you.

"I need to be alone, Steven." You whispered when you felt him hiccup against you in pain; his shirt you were wearing felt damp by now at shoulder level.

You gently pushed him back by the chest, and he took a step back, still trembling.

"I... Y-yeah, of course, I... understand." He forced himself to take a step back.

"Jake's car keys are where they always are." With heaviness, you had to turn your back on him, or you knew he would never leave. You could feel his brown orbs glued to you for just a few seconds before the slam of the door made you startle.

You ran your hands over your face in desperation. Facing it a second time had been worse, but things were done, fortunately, and you could talk about it better later, or at least that's what you hoped, when he felt calmer.

You sent messages giving the news, unlike your dream, this time it was a way to beg that no one asked about Jake, Marc, or Steven. You didn't have the strength.

A pair of arms tightened around you strongly causing you to groan in the middle of your sleep. You snapped your eyes open, feeling suffocated by the pressure.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You slurred as you struggled to get out of his grip.

“What's wrong, princesa?” He growled lowly as he pulled you tighter against him. He raised his head a little so he could look at you. He had barely one eye open, and thus he managed to look confused.

“Let go of me, Jake!” You were noticeably upset, his arms seemed to enclose you with increasing force as if he didn't notice that you were on the verge of a panic attack. The previous few hours hadn't been a dream, you were sure.

Your back hit his chest and you felt his breath on your neck.

“Wasn't one round enough for you?" His hips collided with yours to give emphasis to his words. “Do you want me to get you tired, amor?” One of his arms continued to take your breath away while his right hand moved down your body, stopping at one of your tits, squeezing it with his fingers almost in a playful way before continuing to crawl downwards, heading between your legs.

“Let go of me, I don't even know what the fuck you're doing here.”

Your voice cracked, breaking his heart.

But not as much as it would break him to let you go.

“I live here, tontita.” His fingers were rubbing against your pussy lips slowly. Up and down, forcing you to open your legs a little more.

“Jake, please.” Your eyes were filled with tears. This was a horrible nightmare.

“Shh, be a good girl for me, okay? I had a long day.”

You didn't even put in any strength. You didn't have it anymore. As his fingers played with you, his hips pushed against your ass, over and over, rubbing his boner against you.

He was going to admit it, even he couldn't imagine being attracted to the idea of something like this. But after your attempts to escape, this felt like a way to reaffirm that you belonged to him.

“Look how wet you are, did you miss me?” When he got tired of his fingers doing the work he forced them into your mouth, making you taste yourself.

Steven's shirt that you again didn't remember wearing made his job easier, only pushing aside your panties to insert his cock deep inside your being in a single thrust. And you no longer knew if you were sobbing from pleasure or fear.

You didn't remember him being so rough to you before. With one push he flipped you onto your stomach with him crushing your entire body, where he could thrust more comfortably with a handful of your hair tangled in his fingers.

You heard the bed creak, his gasps, and you felt your face wet from your saliva and tears filling your pillow.

“Fuck, that's just w-what I needed.” He was using you. You could recognize it, sex between you always meant pleasure for both of you, now he seemed to be using you as a thing where to leave his cum.

Between tears and kicking, deep down, you knew you were liking it.

He didn't last long, not right when he discovered how much he liked taking you this way. You slept with him next to you, with his sperm running down your legs and wishing this too had just been a dream.

You didn't search for them around the apartment the following morning; as soon as you got up, you ran straight to grab a suitcase, if you didn't escape your own damn mind was going to drive you crazy.

Three days had been enough to make it difficult for you to differentiate between reality and your lucid dreams or whatever it was you were experiencing. You bumped into Marc as you exited the room.

"Woah, what's going on?"

You didn't even respond to him; you couldn't even look him in the face after what they had done to you.

"Move!" You pushed him as hard as you could, grabbing your phone, which for the third time had not a single message about the breakup.

"Sweetheart?"

"How the hell dare you ask me what's wrong!?" You were shattered, your mind, your body, you. "Last night, Jake... "

"Huh?" He interrupted you with a furrowed brow. "We just got here, sweetheart."

No, no, no, no, he was lying to you.

He had to be lying to you. You wanted to wipe that confused expression off his face with punches and tear off the hand he was using to point at Jake's car keys in their place.

You put them there; he just threw them wherever when he arrived.

And truth be told, when you looked down between your legs, you were almost too clean.

You were going crazy.

"Fuck off, Marc." Erratically, you ripped the charger off your phone from the wall and almost ran to the front door as if he were chasing you. Which clearly he wasn't. In fact, he wasn't doing anything except looking confused. "You and Steven and Jake, leave me alone."

The slam of the door made you feel free, as did the car horns and sounds of street vendors.

That night, you searched for the farthest motel you could find; you kept your phone off after sending messages to acquaintances assuring them you were okay but didn't feel comfortable sharing your location with them at the moment.

Ah, and at least you had a good night's sleep, after a long time.

“Pancakes or waffles?”

Steven's voice made you snap your eyes open. Your head was on his arm, and you felt the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed against your back.

Tears filled your eyes when you recognized the place around you.

Your home.

When your sobs reached your boyfriend's ears, you immediately felt him place a kiss on your shoulder.

"What's wrong, honey? Did you have a bad dream?"

#jake lockley x you #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x y/n #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight smut #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x reader #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x you #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant x reader

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purriteen · 8 months

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Ad victor spolia, chapter two

content warnings: incest, manipulation, eventual Stockholm Syndrome, toxic & dark!Coriolanus Snow (as if that isn't his default), named!reader, ANGST, eventual smut, non-con, age gap (5-6 years)

author's note: I feel like this chapter is kinda shitty since I’ve mostly written pure smut before, not to mention I haven’t written in English in a while so I’m still warming back up to the language & structure

but alright, since I've just been projectile vomiting words all day anyways y'all get two chapters at once this time mostly cause I myself couldn't wait to flesh out what happens next

word count: 3,345

Previous chapter

Next chapter

You struggled to fall asleep that night. You’d already come to the conclusion that slipping past the guards positioned along the tall metal fence or the main gate wouldn’t be possible, but at least, before you used to have the privilege of leaving the house and spending time in the garden whenever you wanted. Now you were truly trapped. Now that you needed to get out of here the most.

At first you’d enjoyed going for walks in the garden or having tea in one of the quaint greenhouses, until you discovered the one with those god awful rose bushes. The ones that reeked of your brother. You figured he didn’t tend to them himself, but that didn’t ease the disgust you felt whenever that familiar, overwhelming scent reached you. It was nauseating.

Even in his absence, everything reminded you of him, in the worst way possible. In every nook and cranny of the house there’d be a reminder that this was his home. For a moment you wondered if his signature scent had worn off on you; your shower was equipped with various settings and products, but it was always stacked with that familiar rose shampoo you could smell on him whenever he got close to you - too close for your liking -, without exceptions.

When you finally fell asleep, your face was raw and puffy from all the crying. You hadn’t even bathed or brushed your hair, or changed into one of the many pyjama sets in your wardrobe.

Then, at around seven in the morning according to your alarm clock, you awoke to the sound of keys rustling outside your door. You were relieved when you realised it wasn’t Coriolanus - he’d never make such an awkward entrance. Instead, your nanny maid stepped through the door. Eugenie. She looked even more anxious than usual. Perhaps she took pity on you - if only she knew.

The two of you hardly spoke that early Friday morning. She’d brought something for you to eat, stacked on a silver tray. As if you needed another reminder of your complete lack of autonomy here, your own brother now wouldn’t even let you have breakfast in the kitchen anymore. At least he’d been generous enough to let you have something you could actually stand to eat, you supposed. A bowl of blueberries and grapes and a fresh loaf of bread with butter and marmalade, neatly plated next to it.

You sat on the small couch in the corner of the room as you ate your breakfast, only managing to get small bites down. Watching Eugenie change your bedsheets and clean up after last night, you simply couldn’t think about anything else. That was enough to make your appetite vanish.

Once you were both done she gestured towards the bathroom, and you took the hint. She went in first and ran a warm bath for you, before leaving the room to give you some privacy. Finally you took a proper look at yourself for the first time since yesterday.

Your hair was a mess, but what worried you most was the prevailing handprint on the left side of your face. Three, four stripes of a faint purplish colour that was already fading to yellow in some places. You shakily inhaled, forcing yourself to keep it together. The last thing you needed was for Coriolanus to think he was getting to you, even if he was right.

Yet you still didn’t realise the extent of your injuries until you’d already sunk down into the bathtub, relatively comfortably so. You’d felt the swelling on the back of your head last night, of course, but it was almost worse now. All you wanted to do at the moment was fall back asleep, but the aching bump on the back of your skull made it impossible to rest your head anywhere without being in pain.

A couple minutes later, Eugenie returned. This time with an ice pack in hand, which she carefully placed in your hand and guided it towards the back of your head. She flashed you an almost sorrowful, empathetic smile, before she stepped back and closed the door behind her.

You weren’t particularly fond of her, but you didn’t want to make the poor woman’s job any harder than it already was. So you made sure to thoroughly wash yourself before she got back. The sight of the dried blood from your scalp liquifying and mixing with the bathwater as you rinsed your hair made you feel nauseous.

You wondered what dinner would be like. If he would pretend nothing happened yesterday, or perhaps dish out another beating. You still hadn’t entirely grasped everything that went down last night. Everything he had kept from you, above anything, the hatred he’d felt for you. The thought of your warm, outwardly unassuming cousin having to make such a sacrifice for you made you feel sick. Poor Tigris.

Not to mention being reminded of your mother’s passing. You knew she’d died in childbirth, your birth, but you never thought of it as your fault until he brought it up. Grandma’am never once blamed you for the loss of her only daughter-in-law. And until that moment, neither had Coryo. Not openly, at least. You were left staring at yourself in the mirror for a while, wondering if it was truly worth it. If you were worth it.

You knew you couldn’t afford to think like that, to let him get to you. But this was all so unlike the Coryo you were used to, you’d seen this side of him before, to some extent, but never directed towards you. You wished he had just stayed away, that he would’ve left you alone after the initial shock of Grandma’am’s passing.

As you patted yourself dry with the soft white towel always hung on the gilded heating rack, you couldn’t help but wonder if this is what you deserved. You’d dragged everyone down. You hadn’t even been able to take proper care of grandma’am the last couple days of her life, or at least, Coriolanus wouldn’t let you.

You sat down on the edge of the bathtub. Waited a couple more minutes. Got impatient again. You decided you might as well get dressed again before Eugenie came back, but the pile of clothes you’d left on the floor was already gone. In its place a peachy slip dress and a robe, with a pair of slippers to match. You sighed and slid on the matching set.

A few minutes later, she returned just on time. This time she just had a glass of water and a small yellow-ish pill in hand. You furrowed your brows a little, looking up at her. “What’s this for?” You inquired, silently scolding yourself as you heard the annoyance in your own voice. This wasn’t her fault, it’s Coriolanus you were upset with. “It’ll help the healing, Miss.” You simply nodded in return, washing down the small capsule with a sip of water before returning the glass to her.

Concern was written all over her face as she studied you for a couple seconds, discomfort forming in your gut. “I’ll be back in four hours with lunch. Master Coriolanus asked me to inform you that his personal stylist will pay you a visit tonight at six.” Her words came out tense and rushed, and you were left with no time to react before she stepped back and locked the door again. You weren’t sure why she was so out of it, or if you even wanted to know.

You were familiar with Coriolanus’ personal stylist. She’d been the one to prepare you for any of those important public appearances where your attendance was actually needed. Rumina, you believe her name was. She was not the type of person you’d expected to find working such a job - she was always well dressed, but always in a timeless, classic fashion rather than the bold, colourful looks that were all the rage this year.

You supposed that might’ve been why your brother hired her in the first place. Beyond just that, she appeared to be in her fifties or sixties, whereas most stylists were much younger. The reason for that on the other hand, you couldn’t quite grasp. But despite her elegant exterior, you couldn’t stand her personality. She wouldn’t shut up about how delighted she was that somebody was finally ‘stepping up’ to truly restore Panem to its ‘former glory’.

Truthfully you’d given up on politics long ago - you’d never been among the pick of the litter back at the Academy, largely thanks to being so caught up with caring for Grandma’am. Not to mention the way your last name seemed to precede you every time you entered a classroom - it was clear you had big shoes to fill, after your big brother’s academic achievements - which only drove you further away. So it was clear that wasn’t the right path for you. But at least, before Coriolanus’ presidency, you’d actually thought you might one day have a career of your own, something worth dedicating your life to. You just needed to heal and learn how to stand on your own two feet.

Until he’d robbed you of that opportunity entirely. You didn’t even truly understand why, how it in any way actually served him. He had every reason to lock up Tigris, if he was simply worried about his own family turning on him. You’d never stood up to him in that sense before, or tried to distance yourself. He’d done a great job at that himself. If he genuinely believed you were so frail, he could’ve just left you in that penthouse to let you wither away in peace. He didn’t need to keep you so close to him.

Despite feeling about as rejuvenated as you could get under these circumstances after that bath, you felt a wave of drowsiness hit you. You laid back on the newly made bed, hoping to just fall back asleep. Instead you laid awake for nearly half an hour, staring at the canopy ceiling. Eventually you’d had enough.

You got up and walked over to your dresser, quickly pulling open your underwear drawer. You doubted that it was actually hidden, but you’d kept some old memorabilia from your childhood stashed in the shoe box at the very back of the drawer. Pictures of you and Grandma’am. Of all four of you who survived. Even a couple pictures of Coryo and your mom and dad together before you were born.

There was a particular picture of them you just couldn’t stand. As far as you knew Coryo didn’t even remember the photograph’s existence. Mrs. Snow was sat next to your father, who stood up straight right by her side, with their newborn son in her arms. His gloved hand was steadily placed on her shoulder, but his face was about as devoid of any emotion as hers was of happiness. He had Coriolanus’ eyes - a pale shade of blue, cold and unforgiving.

Your mother on the other hand, looked afraid, exhausted and tense. No amount of makeup was enough to hide the dark circles under her wide eyes. You’d always admired her beauty, and although you never had the chance to know her, you felt a sense of pride in the resemblance the two of you bore. You had her eyes, her smile, her lips. Even her hair, although hers was wavier than yours. Coriolanus always recalled her as a warm, loving mother, and you didn’t doubt that, but this picture always gave you the impression she had to have been wildly unprepared for the task of becoming a mom, and consequently disillusioned. Or worse.

Everyone always spoke fondly of her, of her charm and youthfulness, and you couldn’t help but wonder if they were simply tiptoeing around the word naive. You didn’t have any memories of your father either, but just from the few photographs you had of him he’d always instilled a sense of fear in you. You hated how much Coriolanus was starting to resemble him.

Finally you got to the picture of Grandma’am holding you in her arms shortly after your mother passed. She was visibly shaken up, and both you and her worn hands were bloody. You’d been told many times of how close a call it was, how the family cook was convinced you wouldn’t make it. You could only imagine how she must’ve felt in that moment, holding her two weeks premature, frail granddaughter in her arms after watching her daughter-in-law lose her life.

It didn’t take long for you to start crying, something which only got worse as you scrambled through the rest of your small collection of family photos. The family fortune had run out awfully fast during the Dark Days, so there were hardly any taken during your childhood. The few you had left were mostly school photos and ones taken at various social events. Even though you couldn’t afford your own photographer, you’d always kept the unprocessed copies and had them processed and printed whenever you had some extra money to spare. Much to Coriolanus’ dismay you’d always been sentimental, just like your cousin.

You stayed like that for almost an hour. All those photos of you smiling in your brother's arms, the ones where he posed so proudly with his baby sister, made you feel nostalgic for something you’d hardly even experienced. You couldn’t grasp that this boy, your Coryo, could’ve gone from that prideful older brother you saw in those pictures to the man he was today. You wondered if Grandma’am had felt the same way bringing up Crassus.

When you finally got up from your seat on the floor, you carefully put the stack of photographs away again, along with the pearl necklace and perfume bottle you’d kept after Grandma’am’s passing, to remind you of her. You didn’t have anything tangible left of your parents, but you had fond memories of Coriolanus letting you sleep with your mother’s powder compact when you were younger. He’d always been possessive, though - only if you were really upset would he share it with you.

You checked the time. Almost ten o’clock. You went off to your bathroom to splash your face with some cold water, shivering as you looked up and were met with the sight of the yellowing bruise on your cheek. You’d almost forgotten. At least it was healing quickly, like Eugenie promised. After nearly exhausting yourself with tears, your throat hoarse and eyes puffy and red, you finally felt tired enough to take a nap. So you did. You nearly threw yourself back onto the soft, queen size bed and let your eyes flutter shut.

When you woke again it was noon. This time Eugenie had gone unnoticed when she entered, as you only awoke when you heard the wheels of the food cart she wheeled in after herself awkwardly bumping into the threshold, making the porcelain inside clatter against itself. You were startled at first, but immediately calmed down when you realised it was just her.

Soon enough lunch too had passed, and this time Eugenie stuck around to keep you company for a little while. She taught you how to knit, and you lent her your favourite book. For a moment you’d almost forgotten the gravity of the situation you were in. Until she scurried to get up, proclaiming she was late to laundry service. You glanced at the longcase clock across the room, a bit surprised to find it was already quarter past four in the evening. You had forty-five minutes until your brother’s stylist would turn up.

You spent that time trying to perfect your knitting technique, ignoring the stiffness in your hands as best as you could. You’d never excelled at crafts like Tigris did, or patience, for that matter.

Finally Rumina arrived, and you were almost relieved. She immediately started to babble on about the latest gossip, and as always, sang your brother’s praises. Though, today it was particularly unbearable, and you thought to yourself that someone working so closely with him and his image should know that it’s just that, an image. That your brother didn’t give a flying fuck about the districts, even if he had improved the living conditions of the tributes in the annual Hunger Games, and that he didn’t even really care about the Capitol either. You’d come to terms with the fact that Coriolanus was only loyal to one thing: power.

You had stayed silent as she blow dried, brushed and twisted and folded your hair up behind your head. When she was done she offered you a handheld mirror to have a look for yourself, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you were met with a tidy french twist. Of course your brother had chosen something conservative that’d thoroughly conceal the bloody lump he’d given you.

Then she had done your makeup. This time she laid the base on thicker than usual, but you weren’t surprised Coriolanus intended to hide your bruise, too. You wondered if it was for his own conscience’s sake or for his image. But it could hardly be the latter, you doubted he would let anyone see you so soon after last night’s events. Then again, you weren’t sure he even had a conscience, either.

When you were done, you looked perfectly rejuvenated. Though to you it felt like an empty shell. Rumina eagerly guided you out into your bedroom and helped you get dressed. It seemed your brother had picked out yet another tasteless, phoney dress that you’d feel nothing like yourself in. Much like the makeup it was more glamorous than you’d expected.

The material was flowy, probably something like chiffon, but it was perfectly cinched at your waist, the sweetheart neckline and the puffy fabric at your hips flattering your figure just right. There was some sort of built in corset that stopped just below your chest. The sleeves were long and puffy much like the skirt, which stopped just above your ankles. You knew Coriolanus was always up to whatever dress code applied, and something this elegant was hardly necessary for a simple dinner.

But what really stood out to you was the colour. It was a deep shade of burgundy; one you’d seen on Coriolanus oh so many times. You felt your jaw clench. It was bad enough that he insisted on dressing you up, like a mere doll, but this was yet another jab at your independence and individuality. Like you were just an extension of him.

Still, complaining to his own stylist would be of no use, so you decided to suck it up and let her finish dressing you. She clasped a silver necklace around your neck, a garnet pendant in the shape of an octagon hanging from it, framed by more silver. It almost seemed compulsive how your brother just had to show off his wealth every chance he got. Finally you slid on some black velvet kitten heels and had a look in the mirror.

You looked like something out of a gothic painting. (A tragedy, if you had to guess.) That wouldn’t be too unlike your current situation. Only there wouldn’t be a handsome, brooding young mythological hero to save you. No, your ‘prince charming’ had few positive attributes beyond just that - his superficial charm -, and no intention of saving you.

You felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter as you walked down the stairs to the main floor, confusion spreading on your face as you saw one of Coriolanus’ many servants waiting for you at the bottom. He stiffly informed you that there’d been a change of plans, that he’d be escorting you to the larger dining room over in the east wing. You hadn’t even explored the house enough to know there were multiple.

When you arrived you quickly understood what the sudden change of plans was for.

taglist: @caffeine-addict-slug, @phoward89, @catesbaroquecasahouse

#banner credit: @benkeibear #minors dni #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x you #named reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #thg fanfiction #eventual smut

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nekrosdolly · 10 months

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another wesker brain rot blurb (18+)

cw; unhinged wesker thanks to uroboros, uroboros injections and mentions, canon compliant with the events leading up to re5, husband wesker, objectification if you squint, temperature differences (he is an icicle personified sorry guys), domesticated wesker, fingering, non-specified reader genitalia.

pet names (reader received): my dear, dearest, little dove

husband albert wesker ♡ ︎♡ ︎♡

husband wesker, who, thanks to uroboros, has a heightened sense of smell. since starting his injections, he's been obsessed with how you smell- your shampoo, your cologne/perfume, any lotions you'd use. even the scent of your skin without any product added is addictive.

husband wesker, who cooks for you despite his developing lack of appetite. he knows you need to eat and truthfully, he enjoys cooking. he never got to experience he domestics of having a homelife, what with his whole life being Umbrella ever since he was born. learning to cook is definitely stressful at first and he's not good to begin with- he's a scientist, not a chef. truthfully, he burns a lot of things at first, but you're a good sport and you help him along. he is embarrassed the first few times, even if he doesn't outright say it you can tell by the way the tips of his ears turn pink and how his lip twitches.

husband wesker, who comes up from behind when you're least expecting it and slides his hand to the small of your back, dipping his head down to kiss your hair, secretly marveling at how good you smell. he adores how soft your hair is too. how loud your heart beats in your chest when he moves his hand to your hip, when he murmurs in your ear, "you are divine, my dear."

husband wesker, who, despite losing his humanity, knows to treat you with care. though his primal instincts have begun to take over, he's careful with you as he's always been. though his eyes have turned red, his pupils to slits, he looks at you with adoration. his touches are never violent- he's become gentler since taking doses of Uroboros. he treats you less like your own person and more like a prize to hang on a wall. everything you do makes his heart, beating or otherwise, swell with pride. his blood roars in his ears at the most innocent of touches from you.

husband wesker, who was never one for kisses before Uroboros, now kisses you like his life depends on it. always handsy and needs you near for him to focus, otherwise he's worried about what you're doing and who you might be with. he knows you'd never rat him out- you love him just as much as he loves you, after all- but he can't help the thought that someone is manipulating you. someone that isn't him, and that hurts. he has no reason to be jealous

husband wesker, who never blows up your phone, but takes to periods of the cold shoulder until you finally get him to tell you what's wrong. his rage is calm with you. he'll make you sit in his lap while he tells you what's wrong, only for you to soothe him and assuage his fears. you know he's coming from a good place, even if his methods are a bit odd. his hands never leave you as he talks, finding comfort in stroking your hair or your cheek, even rubbing circles on the meat of your hips. without his gloves, his fingers are just as cold as ever, even through layers of clothing.

husband wesker, who's gentle with you during sex because if he's not, he might seriously injure you. his grip on your hips is deadly, but other than that, he's a saint. he whispers praises while he fingers your fluttering entrance, his fingers slick with your come and lube. "you're taking my fingers so well, little dove. can you take another? just one more for me, dearest?"

you'll nod, a quiet moan leaving you when he adds a third finger- they're long and on the thicker side, helping to stretch you open in preparation while also hitting that spot that makes you go limp. he kisses your neck, down to your collarbone, where he leaves lovebites and admittedly very dark hickeys. your nails digging into his arm brings him back from his thoughts, and he watches you come undone from his fingers for the second time. this was supposed to prep you, but he loves how you look with his fingers buried within you.

#albert wesker x reader #writing #uroboros #albert wesker fluff #albert wesker smut #albert wesker fanfic #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #reader insert #gn reader #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#bunny's blurbs✧˖ °

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

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Always Yours, Never Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara X f!Reader

Universe One - The Original

Series Masterlist - Beta Read by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

In every universe there's a version of you that exists. In some of those universes, you're in love with me; in others, you don't even know my name. None of it matters though, because when I find you, I will have you, I'll make you love me, and I will never lose you again.

Inclusivity

Reader is not race coded, reader lives in New York in North America but isn't necessarily American, reader is not religion coded, reader is smaller than Miguel but like so is almost everyone, reader is female.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dub-con due to identity issues, non-con, rape, obsession, Miguel is not Spider-Man, does NOT take place in the MCU, Miguel is a physicist, Miguel needs therapy, smut, violence, blood play, yandere, protective, obsessive, possessive, murder, suicide, drunk driving, anal sex, oral sex, major character death, romance, angst. - Some (not as triggering) tags were left out in order to avoid spoilers.

Word Count: 2.6k

It was a morning like every other.

You opened your eyes, taking in your surroundings, feeling the stirring of Miguel while he snored against your chest. Looking over at the clock, you noticed it wasn’t quite seven yet, and it would still be a few minutes before your alarm sounded, signaling it was time for you both to get ready for work. He shifted a little, smacking his lips together before going back to his mouth-breathing slumber. Precious.

You’d only been married for a year, but it was a perfect year. It was a year filled with tear-inducing laughter, eating takeout on the couch, and afternoon naps when you and Miguel both managed to get the day off together. You couldn’t ask for a better way to spend your forever, and you knew he felt the same.

You carded your fingers through his dark hair as you lay there, enjoying the scent of his shampoo and wondering if you’ll ever get tired of it. Something about it made your heart swell, and it reminded you that you were home. He rolled his cheek into your torso more, mouth still open and creating a dark spot on your shirt where drool spilled out. A sharp snore erupted from him as he stirred, startling you. You giggled, feeling silly for jumping so suddenly.

That sound – He loved that sound.

Your sweet little laugh that permeated through everything, that woke him out of the deepest sleep, that brought him back to the present every single time he heard it. He looked up at you, his breath always catching in his chest at the sight of you, so beautiful in every single way; nothing could change how you made him feel.

“Good morning handsome,” you said, laughing and wiping a bit of spit from his stubbled cheek, “you were out. Having a good dream?”

You started to slide out of bed, but he caged you in with his ridiculously strong arms, keeping you in place and mumbling something incoherent against your stomach.

“Baby, we have to get going. I have that big meeting today with the art director at the firm, and you have to pitch your idea to the board,” you said, tapping his shoulder.

He looked up at you again, eyes still hooded from sleep. He sighed, leaning up on his elbows and pressing his lips against yours hungrily. Miguel seemed to growl sometimes when he got in the heat of passion with you. His massive hand grabbed your hip and pulled you under him further, while the other cupped the back of your head to make the impossibly deep kisses even deeper.

“We have a few minutes,” he insisted, reaching between you both to pull his sweats around his thighs.

You moaned, another sweet sound you made that Miguel could record and listen to on repeat for an eternity. Such a simple noise and yet it made a shiver run down his spine almost every time he heard it. He brushed the head of his cock against your inner thigh, making your skin slick with his precum. He pulled aside your panties, not bothering to take them off; he wanted you now, and removing them would take too much time.

No matter how long you and Miguel had been together, and no matter how many times he split you open, you never quite got used to the stretch. You gasped, arching your chest into his with that first thrust, giving him the opening to wrap both arms around your back and pull you close. You loved the sound of his fast and desperate breaths while he huffed in your ear, chasing his release, and trying to make sure you got yours too. He knew exactly how to position himself to ensure he hit all the right spots, not that it would be difficult given his size; he hit almost every spot.

“Oh, hermosa, always so tight, so wet…” he grunted as he slid forward again full to the hilt.

“F-fuck, Miguel!” You dug your nails into his back, putting your lips against his chiseled chest.

“Use your teeth on me, baby, give me something nice to look at when I change out of my lab coat tonight,” he said playfully before feeling your teeth latch onto his tanned skin.

He let out a low groan, enjoying the combined pain and pleasure. He snapped his hips forward and you cried out. He buried his face into your neck, pulling your mouth off his chest. He wanted to smell you; in an almost feral way, Miguel wanted to pull you close and devour you. He sucked on your neck, drawing some of the tender skin into his mouth, nipping and licking while you turned into a gasping, writhing mess beneath him.

“So perfect, honey-fuck—“

You gasped as he started fucking you faster, driving his cock deep into your fluttering cunt. You felt like you were going to rip in half, as you often did when he was inside of you. He cupped the back of your head and looked into your eyes. Fuck he loved you. With other guys you’d dated, there was always an air of doubt, but never with Miguel.

He kissed you, tangling his tongue with yours. You whined into his mouth, he loved the way he could send you reeling with his cock alone. You took him so well, you were perfect.

“I could fill you up forever, you know that?” He asked before bottoming out in your warm channel once more. “Could spend a lifetime stuffing you with my cum and it wouldn’t be enough, hermosa.”

Miguel always knew just what to say to make you come undone. You felt the heat pooling in your core, the sensation he’d given you time and time again. Your body was both vibrantly alive and tingling numb all at once. You dug your nails into his shoulders once more, he winced and hissed.

“Oh shit, baby—ah!”

Miguel’s pace slowed but he didn’t stop the rocking of his hips as he pumped you full of hot cum. You felt it spilling into you, painting your walls white while he fucked you through it. You helped him along as you reached your own climax, your tight cunt milking his cock for every last drop it could give you. Your screams filled the house, as they always did when he made you lose your mind.

He always felt like he had to use every ounce of his strength to avoid crushing you underneath his mass after he was spent. You kissed his cheek, like you always did when the two of you were done being intimate. He chuckled before pulling out of you and getting off the bed. Miguel went to the bathroom and cleaned up before tossing a towel your way.

“Honey, a couple girls from the office wanted to go out for drinks tonight so I think I’ll join them, that okay?” You finished cleaning yourself up before making your way to the bathroom where he was brushing his teeth.

“Who’s going?” He spit in the sink.

“Stacy and Mira.” You finished using the toilet before starting the shower.

“Those two? Really?”

He wiped his mouth and turned to you while you stepped into the shower. Miguel didn’t consider himself the controlling or possessive type, but those two had a tendency to be wild and unpredictable. He wasn’t going to tell you no. He didn’t get a woman like you by treating you as though you were his property, but he was going to make it known that he wanted you to be careful.

“I know, I know,” you said as you started washing yourself, “I’ll be careful, daddy. I’ll be home at 10:30 on the dot.”

He chuckled, “you know if you keep calling me that, I might have to take you back to bed, hermosa.”

You laughed and continued getting ready. You knew he wasn’t a fan of your work friends, but that wasn’t going to stop you from going out anyway. It’s not that you were a party girl, in fact your idea of a good time was curling up on the couch with Miguel and a good movie. It was just nice to get out for a little while and forget about the struggles of life.

Miguel always -always- kissed you goodbye before you both left for work. Even if you’d had an early morning disagreement, leaving you both pissed off and ready to ring each other’s necks, he made sure to kiss you.

“Adiós, mi vida,” he pressed his lips to yours just before you got into your car.

There were so many things that he would spend his life wondering, like: did you know you weren’t ever going to step foot in that house again? Did you know that was the last time you would ever get in your car to go in for another mundane day at work? Did you know that would be the last time you’d ever kiss your husband?

Probably not…but he would never forget.

Miguel was woken at 10:53pm that night out of a dead sleep to a knock on the door. He jumped up, noticing immediately that you weren’t in the bed with him. There was another knock, louder this time.

He knew. Deep down he knew that something had happened to you. With a shaking hand, he opened the door. You weren’t dead, and with that he found some relief, but your odds of survival were slim. Three dumb girls left the bar that night, one of which was too drunk to drive, but you let her drive you anyway. Only one of you had survived the accident, and it was you.

Miguel didn’t care that your face was disfigured, or that you were missing five teeth. He didn’t care that you weren’t going to be able to walk again, or that you might need him to spoon feed you for the rest of your lives together. He only cared that you were still breathing, even if it was labored and sounded like someone sucking the last of their beverage through a straw.

“I got here as fast as I could,” your step-sister, Emily, arrived at the hospital just an hour after Miguel had.

She put a hand on Miguel’s back as she sat next to him in the waiting room, seeing how distraught he was. With a heavy sigh, she brought both hands together and held onto her coffee cup as though her life depended on it. He could see her shaking, but he was still too angry for empathy. In fact, he thought to himself that he was glad the other two women had died, because if they hadn’t…he might’ve just killed them himself.

“How’s she do–”

“Not good,” he snapped, looking over at her.

“Oh, Miguel…” she wiped a tear from his face, “she’ll pull through, she always does.”

Except this time, you didn’t. You lived for forty-two more painful hours before your lungs collapsed and there was nothing any of them could do to save you. It was like his heart had been ripped out and trampled by a stampede.

Mi vida.

He thought about killing himself that night; considered taking the gun out of the safe he kept in the closet, holding the barrel to his skull and pulling the fucking trigger. There was nothing -nothing- that mattered to him more than you, and nothing that ever would matter more than you.

He didn’t though. There was a nagging in his head that told him not to do it, and so he put the gun back in the case and closed it, replacing it in the closet. He helped your step-sister, step-father, and your mother with funeral arrangements, but he hardly participated. Was he really supposed to give a shit what the flowers that surrounded your casket looked like? Fucking stupid.

Nothing felt the same after you were gone. Coffee didn’t smell the same, and food didn’t taste the same. He even had to start going to an actual hairdresser to get his hair trimmed because you weren’t there to do it for him. He was lost without you, in every way.

Months went by, and he’d hoped it would get easier, but it hadn’t. He still saw you in every aisle of the grocery store, picking out your favorite snacks. He still woke up in the night in a sleepy haze, reaching to wrap his arm around your torso, but he never found it. Miguel would sometimes still accidentally pour two cups of coffee on Sunday morning, forgetting that he’d be sitting alone on the patio.

“Dr. O’Hara!”

He jumped, looking up from his notepad to see his boss, Dr. Carleton Drake. The man looked down on him where he sat. He put a hand on Miguel’s broad shoulder.

“I know you’re still going through a tough time here, but we’re on the forefront of a scientific breakthrough and I need you to be present, alright?” He raised his dark eyebrows at Miguel. “I need that brain of yours on this project. I need you to get it together, big guy.”

The breakthrough in question was something right out of a science fiction movie. Miguel had always scoffed at Drake’s overly ambitious dream of traveling the multiverse, assuming the multiverse even existed. Truth be told, he’d thought it was all hogwash, but the idea that struck him that day gave him hope…hope that he might see you again.

It took three more months of sleepless nights, tireless tinkering and research for him to make something that worked. Drake was beyond impressed with the initial test, sending a rabbit from their universe to another and bringing it back with a camera attached to its collar.

“Someone dispose of the carcass,” Drake said, pulling the camera from the creature.

Miguel felt like he had a new purpose, a new reason for living. He needed to find a way to make the device work. It became his mission, because he knew once he figured it out, he would finally see you again.

It was a year and a half after you’d passed on the dot that the device was ready, as ready as it would ever be. He’d made it compact and sleek. It looked no different than a watch, and he could hide under a sleeve if needed. The most recent rabbit they’d sent out lived, but only as long as it didn’t come back. Every specimen sent out seemed to perish on the journey home.

Miguel understood that the device was flawed, and far from perfect. Having a watch that could take him to any universe imaginable, but couldn’t return him to his own, didn’t matter to him though. He didn’t want a world without you in it, and he had no intention of coming back once he left.

Miguel returned home, grabbing some essentials, not knowing where the watch might bring him, and he put the items in a small knapsack for the journey. There was a single photo, one of the two of you that he wanted to take as well, so he could always remember the original you, for what it was worth.

When he fired up the watch, he let it choose a destination at random. He didn’t know where he would end up, all he knew was that he would find you, no matter what universe you were in, and that he would make sure he never lost you again.

Thank you for reading! You can support your favorite writers by the simple act of reblogging and liking! Thank you again!

Next Chapter

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara imagine #yandere miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara noncon #miguel o'hara noncon #miguel o'hara non-con #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fan fiction

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from-izzy · 9 months

Text

[06:36] | tbz kim sunwoo

» PAIRING: tbz kim sunwoo x fem!reader » TROPE/AU: established relationship au, marriage au, non-idol au » GENRE: suggestive!!!!, little fluffy fluff at the end (and the start), flirty kim sunwoo, sunwoo is a sweetheart who makes you blush, sunwoo who lends you his clothes to sleep » WORD COUNT: 2594 » ESTIMATED READING TIME: 10 mins » WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!): suggestive!!!!, lowkey (?) domsunwoo, pet names (princess, bubs) because sunwoo can't control himself, a ton of kissing leading to a make-out session...in bed..., hickies (reader receiving) because s*nwoo can't control himself, pretty...thin walls, almost getting caught...by their child, you both are very much in love

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

hmmm...HMMMM---

thank you for beta reading @daisyvisions @justalildumpling and @winterchimez for reading and helping me with the warning sections!! 💕

You don’t know anyone with as much energy as you and Sunwoo at the break of sunrise.

“Sunwoo!” You lift your legs to your stomach, stifling your laughs down by clasping your hands over your mouth, “Wait wait wa—”

In response, your husband did everything but your request, continuing to bury you both underneath the white duvet and tickling the sides of your body, “I’m not the one that’s going to wake our little princess up!” He responds between your kicks and squeals, your happiness radiating back to him.

Just a few minutes ago in the warm morning, you still slept soundly in your bed with Sunwoo. Your face hid from the moonlight at night and the sunlight in the morning by pressing your forehead near his collarbone, and Sunwoo would keep you there with his hand on the back of your head. Sunwoo’s other arm snakes below the side of your waist on the bed and his hand on your lower back brings you intimately closer to him, caging you in his loving embrace. You, very much enjoying being the small spoon, had both your hands on his chest, occasionally clenching his loose shirt in your sleep to subconsciously confirm to yourself that your husband was still near you. Sometimes, when your hands would hold onto his material so hard to the point where the backside of the collar tugs him awake, he would dip his head down and kiss your eyelids, nose, forehead, and cheek before finally landing on your lips softly and comfortingly to make you relax back into your sleep.

Closer to the current time, Sunwoo wakes up to the unusually loud chirping of the birds outside the window behind him. However, his frown and frustrations all disappear when he sees his wife still sleeping soundly beside him. No one would be able to fully understand the amount of love that Sunwoo holds for you. Ever since you took his hand in marriage, waking up next to you quickly became his second favourite, most cherished, most anticipated thing that he would look forward to; a far second to your kisses and the way you kiss him lovingly each time. On the days when one of you would be too worn out from the day’s activities, your body would give up first. Even though it hurt to be going to sleep alone on the cold and big bed, you both knew that at some point in the night, the ‘I love you’ whispers directed at each other would never fail to put a smile on your faces.

“Hmmm…” Your husband hums to himself, closing his eyes once more and pulls you closer to him. His smile widened at your shampoo's familiar scent, and he couldn’t help but press his lips to yours, “Bubs.”

The deep giggles from across you finally made your eyelids lift, your eyes still squinting from both the light and the tiredness that is still in your system. You groan at the continuous kisses that started from your plump lips, now trailing up to the tip of your nose, your eyelids and back down to your jawline. The way you would attempt to hide your blush by turning over to the other side would be the start of the early morning chaoticness between you both.

Going back to the first dialogue, Sunwoo resorted to tickling you, still pressing light kisses to every part of your exposed skin that his shirt failed to cover properly. It started from your face, collarbone to your shoulder, and you continued to try to contain your laughter to avoid waking up your daughter in the nearby room. You tried to reason with Sunwoo to let you out of this situation alive, using your child as an excuse, but your husband only smirks more at your useless attempt.

After all the tossing and turning in the bed, you were clearly out of breath, unlike Sunwoo who undoubtedly still had more energy to get some radiant chuckles to escape from your pretty lips—to listen to your voice that he loves so dearly and very much. Managing to finally get a break, you lay flat on the bed. Needless to say, your hair is a mess all over the mattress, some over your face which Sunwoo lightly sways away. There were no more signs of playfulness in your husband’s eyes, especially not with the way he crossed one leg over your frame, his knees now directly next to your hip bones, trapping your lower body as he looked at you with longingness and love.

Sunwoo just smiles at your beautiful face and his hand automatically slides up from your hips, lifting the cotton material to place his veiny hand on your stomach. “Bubs.” He finally breathes out when you manage to hold his hands, your thumbs soothingly caressing the back of his hands in response.

“Hmm?” The skin contact from the pads of his fingers starting from your shoulder is barely recognisable but you are aware of how he eventually reaches your tired arms on the side of your body. Still keeping eye contact with you, Sunwoo feels the wedding ring on your hand, caressing the diamond he worked so hard for. It’s proof of his love and physical promise that he will stay with you until your last breaths, and the simpler, silver band around his finger that lays on your exposed stomach, is your love and promise to him.

The scene, the way that Sunwoo looks down at you at this moment, is highly familiar. It was the same look he gave you on the night of your honeymoon. The memory flashes through your mind, the light pink blush sweeping on the surface of your cheeks, and your heart beats erratically. Amused at the effect that he had on you, Sunwoo raises one eyebrow, simultaneously on the same half of his face, the corner of his lips lifting as well. A surge of confidence overflows you, grabbing both of Sunwoo’s hands without warning. Sunwoo didn’t back away from your figure, watching carefully at the way your pretty lips parted to let out a soft moan and a ‘good morning, handsome.’ greeting. Not long after, you closed the gap between your mouths, not to kiss him, but to feverishly run your tongue across his bottom, plump lip.

“Sunwoo…” Your voice calls out to him after and he uses a bit of force to tear your hands apart to intertwine your fingers with his, lunging forward to push you back on the mattress and pinning your hands up next to your shoulders.

“God, I love you so much.” Before you could even repeat the same words to him, Sunwoo dives into the crook of your neck and you whimper in pleasure when you feel the surface of your skin between his teeth, “Is this alright?”

You shut your eyes first before mumbling an answer, “M-Mhm.” It motivates Sunwoo to further paint your skin in the shape of his lips. The satisfying feeling makes you squirm under his unrelenting but still gentle touch. You whimper further as a response, your fingers tightening and your toes curling. When Sunwoo’s mouth lands on your left collarbone, you would tilt your head to the right, automatically giving him access that he gratefully accepted.

“Do you remember this?” Sunwoo manages to gasp out, his warm breath hitting your now slightly wet skin due to his intense feelings, “The night that you vowed to be mine. The physical marks that you couldn’t fully get rid of for two whole weeks.”

How could you ever forget?

Thankfully, there was no need to wake up earlier or use makeup as your blouses always covered the evidence. Thankfully, Sunwoo was also nice enough to keep it within an area that would be easily covered with most of your wardrobe outfits—minus the spaghetti straps and lower neckline dresses which would drive him absolutely wild.

Sunwoo remembers all the marks that he made around your chest and neck area on that night because he’s thought about it: he wanted to place the marks that would just be hidden behind your work clothes but just enough that when you both were back home, the lightest tug would reveal the masterpiece that you let him put the night(s) before. The strategic plan made it easy for Sunwoo to recreate the marks and for you to focus on the parts of your skin that he is focusing on and will focus on.

But this time, it was harsher, more passionate, more loving. Sunwoo has been craving this moment with you, and even after he finished making his usual marks, he continued to trail upwards where he knew you would mewl and gasp at his touch. The new sensation knocks the air from your lungs and you desperately beg for Sunwoo to continue his act.

You cannot believe that a second ago, you thought you were completely out of breath. Because if the earlier events really did make you feel out of breath, then you didn’t know how to describe this one.

“Bubs.” You took note of the series of exhales on your neck that slowly but surely calmed down. Even with your eyes still shut, you can still make out the shadow above you, “You alright?” Sunwoo releases his hold on both of your hands, relocating his palms on the sides of your neck, caressing the underside of your jawline and a longer, passionate kiss that muffles the remnants of your deeper pants from before.

“More than alright, love.” When you open your eyes, the darker look in his eyes from earlier is completely gone. Now, only heart-shaped sparkles reflected the windows of his soul and you would both argue to each other that the other was the reason who put them there, “Are you alright?”

“Of course I am.” Sunwoo’s face closes in on yours once again, leaning his slightly wet bangs on your exposed forehead—it’s obvious that you both couldn’t get enough of each other. The anterior side of his forearm rests next to your face to properly balance his weight as he admires his wife. His other palm cups your still-warm cheek, “How could I not be when I have the smartest, kindest, prettiest and sexiest woman here? And guess what?” He buries his fingers underneath your hair strands, “She’s mine.”

“You’re such a flirt.”

“You love it.”

“You’re right.” Slowly wrapping your hands around Sunwoo’s neck, you pull him to give an innocent kiss, “I love you.”

You allowed the calming atmosphere to fill you both, tilting Sunwoo’s head to lean his still-warm forehead on yours, the tips of your noses rubbing against each other as you both smile gleefully. The birds continued to sing their songs to each other, most probably waking up your neighbours and any houses with thin walls like your own.

“Mumma!”

The couple quickly scrambles at the distressed screaming. The father jumps back on the bed, scurrying to hide his body inside the blanket with widened eyes on the freshly made marks that were growing darker and more evident by the second, “B-Bubs, your neck.”

Your hands fly to your collarbone, your own eyes wide at the realisation, “Oh shit.” Both of you knew that there wasn’t much that you could do, so you just opted for the fastest, but unfortunately nowhere secure, way of hiding the remnants by pulling the back of Sunwoo’s shirt to make the front neckline higher until it reached the base of your neck. You sat down on the excess fabric that you made to secure the new neckline in place, just in time for your four-year-old to burst through the door.

When your only child finally steps into the room with hurried steps, you take notice of her white fist around the bunny ear of her favourite plush. The snot runs down her nose and her reddened philtrum tells the couple that she has been wiping her nose for a while. The light grey fabric of the raccoon onesie that she had been matching with your husband now looked darker as the waterfall from her eyes continued to fall onto the fabric. The evidence of the stress that the younger girl showed to her parents made you both gasp in surprise.

Sunwoo springs into action quickly, kneeling in front of his daughter to get to her eye level, “What’s wrong, princess?” He takes hold of her shoulders, gently applying some pressure to make his presence known to his little girl, “Did you have a nightmare?”

She only nods furiously as a response, leaping forward for comfort in her dad’s arms. The bunny hits the back of Sunwoo’s head due to the force of the little girl’s arm swing, “I-I think there is a monster in the room! I heard mumma scream!” She wails, her shuddering lips pressed onto the top of Sunwoo’s shoulder.

“Oh no no no, baby.” Sunwoo soothes your daughter who continues to let out broken wails and cries, drenching his shoulder in the process, “T-That wasn’t what you thought it was.” His heart swells. On one part, it was the admiration of the fact his daughter loves his wife. The other part was the nervousness that the thin walls did not keep the privacy of his acts within their four walls. “Plus, dadda won’t let anything happen to mumma.” He pushes the thought away for now, hearing the bed creaking behind him, “See, look?” With this indication, your daughter lifts her head to see you approaching the little family not too far away from bed.

You still had one hand behind your back to pull the shirt. But, you made it to the little huddle, tucking the shirt under your thighs before kneeling beside Sunwoo and running your hand over your daughter’s back. “Mumma is alright, baby.” You spread your arms open and your daughter lets go of her dad to run straight into her mum’s chest.

You readjust the heartwarming position by wrapping an arm around your daughter’s waist, tilting her body to the side and quickly tucking your hand behind her knees, letting her sit down on your own two knees as comfortably as you can, “A-Are you really okay?”

The arm around her waist is now around her shoulder to make sure her body doesn’t slip down from yours. “I really am okay, baby. Thank you so much for worrying about me.” You continue to reassure her, pinching her cheek and successfully putting a wide smile back on her face.

Sunwoo sighs out in relief, the deep exhale from his body gaining your attention. From the corner of his eyes, he sees your frown and the disapproving shake of your head. In response, his lips inaudibly moved in all kinds of shapes and sizes, and his hands flew around in the air to emphasise that he was just as stressed as you were. You squint your eyes in response, your pupils darting to the four walls that made your bedroom, and Sunwoo nods in defeat as he understands fully what you mean.

You thought it was all over, the sun bright and happy along with your now composed family. But it was just the nature of children to be curious about everything they see. Your daughter speaks up once again, asking about the now bright red prints on your collarbone, even pointing to the ones visible to her. Sunwoo responded to her act first, cursing under his breath when your wide eyes met his mischievous smile.

“Kim Sunwoo!”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿

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violetsiren90 · 3 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

Pairing: best friend's younger brother!Changbin x f!Reader

Genre: drabble; established (secret) relationship; smut and fluff w/ a smidge of angst

Summary: Three months after you show up on your best friend's doorstep to find her brother instead, Changbin thinks it's time to let Nari know that things have changed.

Content warnings (for snippet only): 18+ (minors, DNI); showering together; allusions to sex; nudity; kissing and embracing; teasing (non sexual); mentions of reader's hair being washed; some minor anxiety and worries; fluff 🥰

Word Count: TBD.

“I have a confession to make,” his voice comes from over your shoulder and the patter of water against the shower floor.

You hum in response, eyes closed as his fingers lather shampoo against your scalp, filling the humid air with the scent of lemongrass and lavender. His other arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close so that your bare back leans flush with his chest.

“…I told Chris.”

Your eyes open, droplets clinging to your lashes like dew.

“About us?”

His hand skims up your side and moves to cup your forehand and tilt it back as you feel the warm spray of the showerhead through your tresses. When the suds are gone he turns you around, hands on your hips. He looks like the cat who caught the canary as he nods and smirks, and you can’t help but smile yourself, even as you attempt to harness an expression of disapproval.

“How’d that happen?”

“He basically called me out on it. Said only one thing could make me so stupidly happy.”

“Mind-blowing sex?” you murmur, pressing your slick skin to his.

“You,” he corrects, his eyes glimmering as he leans down to press wet lips to yours. When he pulls away, you consider for a moment.

“You mean…he knew you liked me? Before?”

“You think my best buddy wouldn’t?”

A pang of guilt twists in your stomach at the remark. Your best friend is still very much in the dark about…well, everything where you and her brother were concerned. You chew your bottom lip as he helps you out of the shower. Absently reaching for the towel he holds out, you blink into focus as your hand clutches at air when it’s drawn back out of your reach.

“What…hey, why are you…?” you glance at Changbin, who is now holding the towel over his head, a victorious look on his features as his eyes rove your form.

“I like you naked. Five more minutes!” He whines with a chuckle as you swat his bulging pectoral and snatch the towel cradling his hips to wrap around your own damp body.

“You’re ridiculous,” you grumble with a smirk, but you adore it - how taken his is with every part of you. How he always wants to touch you, hold you, be close to you in any way he can. And how he never shies away from saying just exactly how you make him feel.

Though, you’ve noticed a shift in that particular respect over the last few weeks.

You watch him rumple the towel over his hair.

Sometimes he holds something back. You can always see it, lingering behind his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. You can feel it on the tips of his fingers and at the end of each sweet kiss. But it’s grown with time, and you feel the weight of it each time his eyes rest on you when he thinks you’re not aware.

You suppose it’s only natural that there should still be some mystery between you. Even after all the years you’ve known him, these were uncharted waters, and ones you’d strayed into more than a little clandestinely.

Keeping your relationship secret has had its benefits. It’s given you time to grow without the judgements and perceptions of others playing a part in your gentle discovery of one another. It’s also taken the pressure off of things - not having to answer questions from anyone you haven’t even had the chance to ask yourselves. And it was fucking sexy, to be honest, all the sneaking around. Inconvenient at times to be sure, but still deliciously indulgent to the rebel in you both.

But as you watch him open the mirrored cabinet to grab the toothbrush he keeps in your bathroom your heart skips a beat and you wonder if it’s time the jig is up.

You settle behind him, slipping your arms around his middle and resting the side of your head against his broad back.

“What did Chris have to say? About me and you?” you ask softly.

Changbin spits into the sink.

“He was stoked for us.”

You smile.

“He did ask if Nari knew.”

You sigh.

“I think she should by now,” he says, turning to speak over his shoulder. “I think it’s time.”

You hum into his skin.

“The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be. A few months of privacy is alright, we’re still in the clear.”

He’s right. You know he is. You press your damp forehead into his back and sigh again.

“It’ll be fine,” he says around his toothbrush.

“She’s gonna freak,” you groan.

“She’ll get over it.”

You sincerely fucking hope so. The faucet squeaks shut and he turns, wrapping you in his big arms, to press a minty kiss to your lips.

“Stop fretting, beautiful,” his dark eyes sparkle down at you, “We’re gonna be okay. Nari too.”

Your heart melts as it settles when his mouth seeks yours again. Yeah. You could face all the troubles of the world, in fact, if you were allowed to keep holding him like this.

~To be continued~

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gaygentbrontosaurus · 1 year

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what Haikyuu characters smell like

…. because i’m sick of the sandalwood - vanilla bullshit, they're all in high school, they all smell like Axe or sweat

Hinata Shouyou

doesn't shower, but probably still has baby sweat so he doesn't stink

Kageyama Tobio

smells like Nivea cream. Very clean, very nice but also big baby vibes

Tsukishima Kei

showers with what his mom packed him so probably some organic oat-scented shit

Yamaguchi Tadashi

actually cares about his products and smells nice for a teenager but nobody notices

Ennoshita Chikara

Axe. Because everyone is using it, not because he thinks it's cool.

Nishinoya Yuu

doesn't shower. Also Axe.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke

showers sometimes, but only when his sister says that he stinks. Axe.

Azumane Asahi

one of the only people that actually smell attractive. definitely had an Axe phase in middle school tho.

Sugawara Koushi

the only one on the team with a fresh shirt every practice, smells like fresh laundry

Sawamura Daichi

dad smell, like 3 in 1 hair, body, face and working in the garage

Iwaizumi Hajime

responsible adult, has a nice cologne and doesn't use too much of it, just enough. buys body wash in bulk because it’s cheaper and more convenient.

Oikawa Tooru

smells like everything. has a nice (in his opinion) perfume, strongly scented floral body wash, citrusy shampoo and coconut body butter. he is living his best life but everyone has to deal with his smell that enters the room before he does.

Matsukawa Issei & Hanamaki Takahiro

bought Axe and “manly man” body wash for shits and giggles and “ironically” use them. but in the end they still smell like Axe. also yes they bought one of each and share everything.

Yahaba Shigeru

easily impressed by Oikawa, also experiments with different smells but thankfully he’s more subtle with it

Kyoutani Kentarou

Axe.

Terushima Yuuji

Axe.

Aone Takanobu

nice, subtle scent, smells cozy.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

soap is soap, so also Axe.

Tendou Satori

either washes with just water or has a very specific and complicated hair care routine. there is no inbetween. smells like sandalwood and no one knows why.

Shirabu Kenjirou

Axe.

Daishou Suguru

you would think he’s edgy and different, but deep down we all know he uses Axe.

Miya Atsumu

Axe. He is THE prime Axe user. if someone thinks it's cool and manly it's Miya Atsumu.

Miya Osamu

Axe. but one of the milder ones

Suna Rintarou

doesn’t care. Axe.

Haiba Lev

stole his dads fancy cologne, which would be nice and all if he didn’t shower with a chocolate-scented body wash.

Kozume Kenma

long haired gamer. doesn’t shower. probably borrows deodorant from someone on the team because he didn’t pack any and doesn’t care how he smells. so Axe.

Yamamoto Taketora

doesn’t shower. Axe.

Kuroo Tetsurou

token “manly highschooler smell”. overuses Calvin Klein cologne. but shower gel? Axe. ironically watches the alpha male self care routines but secretly notes the shit down.

Yaku Morisuke

buys his products in those mom shops, all his products smell nice like lavender, jasmine or cotton and are vegan, clean and non-gmo.

Akaashi Keiji

takes care of himself. uses basic products, but has a separate product for everything, doesn’t believe in the 3 in 1 (actually uses a conditioner and face wash). smells like he showers regularly so the rest of the team is greatly impressed.

Bokuto Koutarou

Axe. douses himself with the deodorant. definitely had a tutti frutti phase in the past 2 years.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

rubbing alcohol, uses only hypoallergenic, non-scented products.

Yachi Hitoka

bought a strawberry-scented soap because it looked really cute. doesn’t like the scent at all but still uses it because she is anxious to tell her mom to get her a new one.

Shimizu Kiyoko

smells very feminine, uses fancier brands with floral smells.

Ukai Keishin

cigarettes. bought cologne to impress women but rarely uses it.

Takeda Ittetsu

laundry detergent. always has clean clothes and changes often.

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cupids-chamber · 1 year

Text

— " WORKED UP " Suggestive / Gender neutral reader | Punk!Jade au [ Can be read as yandere or non yandere ]

His large hands wrapped around your neck, imprinting your soft skin with red; forming a collar of sorts entrapping the two of you, together. He watched as you gasped and squirmed; a shiver crawling down his spine, as he analyzed your movements.

You could practically taste the cigarette remains on his lips, the scent of burning ash and smoke filling your surroundings as he pulled you in all the bit closer. The air around you was suffocating, heavy pants fell from your lips, as he edged you closer, burying himself into the crook of your neck, aiming to imprint himself into your skin. Inhaling deeply, absorbing your scent; a deep sigh leaves him as he sings praises of love, a small hum following swiftly afterwards.

He fondles your hair, grabbing it in handfuls; pulling you closer into his embrace, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your shampoo. Everything only helped grow his never ending obsession for you. He’d continue pulling you forward, till there was no more room or gap in between the two of you, till it was impossible to let go or move away, not until the scent of you outdid the ridiculously potent smell of smoke; that he only helped worsen.

He leaves a small peck on your neck, a sharp toothy, languish grin embraces his features when he feels you shiver in his grasp. Each and every languid action enticing a different and much more amusing reaction from you. “Getting worked up are we?”

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harunovella · 2 years

Text

but baby i've already got your heart ; s.g.

synopsis: professor gojo was loved by all, a well rounded man with a bright smile and a personality students and staff swooned over... however, he holds a dark secret that comes out in the late hours of the night—or sometimes, in the shadows during the day—the feared ghost face. his next victim? his most beloved student: you.

cw: fem!reader, professor!gojo/ghost face!gojo, student!reader/victim!reader, yandere!gojo, obsession/manipulation, mentions of blood/murder (nothing too detailed, stalker!gojo, oblivious!reader (but... is she, really?), fingering (public indecency), unprotected sex, creampie/squirting, cock warming, possessiveness, dub con!, stealing/breaking and entering, non con photos (?), panty snatching/sniffing, threats, mentions of somnophilia but nothing happens, gojo is a straight up perv and has major red flags but the ladies love him anyway!, plot twist, MDNI 18+ PLEASE! (sorry if I miss any)

wc: 7k+

an: this was sm fun to write, I love ghost face and i love gojo... it's october so why not put them together?! anyway, here's to my first ever gojo fic! i love this man sm, I hope you all enjoy! title inspo...

Satoru Gojo was obsessed. At least, obsessed felt like an understatement. What he felt for you, deep within his damned soul, was a sensation unlike any other. Sure, he's had his fair share of pretty things to fawn over in an unhealthy manner... but you, you were something else. Something ethereal. A being unlike any other. He didn't know why, nor did he know how or when it struck him... maybe it was the moment he met eyes with you for the very first time, but the urge to keep you was overwhelming.

His cute, little assistant. His beloved (and favorite) student. He knew every little detail about you. The amount of classes you took, your extracurricular activities. Where you graduated from high school. Your grades, your GPA, the people you were friends with. Your favorite color, the shampoo and conditioner you used. Every bit of information, even where you lived. After all, an obsession with a new target wasn't uncommon for a man who hid behind a Ghost Face mask while committing mass murder.

Professor Satoru Gojo, the highly demanded teacher who used his good looks to his advantage, lived a double life. He was well known amongst the university folks. Professors and staff alike either envied or loved him. Students fawned over him, doing everything and anything in their power to get his attention. No matter what it took: playing dumb, dressing skimpy, batting their eyelashes... Of course Satoru knew what power he held, it was one of his many great tools to help him become the best at what he did. No one suspected him—the handsome man with snow white hair and crystal blue eyes—to be a psycho serial killer. Of course not, he was just so sweet and social. Much too loved for anyone to point fingers at him.

And like everyone before you—his victims—you fell into his trap. You fell for his kind words and suave actions. His gentle praises and soft touches. From the moment you first stepped foot into his classroom, with your baby blue tank top tucked into your white, tennis skirt... the matching cardigan and bright white sneakers, you truly were a rabbit in a wolf's den. It was impossible for him not to set his target on you, making you his next casualty. From the second you sat down at your desk to the moment he found out you were going to be his T.A., he knew he had to have you.

Satoru didn't spare a second in scheming. Plotting how to sugar you up, get you to drop your guard and to fall so easily into his knife—literally and metaphorically. It wasn't like he wanted to kill you, not yet, he just wanted to have fun. And you really looked like a good time with that lip gloss you wore and that sweet perfume you always sprayed on your neck and wrists—a scent that heightened his obsession.

His first week around you was getting to know you in the most subtle ways, casually asking you about your major and your schedule—for T.A. purposes, of course. That's how he learned your favorite study spot was under a specific tree in the open courtyard near the campus forest. How you hung out at the local cafe in the mornings with your best friends. He managed to learn your schedule so easily. You were such an open book to him, it must have been his pretty eyes that had you in a trance.

And that's how he spent his free time, lurking in the shadows in his beloved Ghost Face attire. His white mask, black hoodie and jeans, tied up boots and gloves. His lanky figure so easily hid behind the mass amount of towering trees on the campus.

Like how he was now, lurking behind the bushes and shrubbery, watching as you stood with your best friend—Nobara Kugisaki. As you were studying psychology, she was studying fashion but the two of you met in your shared photography class freshman year. (Yes, he knew every little detail even about how you made friends.)

The two of you were laughing, standing before one another as you held onto your notebook while Nobara was showing you something on her phone. The sound was music to his ears, a grin grew on his lips from behind his howling mask. Sure, he should have been grading mid-term exams, but how could he when his little assistant wasn't there to help? He knew you had a set schedule in which you followed, but that didn't mean you couldn't offer him some help on your free time. Instead of giggling over dumb videos, you should've been sat with him in his office, close enough for him to smell your intoxicating scent. Close enough for him to see the way your breasts pressed together when you were bent forward to review some of the papers you were helping grade. Close enough for him to feel your breath fanning his cheek.

Close enough for him to yank you down to your knees, unbuckle his belt and undo his pants so he could reach in and pull out his—

Loud laughter caused him to slip past the trees and away from the spot where he stalked. It was foolish of him to get dressed up and hide just to watch you in the middle of the day while the sun was out... but he couldn't help himself! Every second away from you was agonizing. He needed you there beside or even before him. There, so he knew no one else was getting in his way.

After all, he may have something to do with the disappearances of a few frat boys and other psychology majors... But no one needed to know that Ghost Face was behind that. Sure, the entity loved the attention—that's what everyone claimed whenever a corpse was found with a polaroid photo of Ghost Face and said victim was on the scene—but not when it could possibly lead back to him. He was very careful. Clean and cautious. Even with his brutal attacks and stabs, he never allowed himself to get carried away.

"So how's it been working alongside professor Gojo?" Nobara asked you as the two of you walked along one another. "You've made a lot of enemies out of that, y'know," she teased with a small snicker. "So many people want to be in your shoes. Everyone has a crush on him. Makes me wonder if you think he's hot?"

Bitting your inner cheek as you smiled, you then shook your head, "he's my supervisor and professor. But... I mean, I'm not blind. He's a very good looking man."

"Very good looking?" Nobara tilted her head.

"Okay, hot!" You laughed. "I mean, I work so close to him, I see and smell it all. Like, he dresses and smells so expensive... for a professor, even."

"Well, he is from the Gojo clan. One of the wealthiest families in all of Japan. Couldn't expect any less from a man like him. He, himself, looks pricey. As if he wasn't birthed but carefully crafted by all of the world's greatest fashion designers," Nobara waved a hand, earning another laugh from you.

For a bit longer you continued to talk, giggling about Gojo and then moving onto gossip Nobara had learned about within the few hours you've been on campus. After a while, you called it a day as you had to meet up with Gojo, telling Nobara you'd see her later, gaining the response of if you fuck him, Yuji owes me $100. This earned a gasp from you, but before you could even get a word out, Nobara rushed off.

"My favorite student!" Gojo exclaimed as you had walked into his office, greeting him with a kind smile and a small brown bag in your grip that you dangled. "Always feeding my sweet tooth," he beamed, taking the bag from you as you took your usual seat across from him, settling your bag down on the chair beside you. "Mochi from my beloved mochi," he happily sighed as he nearly swallowed the treats whole.

"Do I have to lecture you again about chewing your food?" You shook your head as you took the paper work from him that he had yet to touch. You knew the man very well, always keeping assignments stacked, whining about how he'd eventually get them done, only for you to complete them. "I swear, it's like your a child, Mr. Gojo."

"My little mochi cares about me," he batted his lashes from behind his silver rimmed glasses. You were used to the man wearing sunglasses indoors just as you were used to him calling you by treat names rather than your actual one. At one point you assumed he had forgotten your real name, but he easily proved you wrong... then proceeded to call you his little dango. "I won't die on you. Not by choking, that's for sure. How embarrassing," he scoffed before lifting his insanely long legs on his desk, crossing them at the ankle as he watched you work.

Moments like these where you were so focused and immersed in your grading, he took the opportunity to stare at you. You, being the oh so oblivious beauty you were, never called it out. Maybe you were used to it, maybe it was his sunglasses, but he was so obvious with the way he undressed you with his eyes. He wasn't even trying to hide it. The way he spotted your cleavage from your blouse, how your collarbones were just as exposed. The expanse of your neck... He found himself licking his lips then biting his tongue. Oh, how he'd love to sink his teeth into your body... just as much as he'd love to plunge a knife in you.

Well, maybe not that... maybe not yet... You were so youthful, so full of life. So dedicated to your schooling and friends. So loyal to him. Though, he tsked at your taste in men and may have paid a few a nice visit in the middle of the night... after all you belonged to him and only him.

"So I graded your midterm," he sang as you hummed back in response, eyes still glued on the assignments before you. "I am very proud of you, my little jelly bean."

"Is that so?" You smiled, still keeping your attention low, earning an annoyed eye roll from Gojo that you were unaware of.

"Yes," he breathed before lowering his feet and sitting properly at his desk. "I want to treat you," Gojo smirked. That got your attention.

"Oh, no. You shouldn't," you shook your head as you now eyed the frosted haired man before you.

"Oh... I should," he grinned. His pearly whites on display as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, exposing his sky blue eyes. "C'mon. I'm inviting you to dinner tonight to celebrate! You can't turn down you favorite, good looking, professor: Satoru Gojo!"

Smiling, you let out a small chuckle, "okay, fine! Let's go to dinner."

And that you did. Gojo had made you hurry up grading, giving you a time frame as he walked around his office and rearranged his shelves impatiently. You couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes at him, beyond used to his antics at this point after weeks of working so close to him. Once you were finished, Gojo so easily dragged you out of his space, away from the building it was situated in, and over to where his car was parked. He hadn't told you exactly where he had in mind, but when you arrived, you felt so underdressed. Of course, he reassured you with the good ol' no one denies a Gojo.

Dinner went smoothly, you had gone out a few times with him but strictly for lunch. You tried not seeing it any differently... even if the blue skies were replaced by endless stars.

"See? Wasn't so bad," Gojo smiled as the two of you stood in front of your apartment door. "I paid for the greatest dinner—and wine—you've ever had in your lifetime and I gave you a free ride home!" He gestured to your door as you shook your head.

"Mind you, you invited me and then insisted to take me home," you reminded as Gojo shrugged. "Thank you for dinner and the ride, get home safe, Mr. Gojo. I know you can take care of yourself, but, I wouldn't want to lose someone like you with what's going on."

Those words really did him wonders. The pang in his chest? How his heart fluttered? The way his face dropped for a split second just to pick back up that sneaky grin... You truly were worth keeping around for a bit. With those sweet words and that gorgeous face of yours... he couldn't dispose of you. Not yet. He needed you badly. And, luckily, you just lead the big bad wolf to your front door. "Good night, my sweet cinnamon bun."

"Good night, professor," you chuckled before unlocking your door, walking in, and shutting it behind you.

Standing there with his hands deep in his pockets, he eyed his surroundings before squatting. Lifting your welcome mat, searching the twin pots that sat parallel to your front door, he then found your spare key hidden within the soil. "Oh, sweetheart... you're too easy..."

After a nice shower, changing into your cozy pajamas and drinking a nice cup of sleepy-time tea, you found yourself deep into your slumber. You were quite exhausted from the school day, Gojo also knew how to drain the energy from you with his excitement and never ending flow of words that spilled out of his mouth. But, you didn't mind, he was a kind man and he kept you entertained.

Grateful for his light footsteps for such a lanky body, Gojo pulled your door shut behind him as he eyed his surroundings. Like the genius murder he was, he made a copy of your spare care before placing the original back. Then, snatched his hidden items, pulled on his all black ensemble and mask, and made his way back to your home. He had hoped you would've invited him in earlier, but maybe you had enough of him for the day... or you were being cautious since he was your supervisor and it wouldn't be wise to have him in your personal living space.

Whatever, he thought. He used the moonlight to help guide him around your home. Eyeing the set up, remembering all the windows and the balcony. Keeping track of where he could and couldn't slip through by checking weak locks. He then eyed your belongings. The photos and art you kept around. Wasn't a whole lot, but they were there.

Quietly checking doors, finding a closet and bathroom, he then spotted your bedroom. The door was closed, much to his dismay. He had hoped you were asleep, not wanting to make his presence known just yet. Sighing, he slowly, and quietly twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Perfect, he grinned from behind his mask. You were dead asleep, resting on your side as you were curled up into a ball. Cute. Taking out his phone, he snapped a few shots of you sleeping. Up close and from afar, getting sight of your bedroom, too.

Taking a step back, he eyed his surroundings before gently pulling drawers open and pushing them closed. A section for pajamas, folded t-shirts, gym wear... your panties... His grin grew bigger as he rustled through it, spotting your lace numbers and thongs. It made him wonder what you had worn that night. Quietly closing the drawer and turning on his heel, he went over to your hamper and pushed pieces of clothing to a side, only to find a little black number.

Sniffing it before stuffing it into his pocket, he decided to call it a night.

That one would be the first of many.

Days of breaking in turned into weeks. Gojo was strategic about it, coming in at the late hours he knew you were asleep. And if you were out? He was hurt. However, it didn't stop him from stealing more of your items and rearranging others. He wanted to test you, see if you would pick up on the changes. You may be a bit oblivious, but you were a smart girl. He was too good at what he did, maybe that's why you never noticed... or maybe you had? He wouldn't know. It wasn't like you'd confide in your beloved professor about little things like that, would you?

Maybe it was time he made his presence known. After all, he had enough of playing with his food.

The sound of something toppling over made you jolt in your sleep. Usually, you were a heavy sleeper, but after noticing little things around your home being moved—like your jewelry or your framed photos—you had been a bit on edge lately. You had told Nobara about it, but she said it probably was a ghost that's haunting your place. You weren't really a believer, but you also weren't a non-believer.

However, you hated how Nobara wasn't wrong. It wasn't an actual, supernatural being. Not a legit ghost that was of an entity lurking... no, more like, a living being hiding behind a ghost mask.

You had gone to check on what had fallen, searching your little apartment to see nothing was out of place. A sense of relief had washed over you, more than ready to go back to bed... but the ghost thought otherwise.

An arm wrapped around your waist as a hand covered your mouth and more. It was large, just enough to block your nose, too, if they wanted. You instantly panicked, thrashed around and tried to free yourself, but the person before you was much too strong and instead pushed you onto your bed before aiming a hunting knife at your throat. "Now, now, I wouldn't cause a ruckus if I were you, sweetheart."

Gulping at the towering figure before you dressed in all black, a howling mask covering their face, you clutched onto your bedsheets as you tried to stay still. Your heart was racing and tears filled your eyes. You could kick him, maybe try and use something you learned in self defense classes... but the knife at your neck and the mask before you had you too stunned.

"You're so pretty, I couldn't kill ya..." he sighed through the voice modulator. "But a little prick..." piercing your skin lightly as a dribble of blood pooled up, the intruder watched you wince with a chuckle. "Hmm... that should do it for me for now..."

"I— I don't have much but you— you can take my money or— or my jewelry—"

"Nah, I don't want any of that shit," he waved a hand nonchalantly before he swiftly leaned into you, causing you to gasp at the sudden action. "I'm not superficial. I have my eyes on something else instead..."

Watching as he leaned his face into your neck as he took in a rather loud inhale, sniffing your scent, you shivered once again as you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. "Take whatever, please, just leave... leave me alone..."

Snickering as he pulled his head away, Ghost Face sighed as he was pressing one knee in between your legs. "Can't do that... don't wanna disturb the peace too much, y'know?"

Opening your eyes, you furrowed your brows. "Wh— What?"

"Well, I can't take what I want because, well... you live here and I don't wanna kidnap you or anything. That's no fun," he shook his head as you blinked, gulping at his words. He wanted... you? But why?!

"Me? No— Why? Why do you want me?" You shook your head, crawling back, only for him to catch your ankle and drag you back, mask nearly pressing into your face as you flinched.

"You're just so... perfect," he grinned—you knew he did from within the mask. "I'll see you around, cutie." Patting your cheek a bit too roughly with his leather glove covered hand, the intruder slipped away, deep into the shadows and disappeared from your sight.

It was a nightmare. It wasn't real. It was a dream. It was something your mind conjured. That's what you told yourself the days that followed that night. You were shaken up but told no one. You weren't sure if it had been true or not. It could've been some sort of sleep paralysis. A vivid dream? In reality, you couldn't even remember much... it was far too blurry, it was late into the night, maybe you hallucinated.

You carried on with life, not letting whatever that was stop you. You'd have to do some research. You were a psych major, there had to be something out there. Being a good student and an assistant was your top priority, whatever the hell that was, you would put it in the back seat. You didn't need to ponder too much on it... even if... you felt like you were constantly being watched.

"Hey, KitKat, you've been out of it lately. You're not all there during my lectures or, well... now," Gojo frowned as he leaned over you from behind.

You were seated at his desk, aimlessly staring as you weren't even bothering with the assignments before you. You felt his presence behind you as he had bent at the hip, head coming into view beside you. "Sorry... it's just..." sighing, you rubbed your face. "I don't know, I feel like I'm being watched. Maybe I'm paranoid... Maybe I watch too many scary movies before bed," you awkwardly chuckled as you turned your head to look at him.

"Let me take you out to dinner to get your mind off of things," he said, standing up straight with his hands buried in his slacks. "Food is always a good pick me up. I can also take us out to get ice cream!" He beamed as you softly smiled.

"I appreciate it—"

"No buts!" He lifted a finger. "Dinner, dessert... and a movie! Yes, I know there's a new movie I've been dying to see," Gojo said with a nod, already planning the evening. "I won't be taking a no for an answer, biscuit."

Sighing, you settled your work down. "Okay..."

"It'll be so worth it, trust me," he winked before pushing his sunglasses back. "You'll have the best night ever."

Gojo wasn't lying when he uttered those words to you with such promise and excitement. Yet again, he took you to a restaurant where the food made your taste buds explode from the feast. Everything was delicious and more, almost enough to keep your mind busy. Almost. You were still a bit on edge, your little sporadic smiles fading away every time your mind wandered off and looked blankly out the window.

However, being at the movie theater was different. There really wasn't anywhere to look out at and think so deeply, nor was there time to ponder over was it real or not when you were alone with your supervisor. When you were alone with the Satoru Gojo.

He knew what he was doing. He started off with gentle caresses to your exposed knee. Comforting touches to keep your mind at ease—or, probably not. Not with what he had in mind. He knew he was the cause of your paranoia, but boy if it wasn't fun toying with your emotions. Being the one to break you down and build you up. It made his blood rush straight to his now semi-hard cock.

You didn't stop the feather-like touches from their movements up your thigh. A part of you knew it was wrong, but a bigger part of you was begging for anything to keep your mind busy. The movie wasn't enough, though it was quite the comedy, you still needed more to keep your mind... well, empty. If that was what was going to help you.

Placing your hand on his as you inched it closer to your heat, you felt his eyes on you within the darkness of the theater before you turned your focus. Meeting his, you leaned over and closed the gap separating you two. You weren't so sure what possessed you, what made you so bold, but you were desperate. Needy for anything. Anything to help you forget.

Your subtle kiss of gentle pecks turned into tongues meeting and breaths fanning. You guided his fingers higher before you removed your hand to let him do the rest. Reaching over to clutch the back of his neck as you felt his long fingers slip under you panties, you scooted closer and parted your knees further.

He couldn't stop smiling. God, this was what he was aching for for so long. To finally taste your lips, to feel your drenched pussy against his fingertips. All because you needed to forget about his alter ego. He wondered, would you have done this with another man if he wasn't around? He didn't like the thought. All you needed was him and only him. No other man could satisfy you like he could. After all, he was the one who lead you to this point and he was going to go all the way. Fuck with your mind just like he knew he was going to fuck your tight pussy.

Your breathing quickened as you felt his long fingers tease you, his middle pushing into your hole as you hooked your leg over his to feel more. Gojo used his free hand to hold your jaw as his tongue licked into your mouth. Every chance he got to pull away, your saliva would keep you two connected before snapping and staining your chin. And every time he pulled away, he was always so quick to push his tongue back in—just like his fingers. Two of them now fucking in and out of you.

There was no point in watching the movie anymore, your entertainment was Gojo's tongue and skilled fingers. Maybe it was working, after all, your brain was slowly turning into mush as you felt yourself climaxing.

It didn't take long for you to move it to your bedroom. You left the movie before it ended, rushing to his car as he brought you home. You tugged him in by the collar of his shirt as you brought his lips to yours once again. A trail of clothes lead to your bed as Gojo found himself fully naked before your own nude body. He so eagerly ate your pussy like it was his last meal, lapping up your juices and fucking your hole with his tongue, explicit moans leaving both of you. Your thighs were covered up in bites and bruises, and your hips would soon be covered in his fingertips aftermath.

"I told you you'd have the best night ever," Gojo breathed as he thrusted deeply into you, his tip kissing your cervix with every languid movement of his hips. He smiled down at you, white locks hanging over his eyes as his cheshire cat grin was all you could see. A hint of his hungry, lustful eyes peeking through his bangs as he held onto the back of your knees. "Aren't I the best professor? I truly care for my favorite student, hmm? I give her the best one-on-one session..." he breathed.

Clutching onto your bed sheets as sweat clung to your body while moans left your parted lips, you couldn't form coherent sentences. "Mmh... Best... Best— Oh, Mr. Gojo—"

"Please," he shook his head before leaning in, lips hovering yours as he continued to fuck into you deeply, "call me Satoru."

"Satoru," you cried as your eyes squeezed shut the moment you felt his finger rubbing your sensitive clit. "Please— I'm gonna— Oh— There!" You whined as he continued his ministrations, grinning at the sight of you coming undone for a third time before him. You were practically drooling, hair in disarray, skirt flipped over your stomach, panties shoved in the back pocket of his slacks, blouse and bra long gone to leave your bouncing breasts on display—one of his many canvases covered in his bites.

He should've been gentle with you, sure, but he did promise you the best night... and what was love making going to do for you when raw fucking was going to make you go completely brainless?

You had never come like that in your life. You stained your sheets and your essence was all over Satoru's skin. He had never been prouder to fuck you so good you soaked him, too. He just wished it was all over his face instead... He'll get there eventually. Maybe a certain homicidal maniac should pay you a visit soon for some fun?

"'m gonna fill you up so good, 'kay? Make you my very own sweet treat with my seed spilling out of you, mhm? God, the most exquisite little thing ever," he breathed as he felt his abdomen tighten, his grip on you tightening to the point you whimpered as he came. It was almost endless, he fucked you slowly, ropes and ropes filling you up before Gojo let go of your legs and nearly collapsed on top of you. He stayed inside of you, even when he went soft. He couldn't seem to pull out, the feeling of being buried within you was much too wonderful to remove himself from. "You feeling better?" He breathed against your ear before biting on the soft skin below it.

"Mhm..." you hummed with a weak nod and hooded eyes, unable to keep them open. "So... so much... better..." you breathed, eyes falling closed as Gojo sat up enough to eye you, giving your lips a small kiss before sucking on your bottom lip, then pulling away.

"My pretty, little, peach," he smiled, kissing your chin and neck, slowly pulling out as a small whimper left you. Leaning back to watch his fill leak out of you, Gojo swiped up and pushed in as much as he could before pressing the rest on your tongue—in which you lazily lapped up with closed eyes.

You were exhausted, completely spent and full of him. He was filled with a sense of pride. His favorite muse all covered in him. His kisses, his bites, his saliva and anything in between. You were all his. Finally.

Eyeing your now resting figure as you so easily passed out, Gojo quietly stood up and cleaned himself up before he so kindly wiped you up—not after snapping a few photos of your leaking hole, bruised skin, and swollen lips (featuring your tear stained cheeks!) with his phone. Proud of his work, he fixed himself, zipped up his pants and readjusted his shirt. Staring at you for a bit, a sigh of defeat left him as he pulled off your skirt and tossed it to a side before slipping under your bedsheets with you.

He could go for a round two and fuck your sleeping body—he was sure you wouldn't mind—but he had exhausted you as it was. He was feeling generous. So, he stayed rested with you for a bit as you curled into him. He watched you sleep for what felt like hours before he left a few kisses on your lips and slipped away.

Leaving a note on your nightstand, caressing your face and stealing one last kiss, Gojo left your apartment satisfied and satiated.

For now.

The two of you acted like nothing happened. At least, out in the open. When you were attending his lectures or greeting one another in public, you kept things civil—like how they were before. To say you were nervous or embarrassed at first was an understatement. You were worried. Afraid you crossed the line... however... the very next day when you were back on campus said otherwise. And every day after that when you found yourself with your legs spread, pussy bare and getting absolutely devoured by Gojo at his desk in his office. Of course, it was a two way street. You made sure his aching length got equal attention from your small mouth and tight throat, letting him fuck your face and come all over it.

There were plenty of instances where his seed dripped down your cheeks or leaked out of your mouth. Just like there were many times where Gojo's lips glistened with your juices.

It had been so long. At least it felt like it. Maybe Gojo and your classes really kept your mind busy you had nearly forgotten about him. Your unfriendly, neighborhood, stalker. Murderer. Homicidal maniac. You name it.

You didn't dream it. You didn't hallucinate it. He was very much real and he was very much standing before you in your tiny living room. "Little kitten has claws," Ghost Face said as you stood your ground, clutching a kitchen knife. "Oh, baby... I missed you."

"I didn't miss you," you nearly whispered, trembling in your spot.

"But... didn't you? I'm sure you thought about me every single day. The big bad man who breaks into your home, lurks in the shadows... steals your panties," those words instantly made you flustered as your eyes widened. He took a mental note of that. "Oh, yeah, your missing panties? All belong to me know. You know, you've got a lovely scent. I can only imagine how that pussy tastes—"

"Stay back!" You exclaimed, lifting the knife, but the masked murderer laughed.

"Oh, Bambi, I know you have a very creative mind. Haven't you been curious about me? Haven't you imagined what it's like to get fucked by a murderer? Plenty of women fantasize about it. It's a common role play," he said with a nod as you bit your tongue. "Here, we can act it out! I promise, if you go along, you won't die tonight," he said as he lifted a gloved hand, lifting his index finger as he inched closer to you.

"You're— You're insane," you shook your head.

"I'm very well aware of that," he shrugged. "But, is it insane to want to stay alive? C'mon, that tight, little pussy wants to get wrecked by my fat cock. Just say the words," he sung as you shook your head. "Don't be such a fucking brat." Lunging forward as you gasped, he knocked the knife out of your grip before tugging your head back by your hair. Lifting his mask just enough, his lips crashed onto yours. A hint of mint lingering as his tongue dove into your mouth, feeling your walls and tasting you. You squirmed, tried to put up a fight and push him away, but he was much too strong.

Suddenly, a hiss left you as the tip of his knife made contact with your cheek. A small slice followed by his wet tongue licking away your droplets of blood made you shiver.

"Mmm," he hummed as he lowered his mask and let go of your hair before slumping forward. "Your mouth and blood, wow!" He nodded before lifting his index and thumb to form an okay with them. "So, what's your answer? Gonna let me fuck you raw? Gonna live for another day? I think it's an easy yes, hmm? Nothin' like a good ol' dickin' down to get you through the night. So easy."

"I am not... going to die... by your filthy hands," you breathed with the cutest mean face you could muster.

God, you were a keeper. "Then... I guess fucking it is!" He cheered as you winced.

That's how you found yourself underneath a masked man with his dick drilling into your poor pussy. You reminded yourself why you were there, why you would... agree? to this. He fucked into you like a jack hammer, fully clothed and enjoying the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so.

You kept your eyes focused elsewhere, trying to imagine it as anyone else, as someone you actually wanted. Like Gojo. But... you'd be lying if you said... it didn't feel good. The way his hips gyrated and rocked. How his cock pounded into you in an unholy manner. How the mystery of the man behind the mask somehow enticed you.

It was wrong, so wrong. You hated this. You did. You didn't want this. You didn't want this. But why... why did it feel so good?

Before you could reach your climax, the mystery man slotted his face in between your legs, lifting his mask enough to lick and fuck your pussy. His teeth making you shiver, his tongue thrusting and tasting your wetness. How he nearly bit your clit as you shrieked. He shifted between his fingers and tongue, overstimulating you and your sensitive nub as you clung onto your pillow. He chased your orgasm with a menacing snicker against your slick folds, enticing your release, fucking your hole so hard that you'd squirt all over him—just as he wanted.

The pants that left your body, the heavy breaths and the discomfort—yet relief—you felt were all consuming as the man stayed between your thighs. He was in the midst of licking his lips and lapping up whatever else he could from your orgasm, too focused on being drunk off of your pussy to even realize you were reaching towards him.

Reaching for his mask and just about to snatch it off, Ghost Face was quick to catch on. Moving away from you and reaching for the knife he had sheathed while fixing his mask, he gripped the hilt and aimed it at your heart as his voice boomed, "don't you fucking try that again or I'll fucking gut you like a fish, got that, whore?!"

Nodding profusely as tears so easily streamed down your face, the man stood from your bed and fixed his pants before sheathing his knife once again, watching you tremble and cry as you cowered away.

He was livid, beyond furious. He let his guard down and you almost revealed him? You were asking to get your throat slit.

He had to be careful around you.

He didn't want to kill you, not you, you were too fun. He was growing attached. So he slipped out of your home like a ghost once again and left you there to sob. The kill count for that evening would be the highest, the news would spread in the morning and you'd feel the guilt of the innocent lives taken on your shoulders.

"Can you stay the night...?" You shyly asked Gojo as he had come over on one of the sporadic nights you two would meet in secret. "I know you shouldn't but with a serial killer on the loose and going on a rampage as of late—"

"No need to explain," he said as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head as he did so. "I know it hasn't been easy for everyone. I wouldn't let anything happen to you, doughnut."

Giving him a weak smile, you nuzzled his chest. Your empty takeout containers sat at your coffee table as an old movie from a few decades back played on your TV. "Thank you, Satoru."

"Anything for you," he sweetly spoke as you looked up at him. Those mesmerizing eyes and those dazzling teeth... He was so handsome it truly hurt.

Leaning up to kiss him, you moved a leg over his lap to straddle him. The blanket you two shared fell over as you wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. Your tongue meeting his as his large hands gripped your ass and massaged the weight in his palms.

Running your fingers through his hair before sliding them down his neck, you unbuttoned his dress shirt further than it already was, slipping your hands beneath the cotton fabric. Feeling his toned chest and warm skin, you brought your lips down his throat, leaving a trail of red blotches along the way to his pecks, hearing his breathing increase.

Your hands found their way to the bulge protruding from his black slacks, massaging his trapped length with your palm as Gojo slid his own hand between your thighs. He could feel the wetness the pooled on your panties, teasing your aching cunt through the thin material as you began to rock your hips against him.

Quiet pleads left either of you as you undid his belt and zipper, pulling out his length as you began to pump his leaking cock with your tiny fist. Gojo pulled your panties down before letting them snap into place as you yelped. Dipping his hand into the thong you wore, he slid his fingers along your wetness, moaning at both your touch and the slick between his fingers.

Pulling his hand out as he sucked on his index and middle, you watched him with hungry eyes, whining and begging him to fuck you with them. Without hesitation, he slid his hand back in, fucking your pussy with little resistance as you jerked him off.

Pumping each other as you both moaned and hissed at the sensation at an incoming orgasm, the two of you pressed your foreheads together as you chased your mutual releases, coming into each others palms with heavy breaths. You watched as he licked his fingers clean once again, groaning at your taste before you leaned down to give his head kitten licks, teasing him before standing to your feet and tugging him with you to your bed.

"I've got an idea..." you said in a rather sultry voice, giving Gojo a wink before you pushed him onto your bed. Tugging off his pants and removing his shirt, you got him down to nothing but bare skin as you then reached into your nightstand and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Oh?" Gojo arched an eyebrow as you bit your bottom lip. "What do you have in mind?"

"I just... wanna try something with you..." you batted your lashes, playing innocent. "I wanna cuff you to my bed and fuck you... please?"

Eyeing you as his heart raced and cock twitched, he grinned, "I can't deny my sweet girl..."

Smiling happily, you straddled him and cuffed his wrists, then leaned in to whisper in his ear, "maybe I'll let you eat my pussy, too."

"Fuck, I'd love nothing more for you to ride my face," he breathed, watching you giggle as you pulled away from him.

"Okay, I've got another surprise," you nodded. "Close your eyes for me, 'toru."

Closing his eyes with an eager grin, excited for what else you had in store, Gojo felt his insides twist from anticipation. "You've got me feeling like I'm about to get the greatest treat."

"Oh, you will... You'll get your just desserts."

Furrowing his eyebrows, he opened his eyebrows, "huh?"

"Look familiar?" You tilted your head, holding up a mask in one and and a knife in the other. Not just any mask and knife—a Ghost Face mask and a hunting knife. His mask. His knife. "Oh, it does, doesn't it?"

"What— What the fuck—"

Seeing the look of pure shock on Gojo's face, you shook your head. "Don't play dumb," leaning in, you aimed his knife at his throat. "Didn't think I'd know? You always think you're ten steps ahead. Smarter than everyone. But, even you, the worlds smartest serial killer, have your own slip ups."

"Baby, angel, sweetheart— I— I have no idea what you're talking about!" He panicked, shaking his head and tugging at the cuffs that kept him tied down. "Please! What— What're you—"

Pricking the skin on his neck—just like he did to you—you then brought the knife to his cheek and pressed against the skin before sliding down. "How does it feel to be on the other side?"

"I— I don't know what the hell you're talking about?! You're freaking me—"

"Great," you sighed. "I guess I'll have to paint the picture for you."

It was 6 months ago. You remembered it so easily. You were working on your final assignment for your Intro to Photography class—one you shared with your best friend, Nobara, as to get some electives out of the way. You loved nighttime photos, always finding them to be your best. At the park, the beach, abandoned malls and late nights at supermarkets. Then you tried your campus, knowing the university grounds had some nice landscapes and views.

You didn't expect to see much action. Students had late classes but not that late. You had showed up ten till midnight, wanting some good photos of the moon and pretty reflections off of surfaces. Truly, you were just going to snap some photos and call it a night. Security was around, you weren't too scared of being alone.

However, you weren't really alone.

It must've been the wrong place at the wrong time. You had seen it, the lanky man in the distance. He didn't notice you as you were crouched behind bushes, getting photos of the courtyard. Your camera had zoomed in on him. The tall figure dressed in all black, almost in a rush. He carried something in his grip, you weren't sure.

So you followed.

You quietly kept your distance when you realized who it was. Professor Gojo. Why had he been there so late? What was he doing? Stopping behind a tree as you watched him enter the building, you spotted the light of an office space turn on as you zoomed in again. You watched as he shut his door behind him, the crack in his blinds giving you enough to see. He unlocked a drawer and slid it open before lifting a mask and a... bloody knife?

Your heart skipped a beat.

He settled both in the drawer before removing the gloves he had on. Black and leather. Your mind was racing, thoughts being assumed. You quickly hid yourself again before slipping away and rushing as fast as possible before he or anyone could spot you.

"It all made sense," you said as you recited that night. "It was no coincidence. You grew obsessed with me not too long after. I wondered if you knew, but I guess not. Maybe you're the oblivious one here and I just acted the part..." you shrugged, eyeing his knife as you lifted it from his neck. "You know... you may have a voice modulator to cover you... but, you think I wouldn't notice other things? The way you fucked me? The way you ate my pussy? Crazy, I know, it's the little things. But I noticed..." looking down at his hip bone and pointing at a scar, you nodded, "yeah... I noticed the scar and I spotted it when a sliver of your skin appeared from your Ghost Face attire...

"Then, of course, the way you kissed me. When you lifted your mask just enough, I noticed the little wisps of white. You really aren't that smart, now, huh?" You chuckled as the horrified man before you bit down roughly and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" He seethed as you smiled.

"Oh, a psych major like me is really lucky, I guess. Getting into the world of criminology and having the feared Ghost Face killer right before me? Maybe I'm lucky. Maybe I'm a bit insane. I mean, I got to pull this off for half a year..." you trailed as Gojo squinted his eyes. "What I want to know is..." you leaned in before tapping his forehead with the hilt of his knife, "what goes on in this twisted, psychotic mind of yours, Satoru Gojo," you smiled. "Or, really, should I say... Ghost Face?"

an: I didn't really mention it but I guess I should say it in case y'all are wondering... reader managed to snatch his mask and knife bc she knew where he kept them hidden and being his TA, she more than likely studied him like he studied her and figured where the key to the drawer was! anyway, this was sm fun to write, I wanted to write some "horror" au's for this month so here's my first! no part two, sorry, but... I personally like to think these two psychos team up and go absolutely feral on the world? I mean... we got the murderer and the brains, what a power couple— anyway, what do you all think? How do you think things would go? would one of them die? would he get caught? idk it's really a free for all kinda ending

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