#i have SUCH a good plot for preventing the second coming | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 7 months

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𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇[𝐞𝐫]!! | t. fushiguro + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time, look around the area before you say you find a serial killer attractive. Because you’re about to see what mess your words will have you end up in — and your clothes all torn up.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: serial killers! Toji + Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - age gap (the reader is in their early 20s) - porn with plot - oral (f! + m! receiving) - threesome - double penetration; anal (first time) & vaginal - restricted movement (hands tied up) - face-sitting - cowgirl dp positions - gun + knife play - choking - spanking - unprotected sex - overstimulation - degradation (brat, broad, slut, whore) - pet names (baby, dollface, good girl, pet, princess) - blackmail/threats - the reader is in an established relationship w/ Nanami - mentions of blood, tears, spit, and drool.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k (told you, porn with plot, lol)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: uhhhh happy Friday the 13th, everybody???? blame @ramonathinks for this idea (jk, don't, she's so amazing, ty for pushing me into this, mona bear ♡ and tysm for beta reading; your thoughts mean the world). Haven't done a fic in two months sooooo go easy on me!! Not proofread, so I'll fix stuff l8rrrr

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Y/n! Just answer the question!”

“You’re so fucking sick, you know that!?” You glare at your friend, who slumps on the booth chair with a heavy sigh.

A slight breeze tickles your skin through your comfortable sweatshirts as the leaves on the trees slowly change to autumnal colors, and Halloween decor is already adorning every house and every yard. It was a warm and sunny afternoon on this pleasant Friday. Usually, you’d be cozied up in your apartment enjoying yourself, probably catching up on some horror flicks you missed last year.

But alas, that was not the case. Because you’re a college student. As October has finally rolled around, only one thing prevents you from enjoying this beautiful season — midterms. The thought of it is enough to pull you into a pool of dread. Every day has been one whirlwind after another. Yet, on the bright side, all you have now is one last exam to worry about, and you’ll finally be able to rest this weekend. So here you are, at the diner with your best friend, Shoko Ieiri, completing your papers while eating off your plates to satiate the stress. For the most part, things were going smoothly.

Until the news anchor on the television at the bar relays an announcement…

“…Once again, everyone, please be on the lookout for these two killers on the loose. Three weeks ago, the two recently escaped from their cells, killed three guards, and are still at large. There have been accounts around the state that reported recent sightings of either or both criminals, the recent one being in this county 27 hours ago. So, please, stay safe. The killers are identified to be…”

And Shoko, being the curious person she is, asks you a question that stops your fingers from typing on your laptop: “Do you find those killers hot?”

That’s how you two end up where you are now, groaning at the brunette’s persistence in getting your approval to find two criminals — murderers, even! — attractive.

“Hey, Y/n, I know you hear me.” Shoko snaps their fingers at you while you try to get the assignment done. “Just answer the question: don’t you think those guys are hot.”

“We didn’t come all this way for you to talk about your hybristophilia fantasies.” Facing the Word document, you remind your friend why you’re here in the first place. “Just get back to writing; I wanna finish this and get home.” There’s nothing said afterward for a few seconds, thinking she has finally given up.

However, “First of all,” your eyes close to conceal them rolling behind the lids. “I’m not into hybristophilia; I just know a hot guy when I see one. Second, look at their mugshots. Like, damn, you’ve ever seen anyone so intimidatingly good-looking before? Come on, have a look!”

“You’re such a weirdo,” the click-clacking of your fingertips tapping your keyboard fills the rest of your answer.

Still, she persists. “Y/n, look at the phoooone~”

No words, only tapping keys.

“Y/n?”

The keys become louder.

“Pretty, pretty, pleaseeeee~?”

Louder.

“Y/n!!”

A fist bangs on the booth table as the other closes the laptop shut, sending another glare to the person across from you who holds the phone up. You’ve had it at this point, so you say with a steady breath, “If I look at the dumb mugshots and answer your dumb question, will your dumbass leave me alone and finish your work?” The brunette only puts the phone on the table and slides it your way, giving you big doe eyes and whimpers like a hurt puppy. You sigh with your nostrils as you snatch the phone up, your gaze stationed on the images presented.

The image displayed two mugshots: on the left was a man with raven hair and a scar on the left of his lip. Intense, forest-green orbs contrast the black strands that cover his forehead. The mugshot letter board below him is labeled as "Toji Fushiguro." The one on the right is another man with spiky salmon-colored hair pushed upfront with prominent black tattoos decorating his nose, cheeks, and forehead. The board named him as “Sukuna Ryōmen.”

You look at the pictures intently, examining the men’s features at your discretion. It didn’t occur to you how long you were gawking at the mugshots until you peered from the phone to see Shoko give you the biggest shit-eating grin. Shaking your head, you chew the inside of your cheek before responding.

“….Well,” you cough. “…they’re not terrible looking at all. They are…..hot.”

“Told you!” Shoko slams the table with high enthusiasm, earning another sigh from you as she snatches the phone back. “Would you fuck them?”

You almost popped a vein. What the fuck—“is wrong with you!?”

“It’s just a question, geez.” She holds her hands up defensively. “Or is that too lewd and raunchy to ask the partner of the trusting, charismatic “Golden Boy” SGA president, Kento Nanami?”

You choke on your spit before you can say anything, and your cheeks dial in warmth. “S-Shut up! Don’t bring my love life into whatever deviant horny thoughts you’re thinking!”

“I’m sorry, I’m boreeeeeeed. I don’t wanna do this paper, ugh.” The brunette whines and bangs their forehead on the table surface; your eyes roll for the fifteenth time in the past three hours. “…Maybe I should get some dick after this.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m going to use the restroom.”

You exit the dining booth when they give you a muffled response of anguish, straightening yourself and heading for the back of the diner. As you walked away, you noticed a pair of hooded figures sitting at the booth behind you. Realization kicks in, and you groan internally. Oh, God, they probably heard what we were talking about! But what caught your mind next was that one of them had a black mark on the bridge of their nose. Huh, what an odd tattoo…

After using the toilet, you wash your hands at the sink, but your mind is still fixated on that weird tattoo. Who would get such a thing on their face? Wouldn’t that hurt? I wonder if that’s the only tatt— And then It clicked, you quickly turn off the faucet and dry your hands, exit the rest restroom, and run to your booth. Shoko was begrudgingly typing away on their laptop until she saw you return in a hurry.

“Hey, you okay?” She asks you, but you aren’t looking at them. Your face contoured to a confused expression as you stared at the booth behind the one you were sitting in, now empty.

“Did…..The two people who sat behind us, did you see them?”

“Hmm? No, I didn’t. Must’ve left while my head was on the table.”

“Uh huh…” you say nothing more as you slowly sit back in front of your laptop. Your mind is now clouded with confusing thoughts, questioning your experience up until now. It could be a coincidence, quite far out at that. Regardless, you could’ve sworn you saw that tattoo on the Sukuna guy that Shoko showed you. It was such an uncommon decor, especially since you just saw it on the face of a criminal. Not to mention, the news anchor earlier stated that those two killers were in this exact county…

Needless to say, you didn’t touch your keyboard for about twenty minutes. Your mind was too wrapped up elsewhere to think clearly about your school assignment, and your body harbored a disturbing chill worse than the soft autumn winds.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…So, why are you researching about the loose killers again?”

“Hm? Oh,” you stop typing on the laptop to attend to the phone call you’re on. Exiting your bedroom, you walk to the living room. “No reason, I was just curious. I saw something about them on the news at the diner with Shoko.”

The person on the other side of the line hums. “You should be careful about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I know, Kenty,” you open the sliding door to your balcony and close it behind you before taking a seat on the cream-colored swing chair.

“I’m very serious, Y/n.” It was none other than Kento Nanami who was speaking with you. The trustworthy “Golden Boy” of your class year, the circumspect president of the Student Government Association… your loving and attentive boyfriend.

"I know you are."

"And those guys aren't just any usual criminals. They're notorious killers who barge into people's homes at night to steal valuable things. Maybe even kill their victims in their sleep if they have the time. So, be very careful, okay? Can’t trust these streets at night, especially now with those guys on the run. So, don’t go anywhere alone, always have your pepper spray on you, and be sure everything is locked — doors, windows, everything.”

A deep sigh leaves your lips. “Yeah, I double-checked all the locks once I got inside.”

No one says a word; the rustling of the trees and the beeping of cars from the traffic at the light substitute this awkward silence. Until Nanami says, “….You scared?”

You don’t answer immediately, your mind flashing back to the bewildering encounter at the diner earlier today. Those two hooded men, one with a black tattoo on his face. It felt too surreal to feel like a coincidence, yet it wasn’t too far out of your mind to think as such. The timing was strange, with the news reporter and your conversation with Shoko. The thought of two murderers nonchalantly being in the same space as you rub you off in the worst way imaginable. “…Kinda, yeah. A bit spooked.”

“You want me to come up there and spend the night?”

“No, no! You don’t have to do that,” you hurriedly decline his proposal. “I know you’re busy with homework and student government stuff. I wouldn’t want you moving around so much; I’d feel bad.”

You hear him chuckle on the other side of the phone, and your heart swoons at the sound. “Don’t feel bad; you could never be a burden to me, especially when your safety is my top priority.” Another skip of the beat; it’ll never fail to amaze you how sweet he is with his words.

“Thank you, Kenty. But still, I know you’ve got a lot on your hands. You don’t have to see me right this moment. Besides, isn’t Haibara supposedly dragging you to some party at Geto’s?” Nanami is silent for a few seconds before he groans; a smile creeps up on your face at his reaction.

“Unfortunately, yes. I have to leave to pick him up, and then we can go…But I can cancel and come o—“

“Absolutely not.” You’re quick to interject. “You’ve been so high and on edge with your exams. This is the first party after midterm week. And I can bet my left toe that Gojo — cause you know he’ll be there if Geto is — will be upset you couldn’t make it.”

“…….Which one?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have five toes on your left foot, so which one—“

“Kento.” He chuckles once more for your ears to hear at the use of his real name. “Have fun, okay?”

Nanami hums. “I’ll try. I’ll come by your place Sunday. Sounds good?”

“Perfect. Take some pics for me. Love you!”

Your boyfriend bids you farewell before ending the call, already missing his voice. A yawn creeps out from you, a sign that you are indeed fatigued and need rest. Leaving the balcony, you close the door and do a final check at your door. Confirmed that it’s locked and secured, you turn off the living room lights and head back to your bedroom to get some shut-eye.

You shut off and close your laptop on your desk before turning off the lights. Then, you lift the comforter and finally enter the chilly embrace of your bedsheets. Usually, you’d scroll on your phone for a little bit until you get drowsy enough to fall asleep. Yet — it could be because of the exam you were doing at the diner — you felt way more exhausted than usual and wanted to sleep right away. And you did just that: closed your eyes, listened to the calming rhythm of your breaths, and soon drifted into an anticipated slumber.

….Three Hours Later….

The next time you open your eyes, you’re not in the room you left yourself in — let alone the bed.

Instead, you find yourself somewhere cold and dark. Your bed is nowhere in sight, just a lone chair facing you. There are no windows, no desks, just you and this chair with a sole overhead light that almost blinds you when you slowly get up.

The change of scenery throws you off as one thought after another picks up the pace of confusion. Where am I? What is this place? This has to be a sick dream of mine…Wait a minute. You look down to find your pajamas are shriveled and torn up, pieces of the material scattered all over where you’re lying on the cold floor. Also, what the fuck!? You can’t seem to move your hands and feet, noticing that there’s some rope restricting your limbs from moving freely from one another. No matter how hard you try, squirming does little to no help, yet it confirms that this is not a dream.

What the absolute fuck is going on right now!? It was an appropriate question for this perplexing situation, not knowing where to pick up from to start picking clues as to why you’re here. Better yet, who brought you here?

“Ah, look who’s awake.”

You turn to the sound of a door opening and closing; the direction it came from makes it hard to register the distance of whoever was speaking to you. However, that doesn’t matter because you can hear footsteps approaching you and a figure stepping into the light. And when the face finally comes to your field of vision, your blood shifts into an immediate icy cold.

Standing to you by the chair was a man in a tight black shirt that exhibited his muscular arms and physique way too perfectly, harboring dark and baggy pants. But those weren’t the features that had your breath hitch. No, no. The man before you had raven hair with the length stopped to his ears and strands that covered his brows. They did not even try concealing the striking green eyes that looked straight at you. And the familiar scar at the right of his lip put everything together for you — the mugshot that Shoko showed me, the inmate that escaped prison…!

Toji Fushiguro, in the flesh, takes a seat on the chair with his legs spread while putting on black gloves. He notices your look of realization and smirks; you don’t like how his scar is rooted up with the motion. “Y’re a pretty heavy sleeper, ya know that. But I guess that made bringing you here a lil’ simple.”

A tiny bit of confidence prompts you to speak with the man. “Whe–Where am I?”

“C’mon now, little girl,” your stomach churns when he scoffs at you. He brings up a hand to help him as he cracks his neck. God, why is he so jacked!!? “Y’re supposed to be smart, right? You know that’s the wrong question to ask me.”

Okay then, think, Y/n, think… ”…Why did you kidnap me? Is it for money? Because I don’t have much—“ The palm of Toji’s hand faces you to halt you from speaking more, making your nervousness dwell even further.

“For one, you should really consider locking your balcony door when y’re done using it.” There are not enough words to describe the mental facepalm you gave yourself. “If we wanted to run y’r pockets, we woulda done so earlier.” He casually admits to you. “But that’s not why we brought ya here, so he’ll explain it to ya.”

He? Wait, wait, we??

The other mugshot hits you like a flash before you hear the door open and close again. Of course, Toji isn’t the only one on the run right now. There was another guy with salmon-colored hair and tattoos. The other figure, now wearing a black tank tee and ripped black jeans, came from behind Toji. Your stomach drops to the floor when your eyes land on the prominent black tattoo on his nose — now seeing that he has way more on his face, shoulders, arms, and wrists. The scene from the diner replays until your brain can’t keep up. It was him, no doubt about it.

“Well, well. Did the sleeping beauty finally get their rest?” Sukuna Ryōmen, looks just as [if not more] dangerous as Toji. He stuffs his hand into the back of his jeans pocket. “Listen here, I’ll be asking you some questions, and I expect nothing but honest answers. Got that?”

You don’t know what possessed you to ask the question. You being scared shitless right now should’ve prevented you from doing so. And yet, you ask, “And if I don’t?”

It happened way too fast; your eyes couldn’t even process it happening. But one moment, the salmon-haired criminal was standing in front of you beside Toji. The next, you feel someone crouched behind you with the cold feeling of something barely piercing your skin. Your eyes widen, and you don’t dare move a single hair. Toji shakes his head at you, the smirk on his face still present. Now you can guess who had fun cutting up your PJs.

“I don’t think you wanna know the answer to that question.” He says it so close to your ear that you could’ve nearly fainted. Sukuna then moves the knife to scrape the side of your neck. “And don’t you ever think you’re in a position to ask me questions. Use that college brain of yours, brat.”

You gulp — a risky move when you have a sharp object to your neck — and nod. Satisfied, the pink-haired man removes the knife from your proximity and stands right up. “At least you follow things quickly.” He says while walking back to where he stood prior. “Now, question one: do you know a kid named Kento Nanami?”

The mention of your boyfriend’s name hits you like whiplash. Kento? What do they want with him!?

“…Yes, I do.”

“Good. Next question,” You chew the inside of your lip before he asks you the following. “Where does he live?”

Your body almost shuts down when he says the final word. No. No, no, no! Absolutely not! “I can’t tell you that.”

“Tch, just when you were doin’ so good.” Sukuna sucks his teeth. “And why the hell not?”

“Because I don’t want you hurting him.”

He barks a laugh. “You don’t even know what we’ll do to him! Damn, talk about a loyal dog.”

The insult sparked a flame in you. It was a small one, but a flame nonetheless. “Why the hell do you want to know anyway? It’s not like he knows you any—Hrckk!”

“What the hell did I say about you asking questions, huh.” A hurried hand meets your throat, black nails digging into your skin as his grip gets unbearably tight. You attempt to keep a stern face despite choking for some air, but you’d be lying that the pain wasn’t getting to your head.

“Alright, Kuna, let ‘em go.” You almost forgot about Toji sitting on the chair until he spoke up. With a displeased click of the tongue, Sukuna releases you and throws you to the cold, hard floor. “For your information, princess, that kid does know us.”

You’re coughing up a storm, but you still listen. Your eyes are watery, and your throat pulses. “Hic…Ack, what—What are you talking about?”

Toji continues. “That little friend of y’rs is the reason why we were behind bars for three years. Fuckin’ kid saw us break into a house in his neighborhood and called the cops on us. For the longest time, we’ve thought about getting out of those damn cells and coming back to rip that lil’ fucker limb from limb. Maybe ransack his whole home and then some.”

“And now that we are out here,” Sukuna chimes in. “We plan on doing just that. We were sitting right behind you at the diner and heard the brown-haired chick say his name, meaning he had to be around this county. And when he heard that fucking square had a little girlfriend, who better to introduce ourselves and point us the way than you.”

So much information hits you all at once that you’re not given enough time to process it properly. Nanami called the cops on these guys? Where was that piece of information on the phone call!!? Three years ago, it must’ve happened before the start of freshman year. And then there’s the matter of these murders trying to kill him — the love of your life!

You immediately try to weigh your options: you could give them a fake address, but that would lead them back to you and have you killed instead. And Nanami doesn’t live at home right now; he’s on campus with you and everyone else. So, sharing these two his home address will just have his family killed in his place! Oh, you wouldn’t handle that guilt; you just couldn’t!!

“So, what’ll it be, little girl?” Toji’s voice snaps you from your rampant thoughts. “You can be a cute girlfriend and be loyal, and we’ll just kill you right here, right now. Or, you give us an address, we’ll put you back to sleep, and you’ll never see from us ever again.”

Those two options were far from what you wanted to do. You would never want to jeopardize your poor boyfriend’s life and those around him for being a model citizen, especially for these assholes! There had to be a way, something you could do!

“Please, don’t hurt him!” The ropes on your hands and feet have you shuffle to look at the two men from the dirty ground. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Please just spare him!”

“No-can-do, brat.” Sukuna comes down to your level once more, yanking your shirt — or whatever’s left of it, your bra practically out for the whole world to see — to lift your upper body. “Nothing to ease a vengeful spirit than taking care of the problem, right? So do us a favor, will ya.”

Tears are fighting your control to fall, your body trembling. You’re scared, so so frightened. But most of all, you’ll do what you can to make sure your “golden boy” stands tall for you. “Please, I’ll do anything! Anything you want, I’ll do it! So, please!!”

Sukuna opens his mouth to bite back, but no words come out. Actually, his expression resorts back to a neutral tone. He then turns to Toji, who looks at him with a quirked brow. There’s nothing but silence between the two, a silent conversation between the two killers that you have no choice but to stay quiet for. And you jerk when the two focus back on you. Sukuna then finally says something.

“Anything, huh?” It’s the worst when he sneers at you. Such a devious man.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Tch. Fucking brat.” Sukuna sucks his teeth before he snatches your chin with a rough vigor, forcing your teary eyes to face him. And it doesn’t help that you now have a gun pointed at your temple. “This is your warning. You better do this right, or you’ll be the first to get a gift with your boyfriend’s head all minced up. Now, use that mouth. Properly.”

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you’d end up here. You stood on your knees and hands on the concrete floor, your mouth occupied with Sukuna’s cock, propelling your face to and fro to meet the base. Why the handgun to your head? According to the salmon-haired man, he said: “Try to fight, run, or bite our dicks off, then this whole mag is getting emptied.” So, you’re literally giving the fellatio of your life. And judging by the grunts coming from Sukuna, it seems you’re doing a decent job keeping him going.

As for the other one, Toji, his hands grabbing onto your asscheeks from beneath should answer that. “C’mon, baby, sit on my face. I don’t bite…” you can tell he has the biggest grin on his face saying that, has you hesitant to follow orders. Regardless, you gently sway your ass down to sit on his face. But impatience gets the best of him before he pulls you down himself, his nose abruptly hitting your clitoris. You jolt despite his hands keeping you on him, forced to feel his tongue and mouth indulging on your wet folds.

So there you sit, bare and nude, for the men to use you as they see fit. Whatever piece of your clothes were torn off you to be fully exposed for them. This is what you choose to do for the sake of your boyfriend: giving yourself off for the night.

Oh, if Shoko could see you now. Sucking off one of the exact murderers you two were talking about at the diner while the other eats you out? You know you’ll never hear the end of it from her if — by some miracle — she finds out! And you’ll hold onto that miracle for as long as you can.

“…Fuuuck, hnngh! It’s been a minute since I had my dick on something tight,” Sukuna comments while putting his free hand on your head. His thrusts increase to have your tongue bathe the underside of his dick, and he sighs at you choking when the tip suddenly hits your uvula. “Heh, that’s right. Keep those tears coming, pet…You seem to be enjoying yourself there, Fushiguro. This broad taste that fucking good—Ohhh shit, fucking shit…”

You can feel Toji’s lips curve into a smile from down under, he gives your labia and clit a slow and antagonizing lick before responding to his partner in crime. “Mmmm, man. It’s been a while since I had to do this. Crazy how this princess got with a square like that kid. Wonder if he makes ‘em feel good like this.” And then he returns to your clit to give it a harsh suck.

Your body continues to be used like a toy. Your jaw loosens to oblige Sukuna’s girth that’s currently hitting the back of your throat every time your lips meet the pubes of his pelvis. His ruts dial-up, and you ball your fists with the constant oral abuse on your face. Drool runs down your chin with every shove of his length, practically choking you with his dick. And the commotion between your leaking vulva and Toji doesn’t go unnoticed either; motherfuker’s tongue is relentless, making sure every crevice and part of your pussy is familiar with him. And the sounds of him slurping your essence are so lewd, so erotic for your ears that you think they’re bound to explode on you.

“—Ahhh, damn, I’m gonna cum,” Oh, God. Your eyes open to look at Sukuna’s expression, nothing but pure enjoyment looking at your pitiful look. “You’re cute looking all pathetic taking my cock like this, whore—Mmmph!! Shiiiit, keep your head like that.” He grabs your head as his thrusts speed up to an irregular pace, your throat and face becoming numb. Your whimpers are muffled, and tears streak down your cheeks. His groans of pleasure fill the room, and before you know it, his load is released down to the depths of your throat. You’re stuck taking it, mewling on the shaft still in your mouth until he’s finished.

He removes you when he is, his cock slathered in your saliva and still rock hard. You gawk at it, amazed that you could fit it in your mouth. And you hate to admit this, but it has you wondering what Toji’s is like.

Speaking of, with a foggy mind, you peer down to see Toji finally done eating your cunt out. “Ya taste good, you know that.” He licks his lips provocately with a smile. You open your mouth to say something, but he cuts you off. “You ready fr’ me now?” He cocks his chin up, and you turn to see what he’s talking about, only to be met with the pinkish-red tip of his sprung erect cock. If you didn’t think you’d be able to have Sukuna’s in your mouth, you’re going to need a diety’s grace to see what you can do with Toji’s. “Heh, think I’m too big fr’ you? How the hell is Kento handling a piece like you?”

“S–Shut up, stop bringing him up!” You shout at him, tired of being reminded of the love of your life whom you’re betraying right now. All for his sake, but still…

He chuckles at your reaction. “Little girl got spark, huh. Fine then, be a doll and put it in yourself.”

Cold sweat slides from your brow. Me? I’ve gotta put that shit in on my own!? But you have to. You know you do. So, with anxiousness pooling in your stomach, you bring your ass up and use your hand to align his cock to your wet cunt.

It takes a lot of mental motivation for you to continue, but slowly and surely, you push the folds of your cunt onto his glans. The pain you experience makes it excruciating to bear, but with steady breaths, you push the tip in with every exhale. And when it finally enters your vulva, a gasp erupts from your puffy lips and a hiss from the man with the scarred lip. “Mmmm, slow down, baby, slow it down…” That was probably the only words he’s ever said that you could trust, so you anchor your ass down, taking in every inch of his length with his hands guiding your ass down. When you reach the base, you give yourself a few seconds to adjust to his girth within your velvety walls. “Fuck, ya feel so nice and tight, princess.”

“Is that so?” Sukuna walks from behind. “Can’t wait for me to have a go.” You couldn’t even comprehend the meaning of that sentence because the salmon-haired one kicked your back. You are now mounted on Toji completely, the two of you facing each other while Sukuna crouches behind your ass. “Get ready, I’m putting it in.”

“Huh?” Wait, both at the same time!? “Ho–Hold on, I’ve never done it in my ass bef—“

“Doesn’t sound like a problem to me; guess I’ll be the first then,” he shuts down your argument and then bends down to use his fingers and spit to ease your asshole. It feels so gross and repulsive that you could puke right now. Not that it would matter to Sukuna because he’s already set on doing it — his fore and middle finger pushing in and out of your anus. When he feels you’ve loosened up, he’ll remove his digits and substitute them with his cock.

And he doesn’t warn you either, fucking bastard; he nudges his dick in his own countdown with no regard to how you’re feeling. Gripping onto the raven-haired man’s black shirt, Sukuna’s cock puts you through pain worth traumatizing, evoking screams that scratch your throat until he gets the whole thing in your ass. Nanami would never put you through this much pain. Never!

“Aww, y’re making the pretty girl cry,” Toji teases condescendingly, chuckling at the sight of you burying your head in his chest to shield the embarrassment.

Sukuna hums while grinding his hips to your ass, a tiny bit of blood painting his shaft. “Hmph, good, makes my enjoyment worthwhile. Now,” you shriek with the sudden snap of his hips to your ass. “Let’s get this show started.”

When Sukuna moves, Toji follows right after, and you’re left to fend for yourself in this unsteady tempo from both your holes. You start seeing stars from the unusual stimulation, and your mind and vision become so blurry that it hurts to think. Hell, it hurts to try and concentrate on one dick at a time! One is currently scraping the wells of your walls in a way that your slit clenches around him, while the other churns your insides from the back that almost takes your breath away. More drool and tears seep into the black shirt you use to disguise yourself from them. This shit is already humiliating as is!

“C’mon now, baby. Show me that pretty face of y’rs.” Of course, Toji uses one hand to nudge your head to look at him. Your face is such a wet and hot mess, the sweat on your body making you sticky. The attempt to make sentences is beyond you, relying on moans and choked sobs to express your disorganized emotions. “There ya are. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Toji then takes your plump lips with his, his hand snaking to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. It was one thing letting them use your cunt and ass as they see fit; now, they dare to kiss you in a time like this. Oh, this is the absolute worst! How can you speak to Nanami ever again after this!? These lips are now sullied by the lips and cock of other men. You can’t ever go back and say that you were his, and it’s because of these assholes!!

…And what’s worse, you were starting to find enjoyment in what you were doing, sinking into Toji’s kiss and moaning into his scarred lips.

“Haahh…Mmmph…Damn, this slut is so fucking tight.” Sukuna watches your back glisten in the light while your ass quaked under his unstable momentum. He sneers before slapping your asscheek, resulting in a rushed moan and a twitch from your pussy. Toji breaks the kiss. “Hey, keep doing that. Think they like it.”

With devilish glee, the tattooed other doesn’t hold back. He gives you another smack to the ass, and more loud purrs and shrieks fill the space between you three. Fast ruts to your soaping slit and ass coincide with the strikes to your butt, catching you off guard and leaving a stinging sensation every time.

It’s apparent now that your hips start to move on their own, riding out your own high while preparing for your orgasm that’s climbing up. And the raven-haired man notices as he puts your hand on your aching buttcheeks. “Goin somewhere, dollface?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, let me come already!! “—Ahhnn, ooohhhh!! I’m about to cummm—I’m gonna break—Eeyahhh!!!

“That so?” You want to wipe that smirk off his stupid, dumb, handsome face. “Then go ahead and get dirty, princess. Ring us up.”

Your arousal staggers up when both of their thrusts fall into a unity, the tender spots of your gummy walls from your ass and cunt being hit and abused prompt more ecstatic moans and your head pounding with every jab. Almost there, almost! Please, please, I want it!! And you are finally given what you want; your release crashes into you in a hard swoop, the shocks crawling up your body while your holes contract around both men’s cocks. Your brain falls into an erotic trance; you only care about the euphoric sensations tingling around your body. Dizziness overtakes you, and your head descends back on Toji’s chest.

“Hmph, you really a pathetic pet.” Sukuna grinds his pelvis into your sensitive ass. The aftershocks from your release still make your body react to their movements. “Chasing for your own orgasm, huh. We outta fuck that selfishness right out of you, damn brat…”

You don’t say anything — more like you don’t have the energy to. Your ass and chasm are too stuffed to keep your mind active, and your eyelids feel too heavy to keep up. It probably was from all that crying and screaming. All you want to do is go back to sleep in your bed at your cozy apartment. But that must be asking for too much. Just please end this nightmare…

Kenty…Please forgive me, I’m so sorry….

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You can’t remember how sleep found you that night. But your eyes open to the ray of sunshine that peaks through the binds of your bedroom. Wait, my bedroom!?

You shoot up from your bed, the soft comforter and sheets peeling off your skin, and the cool air from the air conditioning welcomes you back to your personal space. Everything untouched, everything where it’s supposed to be — where you’re supposed to be.

A deep breath is the first thing you do when you wake up, following a long exhale. Was I dreaming? You would’ve accepted that delusion had you not looked down to realize that your figure was covered with one of your oversized shirts, remembering that your old pajamas were cut and torn up. Flashes of last night return to haunt you, and shivers travel down your spine from realizing what transpired at those ungodly hours. You quickly check your sheets for any stains — Thank God, none. Funny how a pair of serial killing assholes have the decency to clean up your body.

And then a sudden feeling of dread crawls up after hearing your phone vibrating on your nightstand. You hurry to check the screen to find out it was a text message from Nanami. It’s a Saturday, 9 a.m. He’d usually be sleeping in until noon. Curious, you unlock your phone to check what your boyfriend is texting you about.

Recent Message from: ♡ my bby nanamiii ♡

Hey, Y/n. Hope you slept well and everything’s okay. I’m coming from Geto’s place after picking up Haibara, who is going through the worst hangover right now. He said he wants to see you and that you make the best meals for his hangovers. I don’t want to intrude if you’re not up for guests, so please tell me so I can take him somewhere else. But otherwise, we’ll be there at around 30-45 mins. Let’s just relax this weekend, okay?

Reading the text as you fall in love with him all over again. After what you’ve gone through, knowing that he’s safe and sound from any trouble, all you want right now is to be around him and hold him close. To be with him and forget about everything that’s happened.

You send a heartwarming reply saying you’ll be waiting for the two of them. Then, you remove yourself from the bed and stretch out your fatigued muscles. Ugh, I should probably shower before Nananmi gets here…

However, before you lift your shirt and head for the bathroom, you notice a glass of water and a bag full of pills. Huh…I definitely didn’t have that there when I went to sleep before I was taken. And next to the glass was a folded piece of paper. Curiosity got the best of you this morning as you picked up the material to read its contents.

And this is where you knew your life was changing, for better or worse. Your legs give out, making you fall to your knees with a shaky breath, the hairs of your body standing, and your heart on the verge of leaping out of your mouth. What you read crushed your whole being, leaving you cold in this world — worse than the autumn breeze.

Yo, thanks for the great time last night. Keep that up, and your pretty boytoy will keep standing. Here’s water and birth control, and keep that bag safe. Wouldn’t wanna end up losing it for the next time we fuck you dumb. See ya later, pet.

SR + TF

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

11K notes · View notes

atomicami · 7 months

Text

quick fix

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: in which joel and jerry have a constant rivalry with their contracting businesses. as a result, you’ve had to abide by your dad’s rule to stay away from jerry’s daughter, abby. you follow along at first, but when your TV stops working on the day you’re hosting a movie night, you might have to break that rule.

- content: smut MDNI, porn with plot, no outbreak/modern au, texas living, no sarah, joel & jerry are both alive (he’s not a doctor in this), contractor/engineer!abby (women in stem 🔛🔝), reader has a business degree, family and work drama, oral & fingering (r!receiving), squirting, kinda softdom!abby, reader and abby almost getting caught, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

- author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do an abby fic with this specific pairing for a while now so i hope y’all like it! if this one goes well i might make a second part to it.

Your father was never the competitive type when it came to his job. Joel’s been known to be a humble person while still taking pride in his hard work. In all fairness, he did spend so many years of his life forming one of the biggest contracting companies in Texas alongside with his brother, and ever since you were a kid, you’ve wanted to take part in it as well. Business was running perfectly for your dad, he felt like everything was going according to plan every single day.

That is…until about four years ago, when a contractor from Washington moves into your neighborhood with his daughter with the intention of expanding his company to a second state. Joel didn’t think of anything at first when this happened. Texas is known to be one of the best states for business, he completely understood the other man’s intentions to come reside over here.

However, things started to go downhill a couple of weeks after the father-daughter pair moved in. You were at work with your dad doing customer calls for him. Things were going good so far until the phone began to ring from your end. You reach over to your desk and pick up the phone, holding it up to your ear.

“Miller Contracting, how can I help you?” You greeted into the phone. “You’d like to speak with Joel?“ Your dad was in the same room as you, working on some blueprints, lifting his head up towards your direction once he had heard his name. You had done the same, motioning for him to come over. “Yeah…Yeah I can put him on with you.” He was now by your side by the time you finished that sentence, taking the phone from your hands and answering it. “Miller Contracting, this is Joel.” he addressed into the phone, turning around so he’s slightly leaning back onto the edge of the desk.

“Mr. Jones! I was just workin’ on the blueprints for the project you wanted—wait, what?”

You remained seated at your desk next to your dad as the conversation kept going, seeing his expression change completely over what the client was telling him. You were even able to hear what the client had said through the receiver of the phone:

“I’m sorry Joel, but we’ve decided to go with Anderson Contracting to work on the project for us…We’ve heard so many good things about Jerry’s work in Seattle, and we really want what’s best for—“

Your dad didn’t even let the man finish his sentence as he immediately hung up the phone. You could tell that he was already fuming after finding out what had just happened. He was totally fine with Jerry settling here with his company, as long as he’d find his own fucking clients to work with instead of stealing his. Joel knew at that moment that in order to prevent himself from losing any more clients, he needed to take action. Ever since that day, he’s had a four year long rivalry with the other contractor, both of them making the attempts to see who can not only get the most clients, but also the best ones to work with.

Fast forward to today, and you’ve graduated from college this year with a degree in business administration, now dedicating yourself full time in helping out with your father’s contracting company. And as you’d expect, Jerry Anderson, the man your dad refers to as his competition remains living across the street from you with his daughter Abigail, who also stuck with the same plan as you after graduating college in terms of helping out her dad with his company as well. But given the bad blood that your dads have with each other, you two had to abide by their rule to not be anywhere near each other.

“Listen to me sweetheart, you stay away from Anderson’s kid, alright? Her daddy can take away as many clients as he wants, but I sure as hell ain’t letting his daughter take you away from me.”

“Abby, I don’t care who you end up with, as long as it’s not with Joel Miller’s daughter. Can you promise me that?”

And so you both did. For four years and counting, you and Abby have made the efforts to stay as far away from each other despite how difficult it may have been for you both.

However, you might have to be the one to break that streak when your living room TV stops working.

“So you’re sayin’ that it just won’t turn on?” Your dad asked you through the phone.

“Yeah…I don’t know what’s wrong with it.” You replied, pressing the on button of the TV remote again. You could see the little red light flashing on the remote, but the TV still wouldn’t budge.

“Did ya try flippin’ the breaker outside?”

“No…everything else in the house is working except the TV…I think something’s just wrong with the outlet that’s it’s plugged into. Do you think you can try to come by for a moment and fix it?”

You heard your dad let out a sigh through the phone. You already knew what he was going to say next.

“M’sorry sweetie, but I’ve been so caught up at work today…been trying to perfect a project for this client lately. N’ I don’t want Anderson to try n’ steal this one from me. I’ll try n’ see if I can stop by real quick durin’ my break, alright?”

“Yeah, I get it…I’ll just…try and wait til you get home. Love you dad.”

You sighed as you hung up the phone, completely helpless. It could’ve been any other day where the TV stops working and you wouldn’t really care about it. But today you were hosting a movie night with your girlfriends. You took the day off from work ahead of time to prepare and had already spent the past hour making a large charcuterie board that was currently taking up space in the fridge. You had been planning this movie night for weeks with your friend group only for it to possibly get canceled.

All because the stupid TV wasn’t working.

You looked back down at your phone, opening the group chat with your friend group to break the news to them. As your fingers hovered over the keyboard, an idea came upon your midst. You turned around to look through the window, eyeing the cream colored house that stood across from yours.

Now, at this very moment you have two options:

You could tell your friends that movie night will be postponed, and wait for your dad to come back from work to fix the TV outlet.

Or…

You could make the attempt to cross the street and ask Abigail Anderson, the girl you’ve been keeping yourself away from for over four years per your dad’s request, to come by and fix the outlet for you.

For some reason, part of you was leaning towards the second option. Except you really didn’t want to break your dad’s promise.

But then again…Abby does have a lot of experience with the actual hands on work in contracting. After all, she did graduate at the top of the class just like you, except with a degree in civil engineering instead. Not to mention she has her contractor’s license just like her dad and yours. Fixing an electrical outlet should be a piece of cake for her.

You hesitate for a moment, pacing around your living room as you try and gather the courage to leave the house and cross the street. This task shouldn’t take long…it’s just a quick fix, right?

Walking over to the front door, you take a deep breath and step outside, making sure to lock your door in case anything happens before crossing the street. Once you approach the driveway of her house, you see the two Ford pickup trucks parked outside. This meant that both Abby and her father were home right now.

You make it to the front door of Abby’s house, and hesitate once again before ringing the bell. You pray silently to yourself that it’ll be her answering the door, and not her dad. Once the door opens, you look up to your prayers being answered as she stands right in front of you, her eyes widening in shock once she sees you.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” she exclaims, trying to keep her own voice down to not get her father’s attention.

“Look, I know we’re supposed to be away from each other, But I really need your help.” You let out a sigh before continuing your explanation. “The outlet in my TV isn’t working, and I need it to be ready for a movie night that I’m hosting this evening… but my dad’s been too busy at work to stop by and fix it…could you please fix it for me?”

Abby shook her head in response. “I’m not even supposed to be talking to you right now, let alone be inside your house. Can’t you just call an electrician or something?”

Damn, why didn’t you think of that as an option? Could it be because you wanted Abby to be the one fixing the outlet for you instead of some random guy? Probably….

You shook your head, trying to come up with an excuse on the spot. “These electricians take forever to arrive, and my friends will be here any minute now. Please…? It should just be a quick fix….”

Abby opened her mouth to say something before she was interrupted by the sound of her father calling her from inside.

“Abby! Who’s at the door?”

“Shit…” she muttered, quickly looking over her shoulder before back at you. “Okay, I’ll do it…just stay there for a moment.” She briefly closed the door before soon returning after a couple minutes, now with her tool belt wrapped around her cargo pants. “I had to tell him it was Manny…you know that my dad doesn’t want me to be seen with you.” she said in a slightly stern tone as both of you began to cross the street to your house. Once the two of you arrive at your place, you look both ways, making sure no one else was seeing you two together before unlocking the door and stepping inside, Abby soon following after and closing the door behind her.

“The outlet’s over here…” You walk over to where the TV was, and push the display table away from the wall, revealing the hidden outlet that needed fixing. Abby stepped past you to get to the broken outlet and got down on one knee, already getting to work as she began to unscrew the plate. “This shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.” You nod in response, heading over to the kitchen to set the table for when your friends arrive.

Those ten minutes fly by like thirty seconds, and you can already hear the sound of the TV playing from the kitchen. You enter the living room to see Abby flipping through the channels on the TV, making sure that everything’s working perfectly before handing you the remote.

“Thank you so much, Abby…” You turn the TV off and set the remote on the display table next to you before looking back at her. “I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem…” There’s now a brief moment of silence between you two. You notice her looking out the window and eyeing at her house. “I should uh, get going now…” She tells you this, but she doesn’t move. For some reason…Abby didn’t want to leave just yet. And you didn’t want her to either.

Noticing this, you start to feel a sense of boldness spike through and take a step towards her direction. “Do you think that…you could stay just a little longer?” Abby then turns her head and looks down to face you, noticing that you were just inches away from her now. The two of you realize that this is the longest amount of time you’ve spent together, and this is the closest you two are to each other right now. Who knows when this could happen again…Might as well take advantage of the time, right?

Abby doesn’t even respond to your question. Instead she takes the risk and leans into you, enclosing your lips with hers into a kiss. You can’t help but kiss her back and grab at the collar of her open muscle tank, pulling her closer to you. By instinct, Abby brings her hands down to the back of your thighs and signals you to jump. Once you do, she gets a grip on each of your legs as you wrap them around her waist. Abby brings you over to the couch and slowly sets you down before parting her lips away from yours and bringing her head down to kiss at your neck, causing you to whimper at her touch.

“Look at you…I’m barely even touching you and you’re already so desperate for me…” she murmurs in between kisses. “I wonder what your dad would think…knowing that his precious daughter is with me right now…”

Abby was right about that. What would your dad think of you right now? You promised him that you’d stay away from the daughter of the man that was competing with him and his business. And now she’s in your house, in your living room, planting kisses all over your body and marking you as hers.

All because you couldn’t wait for the TV to get fixed.

But was it really because you couldn’t wait for the TV to get fixed? Or because you couldn’t wait for Abby to fix the arousal that was starting to form in between your legs?

You snap yourself out of your thoughts once you feel Abby’s hands trailing down your body and stopping once they reach the hem of your shirt. She grabs onto it and pulls herself away to take it off of you, tossing it to the side once it’s off of your head. You reach over and do the same with her open muscle tank and remove it off of her before she goes back in to kiss at your exposed chest. But then…she stops. Why was she stopping?

You give her a confused expression as she pulls away to look at you, her blue eyes piercing through yours. “Listen…I’d be lying right now if I said I didn’t want to be doing this. I’ve been wanting you ever since I first saw you from across the street.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “But I need you to tell me, right now…Tell me you want this, and if you don’t, I promise I’ll leave and won’t come near you again.”

You were shocked over what Abby had just admitted to you. But then again, you understood why she would tell you this. This is by far the closest and most intimate you’ve ever been with her, and she didn’t want to go overboard or past your boundaries. She needed the green light. She was seeking the reassurance from you. She wanted to know if you were okay with this, because you both were about to break the rules, and there’s no turning back once it’s done.

But little did she know that you’ve been wanting the same thing. You’ve been wanting Abby in the same way she’s been wanting you. Hell, you’ve even touched yourself at night before with her on your mind. But she doesn’t need to know that. Instead, you just shake your head and grab onto her broad shoulders, pulling her in towards you for another kiss. “I want this, Abby, please…you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen.”

And before you know it, she’s stripped you from the rest of your clothes until you were just in your underwear. Abby was completely taken aback by the sight of you right now. “God…you’re so beautiful…” She mutters out as she begins to kneel down in front of you. “It should be a crime to keep this away from me.”

All you could do at this point was whine in response. The ache that was growing in between your legs was making it so difficult for you to even comprehend what Abby was saying to you right now. You desperately needed her to alleviate that feeling.

“Abby…p-please…need you so bad…”

You heard the blonde let out a chuckle in response. “I know baby, I know…Let’s see what I’m working with, yeah?” She then reaches up to your waist and grabs at the band of your underwear removing it off of you in one pull before spreading your legs open, revealing your pussy to her. The view that was in front of her right now was a sight for sore eyes. You were completely soaked for her, she could easily see the wetness gushing out of your pussy and trailing itself down to the leather of the couch. You tried to hold back a moan as you felt Abby’s fingers gently press against your folds and slowly spread them open to get a better look.

“Fuck, you’re so wet…is this really all for me?” She asks in surprise, looking up at you. You nodded in response. “It’s all for you Abs, please….need you to fix this…”

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll fix it for you.” she murmurs in response as she begins to scatter more kisses on your inner thighs, slowly inching her face closer to your heat. “I’ll make it all better for you, yeah?” And with that she begins to insert one of her fingers into your tight pussy, causing another whimper to escape from your mouth. You were so wet for her that she was easily able to slide her finger into you without struggling. It didn’t take long for her to slide a second finger in. “Atta girl…you’re taking my fingers so well…I wish I could’ve fixed this a lot sooner.” Abby then leans in and wraps her lips around your throbbing clit, not stopping the movements of her fingers.

You grab onto the armrest once you feel the sensation of her mouth on your clit. Her fingers were curling themselves into your cunt so hard that it’s practically causing friction in your g spot. Feeling heavy in your head, you slowly bring it down to see the sight of her beneath you. You spread your legs out a little more to give Abby some room, with your right leg hooking itself over the armrest of the couch. She’s been so fixated on eating out your cunt that the movement slightly startles her a bit. With her mouth still sucking onto your clit she looks up at you once again and you could’ve sworn that her fucking pupils just dilated. Abby was getting completely drunk on your pussy, and you were getting drunk from the overstimulation she was giving you.

You feel Abby’s mouth briefly remove itself from your clit, quickly replacing it with her thumb to keep you stimulated. She then brought herself up to tend to one of your tits, gently kissing and biting onto it as she continued to finger your cunt senselessly. It came to the point where the all of contact that Abby was giving you right now was slowly starting to consume you. Your pussy began to clench and contract around Abby’s thick fingers, indicating that you were starting to get close. She immediately noticed and took her mouth off of your breast, and went back down to your needy cunt to finish you off.

“Abby…” you moan out to her, your voice getting tense. “I-I’m getting close.”

“I know you are, angel. I’m gonna help you get there, yeah?” She tells you reassuringly as she presses her free hand onto your lower stomach. “Just ride my fingers out for me, baby, just like that.”

Abby then brings her mouth back to your swollen clit as she speeds the pace of her fingers. You follow her instructions and grind your hips against them, desperately trying to approach your climax.

However, you start to get an unusual feeling deep in the pit of your stomach as you began to get closer. The pressure was more intense than what you’re used to, for some reason it didn’t feel right. You felt like your body was on fire.

This led you to tell Abby to stop right at the last minute. “W-Wait, Abby, stop I— Fuck!”

But it was too late. Your body already did its deed before the words could get through your mouth. Your cunt pulsed hard against her fingers before going completely overboard on its climax. You throw your head back in pleasure and shut your eyes, whines and whimpers escaping your mouth as you cum all over Abby’s mouth and fingers. Her fingers soon start slowing it’s pace right after. She then removes her mouth and fingers from your pussy, gently stroking your trembling thighs as you slowly recover from your climax.

“Fuck, Abby…that was—“ You slowly tilt your head back down and open your eyes, only to be shocked by the sight of the blonde in front of you, completely drenched in your release. “Oh my God…Did I just…”

She nodded in response, wiping the bottom of her chin with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I think you did…”

You start to feel your face heat up in embarrassment and completely avert your gaze from her. “I’m so sorry Abs…I-I didn’t even know I could do that…” She only shook her head in response. leaning in to give you a another kiss, which allowed you to taste a bit of yourself on her lips. “Don’t you dare apologize. You did so good for me.” Abby then brought her gaze down to your cunt, still twitching after it’s intense orgasm. She gently ran two fingers down to pick up the rest of your release before bringing them to her mouth, sucking them clean. “This was definitely worth the wait.”

You let out a giggle in response before leaning in to give her another kiss. “You were definitely worth the wait for me.”

Abby smiled back at you, before noticing something at the corner of her eye. She looked out through the window, her eyes widening in shock at what came across her vision.

“Oh shit…Isn’t that Joel’s truck?”

You quickly turned your head around to see your dad’s truck passing through the roundabout of the neighborhood. It looks like he was able to stop by from work after all. “Oh my God, I completely forgot I told him about the outlet.” You look over to Abby and began to pick up your discarded clothes from the ground. “You need to go, now before my dad sees you.”

The two of you scramble around the living room for each other’s clothes, quickly dressing yourselves again. You then sprint over to the kitchen to get a rag before coming back to the living room to wipe what was left of your release off of the couch. Once you do, you look up to see your dad’s truck now parked in the driveway. Thank God he was still sitting there and on his phone, probably talking a client out of doing business with Abby’s dad. You then look over to her, now fully dressed. “Come with me, I’ll take you out through the back.” You grab her hand and bring her outside to the backyard, opening the back fence for her. “Just go out through the left and cross the street, that way it won’t look suspicious.” She nodded in response, quickly turning back to briefly kiss you on the lips before heading out. This gave you the feeling that it wasn’t going to be the last time that this would happen.

But for now you felt a wave of relief wash through you. As Abby began to head back home you closed the fence and went back inside, only to hear the sound of the front door opening and your dad’s footsteps entering the house.

“Hey kiddo, m’home!” You heard him call out. “Was able to stop by real quick from work to check on the TV. Is it still not workin’?”

Well, Abby might be out of your hands, but now you’ve encountered a new dilemma: trying to explain to your dad how the TV got fixed.

author’s note: i pray that this doesn’t flop 🙏🏻

part 2 here

requested tags 🏷️: @aouiaa @whorn3y @pretty-prrincess-13 @elliewilliamskissr

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us x reader #tlou2 #wlw #the last of us part 2 #abby tlou #abby x you #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby anderson smut #contractor!abby #abby the last of us 2 #abby x reader smut #abby anderson x you

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thef1diary · 1 month

Text

Little Big Fan | Fourteen

— Little Big Champion

Series Masterlist

wc: 1.9k

Note: we're gonna pretend that Max won the championship in the race, and the sprint race didn't exist for the purpose of the plot.

"Holy shit," you murmur as the car rolls to a stop right beside Max's private jet. "Shit," your daughter repeats which earns a laugh from Max.

You shake your head and tell her, "don't say that." Luckily, she'd been so focused on the plane that she'd forgotten to wonder why. Other times, even after being given a response, she would persistently demand for the explanation, usually with "why, mama?" multiple times.

You turned your head to look at Max, who was already smiling due to your reaction. "You do know that you're about to ruin every other plane experience for me now, right?" You ask with a little chuckle and Max, being Max, nods. "Yeah, and you do know that we'll be flying private for most of the races," he said, adding, "or vacations."

"Is this your plane, Maxy?" Isabella asked, slightly leaning over your lap to look out the window as it gave her a better view of the aircraft. "It's ours, princess."

Your attention remained fixed on Isabella's expression as she took in all of the details inside the plane. Max was used to the luxurious life after travelling to so many nations in this plane. To you and Isabella, however, it was a whole new experience, and you couldn't help but feel both delighted and comforted that this would eventually become your new normal. Max hasn't hesitated to spoil you or Isabella thus far, and he has no intentions to stop, especially now that he's become addicted to the joy he feels when he does something for you or Isabella.

Once you were settled in, you were welcomed with a glass of champagne for you and Max, and apple juice for Isabella—served in a champagne flute to prevent her from feeling excluded.

This time, it was a much smoother experience for your daughter, especially during takeoff which she was very nervous about based on the last time she had flown.

Isabella was out like a light once the jet was in the air, and she was able to sleep peacefully because flying private had far fewer people than flying commercial. You and Max had moved to the opposite end of the plane to chat freely, but you could still keep an eye on Isabella in case she awoke.

The flight consisted of only Max, Isabella, and you, with a few crew members present. When you saw the lack of his team, you asked about it. "I might've told them to fly commercial," he said with a shrug.

"And they're going to hate me before I even meet them properly," you responded. While you had met a few people that were a part of his team, Max would be reintroducing you as his girlfriend.

He shook his head, "no they won't. I had to make sure that your first private flight experience was the best of the best, and that wouldn't be possible with them around."

—

You were in a completely new country, new paddock and new track but it still felt familiar since you had Max by your side. A few other drivers had come up to you and your daughter, having recognized you from the last time you were Max's guest at a race.

"I know RedBull is your favourite team, but what about McLaren?" Lando asked Isabella, who pressed a finger against her cheek to pretend to think for a moment. "I like RedBull, Ferrari, and then McLaren," she counted on her fingers.

Lando's jaw dropped, placing a hand to his chest in mock hurt, "third?" Isabella giggled, "out of ten, Lando."

"But still, what will it take for McLaren to be first?" Max interjected before she could respond to Lando's question. "Stop bothering my Bella, you're not her favourite." He was pleased to be her favourite, both on and off the track. Perhaps second to you off track because you were her mother, but he'd still consider it a win.

Lando approached the three of you a few minutes earlier, immediately sparking up a conversation with Isabella after hearing all the good things about her through Max. Lando was one of the very few people Max had told about you during the short break between races. It was strange to see Lando clad in the opposing team colours near the rival team's garage, but he had to know the two people who owned Max's heart—which were exactly the words Max had told him, albeit Lando found those words a tad too sappy.

Ignoring Max's comment even though he looked up to acknowledge him, he asked Isabella another question. "What about your favourite driver, and don't say Max."

Max looked at you with an expression that said, "are you going to let this happen?" You laughed, looking at the Brit and commenting, "I don't think you'll be happy with the answer, Lando."

"Maxy is my favourite but Charlie too," Isabella stated right after your words earning a gasp from Max and Lando. "Charles?" Max asked, surprised as well.

Max never really thought about it and certainly didn't think Charles would be her second favourite driver. He was aware that Isabella would undoubtedly have other favourites than him but just not as good as him.

"Yes, Charlie," Isabella confirmed, and at the same time the driver walked past them, stopping once he heard his name.

"Ah, hello Bella," he held his hand up for a high-five. He playfully removed the cap she already had on—which was the one Max gifted—to replace it with the one he had on his head; Ferrari.

Max leaned closer to you and whispered, "there are too many non-redbull drivers here." Hiding your laugh behind your hand, you responded, "you can't tell them to leave though, we're not in the garage." He raised his eyebrow, "why not?"

"Just look at Bella," you said, nudging your head towards the scene in front of you two. Her eyes lit up as she giggled at the two drivers who spoke to her. Lando placed his McLaren cap on her head, on top of Charles' cap already on her head in an attempt to outshine the Ferrari driver.

That earned a smile from Max, "I'm glad she's comfortable here, not many kids are." You nodded, "well she will be growing up around the tracks, either to watch you or if she decides to be like you."

Max's head snapped in your direction, "what do you mean be like me? She wants to race?" Around you, he was always expressive, so you could see the glint of hope that was beginning to form in his eyes. Again, you nodded, "she might've mentioned it once or twice but if you can't tell I barely know anything about the sport and even less about karting."

"I can help, please let me take her karting," Max immediately requested, because the prospect of Isabella starting karting, especially under his coaching and guidance, was nothing short of a dream.

"I think she would love that, but let me tell you now that it's already scary enough seeing you race so I'm not sure how I would handle it if Isabella has even a fraction of your talent," you stated firmly, earning a sharp nod in understanding from him.

Max grinned as he observed your daughter incorporating Charles and Lando into her imaginary activities. This time, the two professional drivers were passengers while she was playing the role of a race car driver.

"Oi, lovebirds, join us," Lando made a disgusted expression as he witnessed you and Max cuddled together, but he secretly enjoyed seeing the two of you together—not that he would ever tell Max.

Dropping the conversation for now, you and Max joined in on the little game until the drivers were needed by their various team members.

—

He did it; Max won the race and the world championship title yet again, for the third time in a row. As a result of his competitiveness and success as a driver, the title had already been determined with five races remaining in the season.

Behind the row of team members—mainly from RedBull and McLaren—you stood among them in parc fermé with a tight grasp on your daughter's hand waiting for Max to park the car in the spot reserved for the race winner.

Cheers and claps could be heard loudly as he stood on top of the car for a moment, throwing his hands up in celebration. With his helmet still on, he rushed towards the team standing behind the barricades, earning praises and applauses from each person he neared.

Amongst the crowd, he spotted you, and while you couldn't see his full face, you knew from the way his eyes crinkled around the corners that he adorned a wide smile on his face.

Max stood right in front of you, but yet it was still too far as a few people were blocking his view of you. Gesturing with his hands, he asked for you to be brought closer and you obliged as soon as you were given space.

He removed his helmet and balaclava which allowed you to see his beautiful face, still adorning a smile on his face but only fondness in his eyes remained as he continued looking at you.

Shoving the balaclava inside the helmet, he held it in one hand to the side while grasping the back of your head with the other. The noises around you seemed to fade away as soon as his lips touched yours, leaving you with only the immense hammering of your heart.

Parting away, you rested your forehead against his for a moment. “Congratulations, baby,” you spoke, loud enough to be heard amongst the crowd that you couldn’t care less about in this moment.

The audience begins to disperse, gathering around the podium for the upcoming celebrations. Max receives a pat on the back, indicating that it is time to go to the cooldown room, but his gaze never shifts away from you.

He knew he couldn't leave without placing another kiss on your lips, so he gave in to his desires by closing his eyes, silencing the world around him once more to focus on the delicate sensation of your lips pressing against his.

Max truly felt like a champion, because not only did he win the world driver's championship of this season but he also had you right by his side to experience the thrill of winning it all. He may have won two other championships in the previous years, but this one felt completely different; much better.

Inevitably, he's pulled away from you by someone from his team. "Go get that trophy, champion," you state, wanting to see him hold the race winning trophy now, and even the championship trophy during the gala.

Right before turning around, he focused on your daughter, messing with Isabella's hair again until she slapped his hands away. She still had a really big smile on her face, having seen Max win the race and the championship at the same time.

You still held Isabella's hand as you began the short walk towards the podium, but she squeezed it tighter to grab your attention. Your smile plummeted and dread instantly filled your heart as you heard your daughter's words, "mama look, it's daddy," she pointed at him with her free hand.

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#little big fan fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #fluff #thef1diary fic

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 3 months

Text

SFX Magazine Issue 368, August 2023

THEY’RE BACK – AND THIS TIME THEY’RE IN ALL-NEW TERRITORY. NEIL GAIMAN TALKS RETURNING FOR SEASON TWO OF GOOD OMENS

THE RASCALLY DEMON Crowley (David Tennant) and the neurotic angel Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) put aside their differences to pull off one doozy of a Hail Mary and prevent an impending Apocalypse in Good Omens’ first season. The task cemented the pair’s unconventional friendship. So what are divine beings, who have fallen out of grace with both Heaven and Hell, to do for an encore?

The answer lies with archangel Gabriel (Jon Hamm), who shows up unannounced on the doorstep of Aziraphale’s London bookshop. Suddenly, Aziraphale and Crowley are caught up in a caper of biblical proportions – but also a more intimate tale.

“It’s a mystery,” showrunner Neil Gaiman tells SFX. “It kicks off a story that doesn’t have giant consequences for the universe, even if it does have consequences for Aziraphale and Crowley. We have a lot of the marvellous Jon Hamm, who is the angel Gabriel and turns up at the beginning stark naked, carrying a cardboard box with no memory of who he is. In the same way, it is about Aziraphale and Crowley having to get involved with humanity in a way that they haven’t before.

“They get dragged in slightly against their will to try to sort out the love life of Aziraphale’s tenant,” he continues. “Her name is Maggie [Maggie Service] and she runs the record shop next to the bookshop. You’ll see the coffee shop over the road, which is Nina’s [Nina Sosanya]. The relationship between Maggie and Nina is one that Crowley and Aziraphale try to fix, and mess up, because they are not good at human relationships, even if they can do miracles.”

Truth be told, Gaiman never originally intended this arc to serve as Good Omens’ second instalment. The TV series was based on Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s 1990 novel. The two collaborators had partially hashed out the details for a sequel to the fantasy comedy, late one night in a hotel room. This, however, is not it. Gaiman instead plotted a new narrative that could provide the connective tissue between the first season and a theoretical season three, if it happens.

“Because the hypothetical season three exists, there is a story that is there, and I didn’t feel that we could drive straight from season one into that,” Gaiman explains. “I knew what the stakes were. I knew what the parameters were. I also knew that I had David and Michael. I had the angels from plot number one.

I had demons from plot number one. And with anybody that I wanted to bring back, but didn’t have room for right now, I did not have to bring them back as themselves. “I had absolutely nothing for Madame Tracy to do in this plot, but I would be damned if Miranda Richardson wasn’t going to be in this. She is one of my favourite people in the world. She is hilarious and is so good. And I knew I was going to have a new demon replacing Crowley as Hell’s representative in London/ the UK. Miranda’s demon Shax is the best demon you could want.”

It’s late February 2022 and SFX is in Edinburgh for a set visit. A soundstage in Pyramids Studios has been transformed into a street in Soho. The visible local stores include the aforementioned book, coffee and record shops, as well as a magic establishment. In the middle of them all stand Aziraphale and Crowley, the latter in close proximity to his classic Bentley. It’s close to the end of the six-episode season, so exactly what the duo is discussing constitutes a spoiler. We can say, however, that Aziraphale has picked up the pace. Time is of the essence as Shax marshals her forces to descend on Aziraphale’s store and retrieve Gabriel.

“This is really Shax’s first time out on Earth,” Gaiman explains. “She is working very diligently and very hard in Hell for a long time. Now she is on Earth, trying to figure it all out. She’s just discovering what Crowley has known for 6,000 years, which is that if you’re a demon and come up with a brilliant plan to screw up the lives of humanity, people will get there first and do worse than anything you could have imagined! She’s coming to terms with that.

“She is having to deal with the first crisis on her watch, as well, which is the disappearance of the archangel Gabriel from Heaven. It would be fair to say that by the end of the story, she is leading as much as she can get from Hell’s requisition department – a legion of Hell – in an attack on a Soho bookshop.”

When audiences catch up with Aziraphale again, he’s enjoying his time among humans. He owns most of the block in a Soho neighbourhood, and he’s meddling in Nina’s love life. Meanwhile, Crowley has been living in his car, with his plants sitting on the back seat. He’s grumpy about his current status quo, but frequently hangs out at Aziraphale’s. The duo began as antagonists, but their history and blossoming relationship will be fleshed out in flashbacks.

“One of the enormously fun things I came up with is the idea of minisodes,” Gaiman explains. “They are 25-minute-long episodes within the episode. We have three of them over our six episodes. Each of them is like one of those chunks of episode three [in season one]. Whereas the longest one of those was four or five minutes, if that, these are full stories.

“You get to have the story of [put-upon Biblical figure] Job, and you learn Aziraphale and Crowley’s part in the story. Then writer Cat Clarke takes us to Edinburgh in the 1820s for a tale of body-snatching and attempted murder that the boys get involved in,” he adds.

“Finally, Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman reunite the League Of Gentlemen in a Nazi-period story that takes place very shortly after the episode in the church. That one was the only one I said had to be there, because I fell in love with our Nazi spies in the church. I kept thinking, ‘What would happen if they essentially came back as zombies, with a mission from Hell to try and investigate whether or not Crowley and Aziraphale were actually fraternising?’”

Gaiman admits that one of the greatest challenges has been filming Good Omens simultaneously with his upcoming show Anansi Boys. The two shoot within throwing distance of each other, but are both timeconsuming endeavours.

“If I could go back in time, I would go back to 16 September 2020, when Douglas Mackinnon [co-producer] and I got the phone call from the Amazon bigwigs to say, ‘We have good news for you and interesting news for you,’” Gaiman recalls. “‘The good news is we are greenlighting both Good Omens and Anansi Boys. The interesting news is you are going to have to do them both at the same time.’

“I would go back to then and I would throw myself on the call and say, ‘Neil, don’t! This is unwise.’ That we are doing them both together is great. The amount of sleep I am not getting is monumental and monstrous.

“It’s a little bit like childbirth, in that I managed to forget all the things that drove me nuts about the first one. Having said that, I managed to fix all the things that really drove me nuts making season one, which is great. We just have a whole new set of problems making season two…”

The Odd Couple - David Tennant and Michael Sheen talk character and sets for season two

Crowley and Aziraphale come off as the best of frenemies at times. Where do they stand with one other now?

DT: They are indeed. What’s different in season two is because of what happened at the end of season one, they no longer have head offices that they have to report to. They are in a very different position. Whereas before they were trying to get away with things, now they are kind of free agents.

MS: Although sort of fugitives as well. They are sort of in-between. But this amazing life they have created over a millennia, they are now able to enjoy in a slightly different way. They are not having to put on a front for their respective teams. There is a different kind of freedom.

DT: While at the same time being cut off, so they are also strangers in a strange land.

MS: That kind of connects them in a slightly different way. They have always been the only two beings who could understand each other’s position. Now they are pushed even closer together.

Now that they have the run of the place with no obligations, does that bring its own set of problems, being cut off?

DT: They have this sort of uneasy relationship. They are not entirely cut off from their head offices. Indeed, their head offices are quite keen to exploit that sort of adjacent connection, as we will see as the story unfolds. They exist in this grey area, neither the supernatural nor of the Earth.

MS: By the time we pick up their story in this series, they have appeared in time where they were kind of let alone a bit more. When we pick the story up, they are being bothered again.

The depth and the richness and the detail of what we are seeing on set here in Edinburgh is mind-blowing. How is it for you having it all in one place now, rather than having filming scattered around the UK?

MS: It’s completely changed the experience of doing it. Just being indoors… The Soho set on the first season was freezing cold.

DT: I was in a car park. Even inside the bookshop I was exposed to the elements! There’s a greater percentage of the show set here. There was a practical imperative to making it a manageable environment. If we had been in a car park, the elements might have impinged our ability to film.

Hellraiser - David Tennant is Crowley

You and Michael know these characters inside out. Do you have a shorthand?

It’s a hard thing to be objective about. Although I didn’t know Michael that well before we shot season one, it was always easy and exciting working together. It’s well-oiled now, for sure. It’s certainly fun to come to work. We enjoy bouncing off each other.

How comfortable are they about becoming involved with Gabriel?

I suppose Aziraphale is a much more enthusiastic detective. We are very much voting for the spin-off called The Azirafiles, which will follow this! As with most things, Crowley is reluctant to get involved or to exhibit any kind of energy or enthusiasm about very much. He is dragged kicking and screaming into this. Necessity forces him to get involved, whereas Aziraphale rather likes it.

Where does Crowley hang out these days?

He spends a lot of time in the book shop. He only has one friend. He can only have one friend. That is the great liberation, and also the great prison, that they find themselves in. They have no one else. They have come to rely on each other more than they ever did. And more than they care to admit.

Crowley is a rock star, in a way. Were there any particular musicians that inspired you?

Not consciously, no. The look was assembled accidentally during the first costume sessions. The Crowley of the book is of the mode when the book was written. He is more kind of Wall Street, the way he is described. We just decided that Crowley should always be of the moment he’s in. We were just trying to find a look that we felt fitted.

Divine Being - Michael Sheen is Aziraphale

How has knowing your characters better informed this series?

The first series was the first time we really properly worked together. It feels like we haven’t stopped working together since. Everything that has happened in-between plays into coming back to these characters. I am sure it is all feeding into it. It’s very difficult for us to know how that is informing the characters and their relationships.

With the flashbacks to various points in Earth’s history, is there a period of time Aziraphale enjoys the most?

One of the most enjoyable things for the audience and us is moving through different historical periods. It’s a great source of joy, and people thoroughly enjoyed that episode in the first series, so that has been expanded on in season two. But in terms of which Aziraphale enjoys the most, I think it’s not actually a period of time that we’ve seen him in on this series.

He would have been happiest at the end of the 19th century, in the Victorian era, which is considered the golden age of magic. He would have loved being with the greats like Harry Houdini. He loved the Victorian period. It was a great period of time for philanthropy and doing good works in a municipal way.

How has it been going from something dark like The Prodigal Son to a more whimsical show?

That’s the nature of an actor’s job. You go from one thing to another. In some ways, it’s even more useful to have big differences between the characters. What tends to happen, and I think most actors feel this way, is if you are playing one character for a long time, part of you yearns to play the bits the character doesn’t have. There’s a naivety and an innocence about Aziraphale. But at the same time, underneath that, there is eons of knowledge and experience.

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missglaskin · 5 months

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i feel like Otto would use Daemon and Rhaenyra’s secret wedding, mere days after their partners funerals, as the sole ammunition to have Rhaenyra disinherited and second-born!Reader named the Princess of Dragonstone after Otto reminds Viserys the sole reason Rhaenyra was chosen was to prevent Daemon from having the throne. and Alicent will begin planting the seeds of a doubt in Viserys mind that some may not want a the Reader on a throne because she’s adopted but if she married Aegon, the firstborn son, she wouldn’t be contested. that Aegon was better fitted as a consort anyways.

and the Velaryons have mixed feelings about the whole ordeal because Corlys really wanted his blood on the throne but Rhaenys believes the reader will be a much better ruler.

she’s kind of like the “peoples princess” if that makes sense. from a young age she began serving as the king’s cupbearer, allowing her the opportunity to watch the council work, and even there were times when she spoke up. advocating on behalf of the servants for better living conditions or pushing for repairs on the sewage system underneath the city.

not even Rhaenyra could deny that the reader would make a good queen but there’s some resentment directed to her father, angry he still won’t accept that she loves Daemon and there confusion as she watches Daemon wrap a beautiful necklace around the reader’s neck

I apologize for the long haitus, I wanted to return with something so here it is.

The plot just thickens

Before Daemon and Rhaenyra secret wedding, Alicent was already sowing seeds of doubt in Viserys's mind (the reader doesn't have any bastards, last she checked but even so it doesn’t count).And it would be a great irony if Viserys sent Otto away thinking he wanted Aegon to be king (which might be partially true), when in reality it’s the reader he desired to be in the throne. With Lyonel's death, and Rhaenyra's decision to move to Dragonstone with Laenor despite wanting to stay with her sister. Otto and Alicent are only given a better advantage to continue casting doubt on Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra and Daemon's marriage seals the deal, and soon after, they are summoned by a raven from King's Landing.

While the Velaryons may have mixed feelings, they are all in support of the reader in being the chosen heir. It’s Rhaenys who encourages Corlys’ decision to swear his fealty to her. It doesn’t help that Rhaenys believes Rhaenyra and Daemon are the cause for her son’s death and them marrying right after Laena’s death only adds salt to the wound. Rhaenys genuinely believes the reader will be a much better ruler.

When the reader is named heir, there is one final step for both Alicent and Otto to ensure her position (or as they like to say). So it comes as little surprise when the reader is revealed to be wed to Aegon. She already has gained a great deal of knowledge regarding politics throughout the years she was compelled to relocate to accommodate the entire family, from Driftmark to King's Landing to Dragonstone. Alicent and Otto took a step further in letting the reader act as the king's cupbearer, and Viserys naturally agreed. Unlike Rhaenyra who felt undermined in the council, the reader isn't cut off when advocating for herself, rather, she's backed by the green council.

As you mentioned, she has earned the title of the "people's princess” through her charity, her advocacy for improved living conditions for the castle's servants as well insistence on repairing the sewage systems and for better roads. Tales abound in the city about the princess who visits orphanages, escorted, of course, by the finest knights, among them Ser Criston Cole. With all of that, simply wedding the reader to Aegon, already wins him favor at king's landing, besides, it's evident to the court that it's the reader who holds all the power.

It's an internal struggle for Rhaenyra; she feels waves of resentment and anger, sometimes aimed at her father and other times at the reader. But, she can never take the reader's actions personally, not after she offers Rhaenyra dragonstone or when she vows to make her the hand when she ascends the iron throne. So how can she ever be genuinely upset at her beloved sister whom she also thinks would make a wonderful queen?

And for Daemon, whom she observes draping a beautiful necklace—akin to the one he gave her years ago—around her sister's neck. She observes as her ever naive sister turns to face him, beaming as thanks him for the gift.

And for Daemon who she watches wrapping a beautiful necklace around her sister’s neck, similar to the one he gifted her a long time ago. She watches as her sister turns to him, beaming and thanking him for the gift, her sister so naive and innocent. But it won’t be long before Viserys catches wind of it, and if not him, Otto and Alicent will and this is the last thing they ever wish to happen. For they know, no matter how many times they Banish Daemon, he will always find his way to return to your side.

#hotd x reader #yandere concept #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #yandere platonic #hotd concept #house of the dragon x reader #heir!reader

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cloudiewrites · 3 months

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OMG. Hiiii. I love Tom Riddle and Theodore Nott. So I am totally going to ask you if you are comfortable to write either Professor Tom or a Professor Theo x fem reader fic with smut. Feel free to ignore this but I really struggle to find Professor Tom fics and Idk how to write them 😅

Professor Tom Riddle x f!reader

Warnings: strong language, toxic behaviour, manipulation, SMUT reader is a student in the beginning (still over 18!), reader becomes a little bit unhinged towards the middle (who wouldn't after meeting TR?) 18+MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Author's Note: Wow, this took me ages to post! I was having a break from this blog due to my exams, but I promise I will be more active from now on. Also, this is actually my first smut! (Idk how to write them either, so I do hope you like it.) I tried to build some plot into it, so it is not just filthy p*rn, haha. Thank you so much for your request! <3

There are moments that change your life. Moments when you realise you will never be the same and your whole existence is divided into two parts - before this, and after this.

For you, this moment was meeting Tom Riddle.

The memories of that rainy day when your gazes crossed for the first time continue to haunt your thoughts almost every second of your existence. And no matter how hard you try to forget, they become more and more vivid. Sometimes you wonder if you are actually reliving it or if it is just a fruit of your imagination.

The rain was so cold that day, that your whole body was shivering under your soaking clothes. You were running across the courtyard, trying to get inside as soon as possible. Both of your hands were clutching your bag on top of your head, trying to prevent the water from getting into your eyes. You were almost at the door when your body collided with someone, and you lost your balance falling into a muddy puddle.

You looked up, ready to give a piece of your mind to whoever made you end up like this, but your words got stuck in your throat the moment your gaze crossed his.

Eyes as dark as the night. Skin as pale as the moonlight. Hair falling in elegant curls on top of the most beautiful face you have ever seen. He silently offered you his hand, before he took off his jacket and wrap it around your trembling figure.

"Are you alright?", he asked. His voice was smooth like honey, yet deep. You couldn't do anything else other than slowly nod before your cheeks turned a light shade of red. He offered you a small smirk, before guiding you inside the castle. No words were exchanged between you after that.

Looking back, you are sure that this was the moment that changed your life.

You didn't know who he was at first. He looked so young, that it was natural to assume he was your age. You have not seen him before, so he must be a transfer student, just like you were a year ago. "He did not wear a robe, so he must not been sorted yet", you said to your friends later that day and they just shook their heads. No one has heard of any transferring students this year, yet here you were claiming you have seen in the flesh the man of your dreams.

And you were almost convinced you were dreaming a few days later when you found yourself sitting in the back of the class, while he was neatly writing his name on the black board.

Professor Riddle.

"As your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I would like to establish a few ground rules right now", his voice was calm but dominant, "Always come prepared. I do not tolerate lazy students. No talking during class. No questions during lessons. If there is anything you do not understand, you can either conduct your own research in the library or visit one of my additional sessions every third Friday of the month."

Unlike you, the majority of the students have already heard of Tom and some even knew him personally, as he graduated just a few years ago. They carefully listened to all his rules, noting everything they should do to stay on his good side. No matter the house, the respect and fear felt towards Tom was felt by all students. You would lie if you said that this did not include you.

Yet in two weeks time during his first Friday session, you found yourself leaning over your notebook, while Tom was calmly explaining the lesson material to you. You were nodding your head, not paying even a little bit of attention to what he was saying. All you could focus on was the sound of his voice and the tingles that covered your whole body every time he lifted his eyes to your face, checking if were actually following.

"I am curious, miss, for the real purpose of your visit today", he said once you started packing your bag. You immediately froze in place, cold sweat forming on the back of your neck. Your trembling hands closed your bag before you turned to him with a tight-lipped smile.

"I am not sure I understand what you mean, professor."

He offered you a small smile, before grabbing his coat and briefcase and making his way towards you. Stopping just a step away from you, he lifted his hands toward your neck, making you gulp. You stood still, expecting him to wrap his hand around your throat, while his eyes burned into yours. His long fingers inched closer and closer to your skin, before wrapping around your tie and adjusting it so it could be centred.

"I am a patient and understanding man, miss", he said, his hand resting on the piece of cloth for a few more seconds, before moving away, "But I am no fool."

And you knew his words to be true. Because if there was a fool here, that was you. You knew it was wrong to pursue the foolish feelings that started to blossom in your chest. Despite the age difference being only a few years, falling for a professor was never a good idea. But how could you stop yourself when every time his eyes laid upon you there was a feeling of longing behind them? The small touches on your arms, every time he tried to explain to you the parts of the textbook you claimed "not to understand", the way his lips curved in a small smirk every time you volunteered to help during demonstrations in class, the way his gaze darkened that time he saw your friend's arms wrapped around your shoulders during dinner...

He may have thought he was subtle, but you knew there was some part of him that desired you as much as you did.

"What do you think of me, professor?", you asked one day, while sitting on the desk, arranging papers. As you were the only student who showed any interest in DADA sessions outside the scheduled classes, Tom moved the Friday meetings to his private office. They also started to happen every week, rather than once per month. And often, you were helping him with work, rather the other way around. "Why?", his gaze lifted from the papers he was grading, eyebrows furrowing in suspicion. He laid his pen down, crossing his arms in front of his chest and resting his body back on his chair. You sat next to him on a smaller wooden chair, but your hands did not stop arranging the graded exams, and neither did your focus move from them.

"I am...", you took a deep breath, thinking how to phrase your explanation, "Curious, I guess."

Tom watched you with interest, noting the way that your voice trembled in the beginning. Looking up at your face, his eyes trailed every single one of your features, before stopping at your lips.

"You are a good student", he finally said, his tone flat. Your shoulders immediately slumped and you let out a quiet "Oh.", your fingers now pressing the tower of papers on its sides to make sure it is stable. The silence between you grew longer as you tried your best to hide the disappointment you felt from his answer. Tom, on the other hand, was still staring at your face, trying to read your emotions based on your pursed lips and furrowed brows.

"All finished. I think it is better if I go", you finally said, unable to sit in his presence anymore. You stood up, ready to grab your bag from the floor, when cold fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist halting you in place. Tom stood up from his chair, moving behind you. Laying his free hand on the side of your waist, he leaned towards you, nose just a few inches from your hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume, and let out a low groan.

"What I really think...", he murmured, the fingers on your waist digging into your flesh, "is not something I shall voice out loud. The thoughts that flood my mind every time I see you are too..."

Your breath hitched.

"Too?"

"Sinful", you felt his breath on the back of your ear and your body involuntarily shivered. Before you could think of an answer, his hands left your body and he took a step back. You turned around, eager to close the distance again, but were stopped by him grabbing your shoulder and gently pushing you away.

"Do not", he warned, "do not make this harder for both of us."

"But I-"

"I think it is best if you leave."

You gulped. And the first time your eyes did not cast down in shame - instead you held his gaze, your expression hardening.

"You cannot do this to me", your voice trembled, "Toying with my feelings , then pushing me away."

He raised his brow and his hand fell from your shoulder. You stood in place, not making any attempts to get closer.

"I did not do such thing", his voice sounded low and dark, his eyes suddenly turning colder, "In fact, I am telling you now... Whatever hope you hold in your heart about anything happening between us, you should kill it now."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said", he interrupted you impatiently, "And I mean it. But whatever affection I have towards you does not change the fact you are my student."

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of your skirt and you clenched your jaw, moving your gaze towards the door. The rational part of your brain was telling you to just grab your bag and dash through the door. The other part, the one led by your heart, was screaming at you to stay and confront him. It did not take you long to decide which one to listen to.

"Why does it matter?", you snapped, "I am an adult already. And you are only a few years older. It is not illegal or anything!"

Tom let out an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, before running his fingers through his dark curls. He turned around and walked around the desk, before slamming his hands on the hard surface.

"Merlin, you just do not understand!", his voice was full with irritation, "I can not lose my job. I can not lose everything I have worked for!"

"We can hide it", you protested, gluing yourself to his side and gripping his bicep, "Only for a few months! Only till I graduate!"

The man tore your hands away from his arm, cupping them in his palms instead. He tilted his head, searching your eyes, which were now starting to form tears of stress and frustration.

His face suddenly relaxed. The air between you felt lighter and a new spark of hope started to burn inside of you. His finger made its way to your cheek and wiped one of the tears that started to trail down your skin.

"Is it not curious, how weak love makes a man?", his finger trailed down to your jaw, before cupping it, "And no spell in this world is strong enough to save a man that has already fallen."

Your head instinctively leaned towards his hand and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth of his skin on yours. If you could only freeze time, you would stay in this moment forever.

"I don't want to be saved", you murmured and despite not being able to see him, you could feel the small smile that grazed his lips once you said it. You freed your hands from his and wrapped them around his torso, burying your head in his chest. It took a few seconds for him to embrace your body, resting his chin on the top of your head.

And if you could only see the satisfied smirk and cold gaze on Tom's face, you would have known how true his words are. There is no spell in this world that could save you not that you have already fallen...

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You can't say exactly when the dream had turned into a nightmare.

Private sessions became everyday afternoon meetings, where you talked about different random topics. Tom never opened up about his past, even his Hogwarts years. On the other hand, he was a good listener and without you realising it, he managed to unravel your whole family history just within a week.

His silent nature did not bother you, however. You finally had someone who listened to you. You slowly started to detach from your friends, excusing your unnatural behaviour on all the extra academic work you were taking. They were worried, but every time they tried to voice their concerns, you rolled your eyes, before running to Tom to tell him about their words. "They are just jealous of you, my dear, " he would always chuckle, gently stroking your cheek, "because you found what they would keep searching for a long, long time."

Soon, he was the only person you really trusted. And he claimed he felt the same.

This is why he couldn't ask anyone else to sneak into the Headmaster's office and get the little leather diary in one of his desk drawers. This is also why you had to find a way to get the books he was interested in from the restricted section without getting caught. This is also why you had to lure the naive fifth-year Hufflepuff into the Chamber of Secrets and leave her there.

There was simply no one else whom he trusted to do these tasks. And you gladly completed each of his requests without question, doing everything in your power to keep him happy.

But soon this was not enough. And once you graduated all the promises he made to you broke into thousand little pieces, which were discarded into thin air.

"I don't need you anymore", his cold voice said, his eyes glued to the papers in front of him, "You can leave. Make sure you close the door."

Without sparing you even a glance, he grabbed the pile of papers and left for class, leaving you to gather your thoughts and pieces of your heart by yourself.

What did you do wrong? Why did he change so suddenly? Was it all a lie?

These questions continued to poison your mind for the next few years, while you tried to rebuild yourself. You did not realise how dependent you were on him, till you were left on your own. The weight of all the unsaid feelings within you was forcing you onto your knees, making you unable to get up and continue with your life.

And this is how two years after your graduation you found your way back to Hogwarts. The place where it all began...

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The wooden clock on the wall was ticking dangerously close to midnight when Tom finally got to his office. The teacher's gathering has been prolonged unnecessarily due to Dumbledore's ramblings and him finding problems where there are none. The amount of control the young professor has exercised to endure this long meeting has left him completely drained of energy, but he knew he still had to do some research about the Founders' Relics. After so many years he was finally getting close to achieving his goal and he was ready to sacrifice as many nights of sleep as necessary.

He knew something was not right the moment he opened the door. The lights were still off and everything seemed to be in the exact place he left it... but there was just the faintest sound of someone breathing which made him immediately reach for his wand.

"Ah, look who finally came", your giggle reached his ears before he saw you turning on his chair, fingers moving towards the small lamp on his desk, "Terribly rude of you to make me wait this long."

Tom's lips pressed into a thin line and his grip around his wand tightened. He traced his eyes over the visible parts of your body, noting the little changes that had occurred since he last saw you.

Your hair, which was usually neatly combed and put in a bun, was now in a messy braid, the front pieces framing your face. Your lips, which usually curved in a shy smile, were now forming an arrogant, almost sinister smirk. Your eyes, which have always looked up to him full of admiration, were now staring down at him with a glint of insanity.

"Get out", he commanded, striding towards you with his wand pointed towards your head.

Your raised your eyebrows and your mouth shaped an "o" in a mock horror, before you reached for your own wand, pointing it back at him.

"Now that is not a way to welcome your ex-lover, is it?", your eyes squint.

Tom scoffed at your words, stopping at the edge of his desk, before his expression hardened.

"You were never my lover", he stated, his head tilting to the side, "And I thought I was extremely clear when I said last time I saw you that you are not welcome here."

You hummed, eyes moving to the ceiling. Still holding your wand towards him, you relaxed further into his chair, lifting your legs onto his desk. With a curious gaze, you followed the stone patterns of the walls around the room, while scrunching your face in disgust.

"3 years, Tom", you finally said, landing your attention back on him, "3 years you have been here and your office is as bland as it was when you first came here. It brings my mood down, you know? It's so grey!"

"You can leave then", Tom hissed through his teeth, making a few more steps till he stayed right in front of you. The tip of his wand rested under your chin and he pulled it upwards, making you look up, "I am giving you exactly a minute to leave, before I take your life."

A loud giggle left your lips and you pressed your neck further into his wand.

"How generous!"

"45 seconds."

You gently put your own wand back into your pocket, not moving your eyes from his. Tilting your head, your mouth formed a wide smile.

"Okay."

His brows shot in confusion, his jaw clenching. You could see his on the wand became tighter, his knuckles almost white.

"Okay?"

"Do it", you shrug your shoulders, "My ghost will be eager to see how are you going to explain why your new assistant went missing after coming to your office to drop a list of all the students that are going to be in your... our class this year."

Before you know it, his free hand flew to your face and gripped your face. His fingers dig into your jaw, lifting it dangerously close to his face.

"My assistant?", he let out a dry chuckle, "Good try, dear. And a terrible way to waste that minute I gave you."

With lips already starting to form the words of the deadliest spell, his fingers dug deeper into your face, before his eyes landed on the sparkling object in your palms. The unforgivable words quickly died in his throat and he withdrew his wand, stumbling back. Eyes full of anger met yours, who in contrast were sparkling with playfulness.

"How did you get that?", he demanded, reaching towards the object, but you pulled it back, before laying it on your head. Putting your elbows on his desk, you fluttered your eyelashes, smiling brightly.

"Do you think it suits me?"

"Stop playing around."

"You are such a bore", you rolled your eyes, "I went on a holiday to Albania. And I found this gorgeous, gorgeous diadem, which turned out to be Rowena Ravenclaw's. What are the chances?"

Tom seemed unamused by your story, instead twitching his jaw. His eyes stayed glued to the diadem on your head, the reflection of the sapphire on it sparkling in his cold eyes.

"How did you know where it was?", his gaze moved towards you, his hand putting his wand back in his coat. His tall form moved towards you again, this time taking a seat on the empty surface of the desk in front of you. With a smile, you took the diadem out of your head, twirling it between your fingers.

"You don't think you were the only one who managed to charm the famous Helena Ravenclaw, do you?", you raised your eyebrow, moving your tongue across your top lip, "You underestimate the power of women's empathy and love for gossip, Tom."

He let out an airy laugh, running a hand through his thick curls. After two years, he hasn't changed anything about his appearance. His face, his haircut, and even the suits he wore were the exact same ones he already wore when you were a student. You would lie if you said you didn't enjoy it - that meant that the Tom you loved was still somewhere inside of him. Your Tom.

"I'm impressed", he finally said, moving his hands towards his knee and locking his fingers around it. His face dropped into a serious expression once again, "Give it to me."

You tilted your head, pursing your lips. Your eyes moved to the diadem, before landing back on him.

"Oh, I can't do that, Tom", you rested your palm on your chest, looking up at him with doe eyes, "He would be very disappointed if I don't bring it back to him."

Tom took a deep breath, his upper lip twitching.

"He?", he pressed his tongue to the side of his cheek, "Who is "he"?"

You twirled in his chair, pressing the diadem closer to your chest.

"My Lord, of course", you let out a giggle, resting your cheek on your shoulder and closing your eyes. You still managed to see the way Tom's body tensed, however.

"He sent his regards to you", you smiled, standing up, "If you hadn't left me that day, he wouldn't have met me and subsequently learned all about making horcruxes."

The man's eyes immediately darkened and his hand flew towards your wrist, stilling you in place.

"Name."

"Huh?"

"Tell me his name", Tom hissed, his nostrils flaring. You stepped closer to him, noses almost brushing.

"And why would I do that?", you raised your brows, your voice turning into a mocking laugh, "Do you think I would betray him... for you?"

The sudden feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you forward made you almost lose your balance and you grabbed his shoulder in reflex to keep you from falling on top of him. Nesting his head in the curve between your neck and shoulder, Tom pressed his lips next to your ear before muttering:

"You, my dear, are a liar", his teeth grazed the end of your earlobe, "And a very bad one."

Your whole body froze and you tried to push yourself away from him, but his arms were holding you firmly in place. Suddenly all the confidence you have displayed in his presence so far melted under the warmth of his touch, and you were left only with the hope you could still lie your way out of this situation.

"I am not lying", you protested with a quickening breath.

Tom lifted his head from your shoulder and rested his forehead on yours instead. His eyes stared deep into your own and his warm breath on your face made your whole body involuntarily tremble.

"I have already told you I am not a fool", one of his hands slid from your waist towards your arm and then hand, where you were still clutching the diadem. His fingers wrapped around it and pulled it out of your grasp with ease. Without looking at it, he placed it on the desk behind his back, before his hand found its way to the top of your head.

"I know you better than you know yourself, my dear", he muttered, his hand gently stroking your hair, "And I know there is no room in your heart for anyone but me. You would not be here otherwise."

He pulled back enough to be able to take a better look at your face. His gaze fell from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

"You are mine. Always were, always will be."

A loud whine escaped your throat before it was swallowed by Tom's mouth on yours. His plump lips were chapped, a result of hours of his teeth sinking into them, trying to hold back all the snarky remarks he had for his fellow colleagues. The rough feeling made your knees buckle and you closed your eyes, relaxing fully in his arms.

Without breaking the kiss, he turned you around and with a swift move of his hand, pushed the diadem and a few books out of the way, before laying you on the cold surface. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging the soft curls.

A low growl left his lips and he lifted his lips from yours, a trail of saliva connecting them, before it was broken by his fingers cupping your chin.

"This is what you wanted, is it not?", his voice was suddenly deeper and darker, "For me to take you on the same desk I once you graded you."

His words made a loud moan to escape you and your back arched up, seeking nothing more than to be close to him. With a low chuckle, he pressed his palm between your breasts, pushing you flat on the furniture beneath you. You opened your mouth to complain but were quickly silenced once he pushed his index and middle fingers in your mouth, almost making you choke. Fixating your gaze on his, you closed your lips around them and started to suck, making sure to flatten your tongue in the process.

The image before your eyes was something you had dreamt of countless times before - Tom, with his messy curls and parted lips, panting while the fingers of his free hand were skilfully unbuttoning his vest. You did not waste any time in helping him, focusing on shakingly unbuttoning his belt.

"So impatient", he clicked his tongue, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, so could remove his shirt. Once his torso was in full view, you did not hesitate even a second before you lifted yourself in a sitting position and attached your lips to his neck. Nibbling and sucking the smooth skin, you started to nibble and suck your way down to his chest. His head fell back and he closed his eyes, his muscles relaxing under you.

Tom Riddle may not be a man who was capable of love, but he was a man after all. And it would be a lie to say he has never thought of you in a more... erotic way. You have always been so obedient and good, doing everything for him without any hesitation. He has always found that incredibly attractive, but not enough for him to act on his desires.

Now, however, the sight of you has ignited some primal urges within him that he never felt before. Maybe it was the few drinks he had consumed prior at the gathering or maybe it was the idea of the the crazy lengths you were willing to go in order to get back to him...

Tom Riddle would probably never know the reason for him giving up control for the first time in his life. To you, nonetheless.

His mind came back to reality when he felt you pushing him on his chair and nestling yourself between his legs. Looking up at him, you tugged his pants and boxers down, letting his erection free. You let your index finger gently caress the length of it, making it twitch. A small giggle left your lips before you repeated the gesture.

"Stop teasing me", the man groaned, and his palm rested behind your head in order to push you towards his member, but you swiftly moved to the side dodging it. You squinted your eyes, moving your hands to his thighs and digging your nails into them.

"You", the word was hissed through your teeth, "are in no position to order me around."

Tom scoffed and was about to argue when your mouth unexpectedly wrapped around the head of his penis, twirling your tongue around it. He let out a choked gasp and he tried to put his hand on your head again before you smacked it away. Swallowing his pride, he rested both of his arms on the side of his chair, bucking his hip forward.

Carefully watching his reaction you wrapped your hand around him, slowly moving it down and back up again, following the movement of your mouth. The feeling of him filling your mouth was causing some saliva to start dripping your chin, but rather than pulling away, you pushed him further into your mouth till your nose was buried in his dark pubic hair. The feeling of his swollen head hitting the back of your throat made you gag, causing Tom to groan in pleasure.

"Fuck this", he muttered, before grabbing you by your hair and pulling your head up, before pressing it down again. His hips buckled in harmony with your head, making sure you were taking all of him. His dick was now coated in your saliva, making it glisten in the dim light. You closed your eyes, the lack of oxygen making them sting. The rapid pace with which he was moving was making it hard for you to breathe through your nose and you tried giving him a warning slap on his leg, which he purposefully ignored. Instead, he moved his other hand towards your chin and held your head still, while he continued to thrust his hips up and down. Sloppy wet noises filled his office, being interrupted only by his heavy breathing.

Your thighs clenched together in a weak attempt to relieve the burning ache between your legs. The way he was using your mouth to satisfy himself was making your underwear damp, yet you knew better than to touch yourself yet. After so many sleepless nights during which you tried to relieve yourself, imagining how would it feel to taste him, you wanted to focus all your attention only on him.

Feeling he was close, Tom finally pulled your head back and examined your face. Both saliva and tears were smeared all over your chin and your cheeks were flushed in rosy colour.

"What a pretty sight you are, my dear", he smiles, wiping some of it with his thumb. You licked your lips, getting up on your feet.

"And you are such a smooth talker", your face leaner just inches from his, "I wonder if you are as good with the action as you are with words."

Taking this as a challenge, he stood up and pushed you back onto the desk, before lifting your skirt. His fingers hooked under the elastic bands of your panties and with one tug they snapped, leaving you completely exposed in front of him.

Tom gulped, burning the image of your waiting arousal into his mind. His fingers made their way towards your slit, gathering the wetness before easily sliding his middle finger in. You moaned at the contact, fluttering your eyes closed. He pumped his fingers a few times, his eyes carefully observing your facial expression before he slid it out. You whined at the loss of contact, opening your eyelids only to find him smirking down at you.

"Do you really think you deserve me wasting time on your pleasure?"

"Fuck you!", you snapped, resulting in him grabbing your neck and squeezing so hard, an airy cough left your lips.

"Such a dirty mouth", he lifted your face up, his jaw clenching, "but such a weak mind. Look at the pathetic mess you are..."

Your lips parted to offer a snarky response, but your mind quickly went blank the moment he slid fully into you. Arching your back, your hands found their way around his shoulders, while his rested on both sides of your head.

Tom did not waste any time in developing a quick pace, which made you roll your eyes back. With each thrust the head of his cock was brushing against your cervix, making your whole vision white. His left hand moved towards one of your breasts, pinching and twisting the oversensitive nipple between his fingers. His other hand made his way to your pussy, where his thumb started to draw sloppy circles over your clit.

Never in your life have you felt such pleasure in your life. Of course, you had previous lovers during the past two years while trying to get Tom out of your mind, but nothing compared to this. Curling your toes, you lifted both of your legs and rested them on his shoulder.

Both of you groaned in unison when you felt him going even deeper than before. His upper body collapsed on top of yours, his lips immediately latching onto your other nipple. Still gripping his shoulders, you dragged your nails down his back, leaving angry red marks behind.

The knot in your stomach started to tighten and your moans became louder and louder. Moving your hips so you can meet Tom's thrusts, you looked at his face, only to find him staring back with eyes clouded with desire. His fingers were now working faster on your sensitive bud and you let out a shaky breath: "Tom, I...", you could not finish your sentence, your vocabulary suddenly consisting only of his name.

"Shhh", he whispered, his hand moving from your breast to your cheek. He gently stroked it with his thumb and suddenly you saw in front of you the same Tom that charmed you years ago, "I've got you."

His words were enough to cause the knot to snap and your whole body went rigid, squeezing and pulsating around him. A few harsh trusts and Tom suddenly tensed on top of you, as he painted your insides white. You both held onto each other, fingers digging into soft flesh, as you melted into your shared euphoria.

It was not romantic.

It was primal. Rough. Dirty.

It was everything you have imagined.

Finally relaxing on top of you, Tom buried his head in your shoulder, trying his best to calm his breathing down. You laid under him, crushed under his weight, yet enjoying every second of the contact he allowed you to have.

Against your better judgment, you lifted your hand and started to gently stroke his hair. Against his better judgment, he allowed you to and closed his eyes in the process.

Tired from the long day and your office activity, Tom lifted you in his arms, his now soft member slipping out of you and he sat back on his chair, adjusting the backrest so you can both take a more comfortable position.

You lifted yourself from his chest and raised your eyebrow, but bit back your tongue the moment your gaze crossed his stern one, warning you not to voice whatever you had in your mind. Letting out a small chuckle, you shook your head and laid it back down on his skin.

There was an urge burning inside of you to mock him about showing gentleness, but deep down you knew this was your only chance to enjoy it. So you closed your eyes and relaxed, finally being able to fall asleep without the haunting dreams of what could've been.

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The sunlight was painting the whole room in a beautiful gold colour and Tom let out a low groan when he felt it hitting his face. His hand made its way over his eyes, shielding them from the light, while his mind slowly started to become aware of his surroundings. The uncomfortable chair was making all of his muscles ache and he immediately regretted not gathering the energy last night to make his way back to his room. The chill air coming from the window has not helped too, especially when we was only partly covered and-

Tom's eyes shot open looking down at his body and finding his suit jacket thrown over his waist and private parts. You, however, were not to be found. Not on top of him, not on the desk, nowhere in the room.

He immediately stood up, grabbing his pants from the floor and furiously putting them on, while breathing heavily. His gaze fell on the stack of books he pushed from his desk last night and he immediately fell on his knees, scanning the floor around him.

"No, no, no", he hissed under his breath, pushing his hair out of his eyes, "That little serpent!"

Not only you have left, but you also have taken the diadem with you. No matter how much he searched for it, it was definitely not here.

You tricked him.

Getting up back to his feet, Tom kicked one of the books on the floor, before slamming his hands on his desk. His breathing was hard and he could feel his blood boiling in his veins. Suddenly, his attention was caught by a small parchment of paper placed next to his quill. Unfolding it, he could have sworn his heart stopped for a second.

"My dear Tom,

Thank you for our wonderful night together. I did not want to leave you so early, but I had to be out of the castle before everyone else woke up. To be truthful with you, I am not going to be your new assistant. But your already knew that, so I guess it is not shocking news. I sneaked it yesterday when all of the teachers were having a party (or what you call a gathering, ha!). Neither do I have a new lord. You already knew that as well.

Do not stress about the diadem, as it is safe with me - if there is one thing I learned from you is that I need to take good care of horcruxes once they are made. I know it was probably foolish of me to bring it to you last night, as it does hold a part of my soul, but I promise that from now on I will take better care of it.

Without doubt your paths shall cross again. Remember Tom: You are mine. Always were, always will be.

Love, y/n

P.S. - I hope you do not mind that I helped myself by getting your keys from your jacket and getting a shower in your room. Also, I think you need to follow your own advice and start putting your objects away. I found your diary resting on your bedside table, so I had to take it with me. Do not worry - I promise I will keep it safe...

for now."

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CC artwork: Nasan Hardcastle

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #slytherin imagine #tom riddle smut #professor tom riddle #professor tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #professor tom riddle smut

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flowersandbigteeth · 6 months

Text

Meeting your drider general

A/N: It's the middle of October, so I wrote a spider story ^_^

There have been a lot of requests for NSFW drider content. I don't plan on doing any NSFW of my other drider character Vass (he is just too pure 😳), so this is a completely different story in a completely different universe, literally.

General Plot: You've been stolen from your home by a lich, who has declared himself King and assigned a handsome drider general to watch over you, his Queen.

Word Count: 7k

Drider (Ruvain) x fem reader

TW: arachnophobia! THERE ARE SPIDERS! (<- heavy spooky, spider content), a rather graphic death of a minor character, bondage, nsfw drider smut, some graphic violent talk, mention of self harm, yandere behaviors and talk

“You must do it again,” the lich who called himself King hissed at you.

You tried not to glare, tried not to imagine his slow, agonizing death. The amulet he’d fuzed with his body prevented you from harming him, though if you had a single second left in your life where that amulet was gone, you would use it to cut off his cock and feed it to him. You’d spend your last moments smiling as he bled out while he choked to death.

Instead, you lifted the spoon to your lips and tipped the soup into your mouth. It was delicious, as all things were in this castle, but you only tasted ash.

“Yes, that’s more like a Queen,” he cooed, brushing his hand over your hair.

His cold fingers drifted further to your cheek, and you forced yourself not to jerk your body away. Since you’d been captured only a few days earlier, you asked yourself if it was worth waiting to seek revenge. You could end yourself and join the family King Camus had slaughtered to obtain you in the afterlife.

Perhaps you were too much of a coward, but you liked to think that one day you would find a way out of this trap, and then you would take your revenge.

Camus was the cruel ruler of the country of Ventirest, where you’d been born.

You would have lived and died in the small town Cerulle, where your family lived as ranchers, if Camus hadn’t come riding through on a countryside tour. He just happened to see you leading a cow through the market and, in his words, “fell in love.”

That was a lie. Camus didn’t love anything but himself. He wasn’t a popular king, but he had that amulet and an army of monsters to keep the mostly rural country in line. You all toiled to pay his high taxes, though you made very little. He’d sent a page to your father to inform him you’d been chosen as his Queen and that your future was secure.

Perhaps your family would have thanked him for your good fortune if it were a different King, but your parents were only afraid. How long until he grew bored of you and snuffed you out? They tried to hide you, saying you’d run off, and they couldn’t find you. Camus sent his dogs to sniff you out, and when they found you, your family was punished for protecting you. They were all killed, everyone who carried your family name, and you were thrown in his carriage on your way to the Capital.

So, for the past two mornings, you’d wondered to yourself if this was all a waste of time. You pretended to be obedient. You did as he said and let him touch you, though you feared the day that his advances would grow more intimate. He’d promised you that you were lucky that he found you so desirable but was willing to give you a few days to “acclimate” before he forced you into his bed.

You shuddered at the thought of his cold body, which carried the stench of rotting corpses touching your warm skin.

“Master! Master!” one of Camus’ servants yelled, running in with a pile of maps and books in his arms.

“What is it?” Camus snapped. “I’m in the middle of an etiquette lesson with my Queen. What can be so important?”

“Of course, I would only interrupt you if it were dire!” the servant said, throwing himself to his knees in a bow. “And it is dire!”

Scrolls and books flew everywhere as he prostrated himself.

“Well, get on with it. What’s the matter?” Camus barked.

“There’s an uprising, Your Majesty,” he whimpered, afraid he’d be killed as the messenger. “The villages of the west, where you obtained your Queen, have sworn to overthrow you for stealing a child of the land! They mean to take her back to her home.”

Camus snorted, but your heart skipped in your chest. The people of the land came together for you? To seek revenge on your behalf? Your eyes misted with tears. You knew the people of the land were good and just. Their loyalty to a mere farm girl touched you deeply. Inside, you also wept for them. Camus was an immortal lich. You knew of no way to kill him. Many of the people who rode for you would die.

“I didn’t steal her! I am the Goddess's chosen ruler of this land! All women are mine,” he snarled. “I could take every farm girl in this country, and I would still not be wrong. Perhaps I will after I’ve rendered their heads from their necks!”

“Of course, of course,” the servant said. “I am only repeating the reports. I would never-”

“Ruvain!” Camus shouted to nowhere in particular, and from the vaulted ceiling, cloaked in shadows, a drider appeared, elegantly sliding down a length of silk. Despite and maybe because of his bulbous body and eight brown legs, he was incredibly handsome. His eyes shimmered a rich gold, and his hair matched, laying over his tan shoulder in a thick braid.

“You called, Your Majesty?” the half man, half spider, asked, his voice smooth as the silk he’d arrived on.

“I need to convene with my generals. Guard the Queen!” Camus snapped.

The drider looked a little offended.

“Am I not a general, Your Radiance? Have I been demoted?” he asked.

Camus let out a wet laugh.

“No, but you’re the ugliest of the bunch,” he chortled. “I can’t leave my new Queen with someone too pretty, lest she get the wrong idea. Your eyes alone would send any woman running.”

You felt outraged, not only that he questioned your character, but that he’d called this beautiful creature ugly.

The drider’s eight eyes met yours for a moment. They shined like gold coins, and you saw they held the same fire and hate. He, too, was putting on an act.

He gave Camus a deep bow.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he said, and Camus ran out of the room, dragging the poor servant behind him.

When you were alone, you took the measure of the drider.

“I don’t suppose you’d agree to lose me accidentally, would you?” you asked. “I can just slip out of the window over there. I’ll give you a slap if you want to say I fought you.”

He let out a chuckle that made your heart flutter.

“It is wise to let the King have his way,” he said vaguely, though he circled you, looking more closely.

“I don’t like that he called you ugly,” you said, looking deeper into his eight gold eyes. “The only ugly one here is him. He smells like rot. You can smell that, can’t you? Everyone pretends…Anyway, I think you’re very handsome, actually. I quite like your legs, if I’m to be honest. And your eyes are…arresting…uh, in a…ah good way.”

At that, the drider smiled, revealing large, pointy teeth that sent a quake to your stomach.

“He bathes in perfume,” he commented evasively, rescuing you from your own awkwardness.

“Well, it’s not working. The perfumer should be shot…or maybe that’s just how bad he smells,” you said.

The drider looked amused.

“He hasn’t yet conquered you? Has he?” he asked.

“If I could stab him in the neck, I would,” you admitted, clutching the silver spoon you held. “Only it wouldn’t work, would it? He’s warded himself cleverly.”

“You don’t fear retribution? Telling all this to his general?” he asked, touching a lock of your hair and examining it.

“I don’t believe he’s conquered you, either,” you said. “I’d bet my life on it. You want out of here just as much as I do. What’s keeping you? You’re strong…and very stealthy, I might add. How long were you watching from the ceiling?”

He tipped his head, interested in you. Everyone around Ruvain whimpered and cowered in front of Camus; you were very different.

“Where is a monster like me to go?” he asked. “The village from where you came would never accept me. If I didn’t work for Camus, I would have to live in the forest, where some intrepid knight would come for my head on a quest, thinking I had a magic liver or some other such nonsense. I was stolen from a land far from here, and I’m unsure how to return..”

“So you bide your time serving that asshole?” you asked.

He looked thoughtful.

“I thought having access to the royal library would produce some results,” he admitted. “Camus pulled me through a portal. I can’t take a ship back. For all I know, he’s taken me from another universe entirely. In fact, that’s how he obtains all of his ‘monsters.’ To answer your other question, I’ve been watching you since you arrived.”

“And in all this time, you’ve found nothing?” you asked.

He frowned.

“Camus has a secret workshop that I think holds the answers I seek,” he said, “but I can’t get access to it. It’s warded, and if I tried, Camus would know and order my death. I have to approach it very carefully.”

“Slimy bastard,” you grumbled, and Ruvain gave you another of his silky chuckles.

“It is very frustrating, but I wouldn’t say I’ve found nothing. I’ve certainly found something,” he said, his eyes flashing.

“Well, is it useful?” you asked.

His eight eyes blinked in an eerie cascade.

“Only time will answer that question,” he said.

“Care to share?” you said, and he gave you a wide smile.

“We’ve only just met. I can’t reveal all of my secrets,” he said.

You scrubbed your hair and growled your frustration.

“Since I’ve come here, it’s been nothing but secrets,” you huffed. “I miss my ranch. I miss my family. He took the only good things in my life, and now…now I’m just a doll for him to dress.”

“Know this (Y/N): you have my protection,” he said.

You sighed.

“You don’t have to make me promises like that, Ruvain,” you said. “I know you’re only looking after me for Camus. I don’t need your lies. I’m all too aware of the truth.”

He tipped his head and gave you a curious look.

“You will learn the truth of things soon,” he said ominously.

You wanted to ask more, but Camus came in like a tornado, his face the picture of rage.

“How could they?” he snarled. “They are nothing…ants, and they think they can capture me? I’ll destroy them…crush them under my boot.”

His spooky eyes, milky white, turned in your direction.

“I’ll have you tonight!” he said, which seemed to cheer him up a bit.

He crossed the room and cupped your cheeks in his hands, meeting your gaze.

“You’re thrilled, aren’t you, darling?” he asked. “You’ve been waiting for my body, haven’t you? Saving yourself for me? I won’t make you wait any longer, and I’ll fly your virgin blood as a flag for those vermin to see as they arrive. Before they die, they’ll know I’ve taken you and filled you with my seed.”

He was too frantic, his eyes filled with madness, to notice your fear. You did not want him to touch you, and you weren’t a virgin. You trembled, wondering what he would do when he discovered that fact. It wouldn’t be your virgin blood on that sheet; it would come straight from your veins.

He clapped his hands and grinned, his crooked, rotting teeth making bile rise in your throat.

“I must prepare myself!” he beamed. “Our first night of passion and the counteroffensive must be timed perfectly!”

His eyes flicked to the drider.

“Take my Queen into the city, to the fashion district,” he said. “I want her to choose something just for me. A dress, lingerie, oils and perfumes!”

You were surprised he didn’t want to dress you himself, but it seemed he wanted to feel that you adored him, proving so with whatever you chose. You wanted to be sick.

“Don’t let me down, (Y/N),” he said, winking at you.

You gave him a tight bow.

“It will be as you wish, Your Highness,” you choked out, and he hurried out of the room.

You gave Ruvain a serious look.

“End me, Ruvain,” you said. “I’m too much of a coward to put a knife to my own skin. Do me this favor. I won’t let that…monster touch me! He’ll have fuck my cold corpse.”

Ruvain shook his head.

“There are so many reasons I won’t grant you your request, but the most important for you to know is that death will not end your misery. If you kill yourself, If I killed you…he would resurrect you…tie you to him for eternity,” he explained. “A far worse fate than a few minutes underneath him.”

Your heart turned cold as ice, and you gasped.

“No,” you murmured. “He can’t! I can’t…”

“He will,” Ruvain insisted, lowering himself so you were eye to eye.”Camus has no real magic but we can get out of artifacts. He experiments with alchemy. Reanimating bodies, fusing what few relics he finds to living hosts…But I told you. I will protect you.”

“How?” you gasped. “He holds all the cards.”

“Well, the window wasn’t a good option, but now we have some time to play with,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “First, we need to get a message out to your kin. They will only get themselves murdered coming here when we’ve just escaped.”

“Escaped?” you asked. “What do you mean? You just said you wouldn’t let me escape.”

He smiled down at you.

“I told you I would protect you,” he said. “I’ve been working out a plan since I first saw you.”

You blinked up at him.

“You-you have?” you asked.

He gave you a grave look.

“I’m no better than Camus,” he admitted. “I won’t return you to your countrymen, but I will protect you. In my web, you will always be safe. Do you…do you hate me?”

Your mouth dropped open, and you slowly shook your head. Your cheeks were burning like hot irons. The handsome drider thought he would take you for his own? Fear and uncertainty flickered within you, but Ruvain didn’t smell like death, and making love to him would be no hardship, assuming driders and humans could make love.

“Um..n-no,” you said. “I don’t hate you…”

He smiled, showing a white, sharp fang.

“That’s enough for me,” he said. “Now to your message. I have many spies that can reach out to your countrymen, but they won’t believe a warning coming from me. You must record one on a recording crystal. You’ll tell them you’ve escaped and are fleeing, not to come for you.”

He gave you another sobering glance.

“Once you record this, however, there is no doubt it will eventually fall into Camus’s hands. I have many spies, but so does he. He will know you ran from him, and he will spare no expense to find and punish you,” he said.

“Wait, wait!” you said, waving your hands. “What about you? You have a mission here. We can’t run away without whatever he has in his lab!”

He smiled again.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over that,” he said. “With a gorgeous companion, my time in this realm will be far more…pleasant. Returning to my homeland can wait.”

You took a step forward, setting a hand on his fuzzy leg.

“I don’t want to tear your dreams from you, Ruvain,” you said. “It’s not fair. My family is gone…they’re never coming back, but yours are waiting for you.”

His face softened into an expression that was hard to imagine a powerful drider would have.

“You’re still very young,” he assured you. “People assume dreams are static things, that they are losing something if they change. That’s not true at all. Dreams morph and blossom like flowers. You are stealing nothing from me and giving me so much more in return.”

Again, your cheeks burned from his tenderness. If he had some nefarious plan for you, he was doing a damn good job breaking down your walls.

He chuckled.

“Camus is going to be very angry when he realizes you walked right out of the front door to escape him,” he said. “I kind of wish I’d be here to see it.”

You gave Ruvain a shy nod, and he waved a hand for you to proceed.

“After you, my Queen,” he said.

—

The sun was sinking low in the sky when you climbed into the royal carriage. Ruvain walked alongside as it made its way slowly through the bustling city. The citizens were used to seeing Camus’s monsters running errands, and many of them had even made friends when they went to drink in the bars and visit the brothels.

They were much more afraid of who might be inside the carriage. No one wanted to be in the King’s eyeline. It would only lead to ruin. Ruvain had given you a recording crystal, and in the privacy of the carriage, you’d made your message and returned it to him.

You’d told those who would avenge you that you were escaping and going into hiding. You told them not to look for you for their own safety but that you would send a message later to assure them you were okay.

You could not tell them to drop their uprising. Those who would stand up to their King did so for many more reasons than a single woman; you were only the last straw. A revolt was a long time coming, so you sent them the Goddess’s blessing and only asked them to be smart and safe. Do not fly into battle blinded by rage, you’d warned. The King is wiley and immortal. You must be quiet and clever if you mean to unseat him.

Your heart pounded as you entered the fashion district. Ruvain insisted you needed to be seen shopping, or the King’s spies would realize you were running immediately. Ruvain worked best in darkness, so you would stay out until sunset.

You went to shop after shop poking around. Not intending to wear any of it, you purchased the most expensive, obnoxious items you could, happy to be spending the King’s money frivolously. Your heart pounded in your chest as the sun set. It was time to put your plan into action.

Ruvain took you to a spa to have you bathed, plucked, and oiled up like a dinner chicken. Only you didn’t do any of that. The moment you were checked in, you asked one of the ladies for the bathroom and slipped out of the back door.

Ruvain was supposed to meet you in the alley on the other side, and the two of you would climb the rooftops out of the city.

That’s not who greeted you when you opened the door. Yes, Ruvain was there, but he was surrounded by six of Camus’s monsters– three nagas and three minotaurs. Camus stood there, smugly tossing the crystal you’d sent in his hand.

“Tsk. Tsk.” he said, peering at you in the torchlight. “I offered you everything, and you chose to betray me. You should know this spider is a devil. He would have eaten you once you left the city. However, I am kind, and you are just a naive farmgirl; I’ll give you a chance at redemption. Come to me.”

He held his hand out to you. You growled at him. Now that your escape plan had been discovered, there was no reason to pretend.

“I’d rather he eat me one limb at a time than fuck your zombie body!” you snapped, then spat at him.

Ruvain gave you a glance filled with both worry for your mouthing off and also sudden determination. Camus’s face turned to one of pure rage.

“You snivelling bitch! You’re nothing! I could have had you and then tossed you in a ditch, but I offered you the world! To be a Queen!”

“You’re nothing but a filthy murderer who hides behind creatures with nowhere else to go!” you shouted. “Those who have come to challenge you do so with nothing but pitchforks and torches. They have more spine than you’ll ever have!”

“You won’t speak to me that way!” he snarled, the nagas at his side slithering towards you and one grabbing you by each arm.

“I’m going to let you watch while my monsters tear this traitor’s legs off one by one!” Camus promised, glaring at Ruvain.

His face had lost the fear it held and was only a mask of indifference.

“Perhaps,” he said, eyeing the minotaurs approaching him. “You are not the only one protected by magic. You know so little of the creatures you've detained."

He murmured some words under his breath, and in the flickering firelight, a wave of darkness roiled around you. It looked like the earth itself was writhing, a shiny black, living oil…only it wasn’t liquid. You couldn’t tell what it was exactly until the wave began climbing one of the naga’s bodies. Then it was all too clear; millions of spiders rolled over him like the tide rising.

His screams pierced the night air as he frantically tried to brush them off.

It was no use; the wave kept coming, and more and more spiders filled the alley, climbing the walls and smothering the torches.

“I’ll give you a choice,” Ruvain told the other monsters. “You can die like your friend is going to die…or you can hand me the girl and join me.”

“Don’t you dare!” Camus screeched, watching in horror as the naga’s face, covered in spiders, began to bloat, pustules forming and popping from their venomous bites until he all but dissolved in front of you.

The other monsters looked horrified, and a moment later, you stumbled to the ground as they dropped you.

“Come here, darling,” Ruvain hissed, waving a hand at you.

You scrambled across the ground, the sea of spiders parting in your path.

Ruvain scooped you up and set you on his back.

“You fool!” Camus snarled, tearing his eyes away from the bloated, deformed body beside him. “You can’t harm me! I’m invincible!”

Ruvain laughed.

“I don’t need to harm you. In fact, I need you alive,” he said. He nodded at two of the minotaurs. “Bring him. We’re returning to the castle. I’m sending you all home.”

Camus screamed and howled, but carrying him against his will was no harm, so his amulet did nothing. His only power was in the monsters he wielded. He carried no other weapons because he was arrogant and smug. His monsters would follow his order to the letter because they had nowhere else to go.

The minotaurs dragged him behind you through the back alleys. Everyone in the city knew not to meddle in anyone else’s affairs. Camus himself had set such a precedent. So they ignored his cries, as they’d been taught. Shutters closed, and doors were locked as you proceeded to a secret back entrance to the castle.

As you moved through the castle, the monsters you passed were quite happy to let you through. Ruvain told them simply that he was sending them home, and they fell in line, interested to see how this played out. They all had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

You stopped in front of a door covered in runes.

“Open it,” Ruvain barked.

Camus, still filled with pride, shook his head.

“Never! I’ll never bow to a bunch of mindless creatures!” he spat.

Ruvain shrugged.

“I can’t hurt you; we all know that,” he said. “But spiders crawling in and out of all your orifices for the rest of your miserable eternity causes no direct harm. I can’t imagine it will be pleasant, though.”

If Camus’s face could blanch, it would have.

“Let me go; I have to use my hands!” he snapped.

The minotaurs looked to Ruvain for guidance, and after a thought, he nodded.

Camus stumbled forward, turning three of the runes so they formed a pattern you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t seen it after it was solved. The heavy stone door slid open to a set of stone stairs leading downward.

“Let’s go, him first,” Ruvain said, shoving Camus forward.

The parade of monsters followed Camus into the darkness. You worried he’d tricked you all when you finally reached a basement that smelled of rot. You coughed and covered your mouth.

“What is that smell?” you asked, but it was soon clear.

The laboratory, if you could call it that, was filled with dissected bodies. Monsters, people, you couldn’t tell one from the other as they were all flayed like raw fish. The only other notable thing other than sets of alchemy tools, bits of metal, and flesh was a large round mirror on one wall.

“Hold him,” Ruvain told the minotaurs, “don’t let him touch anything. I know what I’m looking for.”

Ruvain set you on the ground and started shuffling through papers. He gave a cheerful shout when he found the right scroll and a small book. You peeked over his shoulder, curious.

“This is the spell to take us home,” he said, then showed you the book. “These are the coordinates of where he pulled us all from.”

“Now then,” he said. “Since we no longer need him, what shall we do with him?”

You all looked around the room,y our eyes landing on the torture equipment, disappointed you couldn’t just dissect him like he’d done to the poor souls rotting on the tables.

One of the nagas had an idea.

“Let’s lock him away, where no one will find him, and he’ll never escape,” he said, nodding to a small inset in the wall near the back of the room where a candelabra would normally go. It was just the right size for a body.

“I expect your silk is too strong to break with his fingers or teeth," the naga said.

Ruvain's face filled with an evil smile.

“That it is, friend!” he said, “I can spin a silk so strong even steel swords or fire won’t break it.”

“No! No! You can’t!” Camus screamed, but it was no use.

Locking him up caused no direct harm, so there was nothing he could do. As a lich, he did not need to eat or breathe, so a comfy coat of spider silk was harmless to his health.

He cried and begged, promising everyone in the room the world, but Ruvain simply took him in his arms, taking his time as he wrapped line after line of silk around him. The monsters listened to each scream and cry with satisfied smiles until Ruvain stuffed his mouth with spider silk and sealed it up. He finished wrapping as Camus whimpered, a mummy of white silk. Then he stuck him in the inset and sealed the whole thing up with a web of more silk. You couldn’t even hear him inside. From the outside, it looked like a nasty spider infestation but nothing more.

The monsters gave one another high fives as their task was complete.

“Now to send you all home,” Ruvain said.

He scurried over to the mirror, twisting and turning various runes until a world appeared in the glass.

“Home!” the minotaurs gasped, racing forward through it before Ruvain had even waved them on.

You winced, expecting them to shatter the glass, but instead, they passed right through it. They ran through without a single glance back. One after another, he put in the coordinates of each of the monsters’ homes, and they left, some of them thanking him, others so excited they simply ran before the chance passed them by. When every monster was gone, you gave Ruvain a sad look.

“It’s time for you,” you said, smiling a little. “You were my savior, and I can never thank you enough for that, but I understand you need to return home.”

He smirked at you.

“Now I can go home whenever I like,” he told you. “And perhaps I will someday, but now we have your world to attend to.”

You looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean? You’re free? Why aren’t you running like the rest?” you asked.

“Because my world never needed me and this world needs a Queen,” he said. “And a Queen needs her guardian knight and first general. With the word of their Queen, your world will accept me, not as a monster, but as your companion.”

He bowed in front of you, taking your hand and kissing it.

“I offer you my life, Your Radience,” he said, then peeked up and winked at you. “But don’t think because you’re my Queen, I’m ever letting you go. You’re mine, and we will rule this land together.”

He stood and looked around.

“Now, let’s get out of this filthy place. I’ll have the mirror moved somewhere that doesn’t smell like death and seal this miserable laboratory up forever,” he said. “I’ll be sure to make it look like every other wall in this castle so no one has the bright idea to go exploring looking for treasure and instead finding an angry lich.”

He returned you to his back, and the two of you ascended back to the empty castle. Footsteps echoed through the halls, and soon, you were faced with a bunch of farmers carrying torches and pitchforks.

“Free her from the creature!” someone shouted, but you held up your hands in panic, worried they would hurt Ruvain.

“My companion is not your enemy, people of the land!” you shouted.

They all looked at one another, confused.

“He’s one of Camus’s monsters!” one of them said.

“NO, no. You are very wrong,” you explained. “Ruvain has freed us from Camus and sent all of the monsters back to their homes. They never wanted to be here to start. Ruvain is mine. You will not take him from me!”

The villagers looked confused, but they’d noticed on the way in that no one had put up a fight. The monsters appeared to be gone, and the castle was empty, but what servants hadn’t run the moment no one was looking.

“Her Majesty (Y/N) gives me too much credit,” Ruvain said, smiling down at you. “She is the one that deserves your thanks for freeing us from the nasty lich. I am only her servant, bound by the same gratitude as you should be. She is my Queen and should be yours as well for her service to the kingdom. There is a power vacuum now that the lich is gone. Do you want it filled with some other despot who cares nothing for you or a woman from your own land? She’s brave, kind, intelligent, and beautiful. The countryside will welcome a humble Queen who is one of their own.”

Ruvain bowed to you deeply. The lead villager gave you an odd look and turned to discuss the issue with his fellow countrymen. A moment later, torches were extinguished, and pitchforks hit the floor with a clang as the villagers bowed as well.

“Long live Queen (Y/N)!” they shouted in unison.

You couldn’t help your burning cheeks, but you knew your kin needed strength, not a shy girl, so you tipped your head.

“I promise to serve you well,” you said as Queenly as possible. “Now, we must rebuild what Camus has broken. You are the bravest, strongest citizens of Ventirest. You came here knowing you would face monsters with only your farmtools and spirits. I can never truly express how your care for a simple farm girl moved me. I would be honored to have you form my guard if you are willing.”

“We will begin to rebuild tomorrow,” Ruvain said. “For tonight, you have traveled a long way, and the Queen has accomplished much in only a few hours. Let’s all rest. Run and tell the heralds to inform the people Camus is defeated. Tonight, they should celebrate their freedom.”

The villagers gave Ruvain uncertain glances, but mostly because it was hard not to be frightened by such a large creature, especially one with eight legs. You encouraged them with a nod, and they gathered their tools and took off to the barracks where the monsters used to sleep when they ran the guard.

“I’ve told you a lie,” Ruvain admitted when they’d gone as he sat you on his back.

“What is that?” you asked, your heart fluttering, hoping he wouldn’t let you down, that he didn’t do this all to trick you.

“I told them you needed rest when, really, I just wanted you all to myself,” he said.

His gold eyes glinted with mischief.

“Should I be worried?” you asked, your voice wan, and he chuckled.

“Only if you don’t like orgasms,” he said, crawling down the hallway towards the unused Queens chambers.

You’d have to fumigate the former King’s room and bed. It all smelled like rot.

Your cheeks burned again at his words, and a very special tingle shot down your spine to your core.

When you entered the room, he set you down on the floor, sliding the door shut behind you with one elegant leg. You watched, your heart racing, as he slowly and deliberately lit the fireplace, then the candles, casting your bedroom in soft, flickering light.

When his gold eyes finally met yours, they were full of hunger.

"You said you'd rather I eat you than for that lich to fuck you," he hummed, circling you to take in your form.

He lowered his head, sniffing your neck.

"I liked that," he purred, and a shudder that was something between fear and excitement rolled through you.

You let out a yip, as he pounced on you, taking you up in his arms and climbing gracefully to a shadowy corner at the arch of the vaulted curling.

Candlelight flickered in his eyes so that they glowed in the darkness.

Another surprised yelp echoed against the stone, mixed with the sound of fabric tearing as Ruvain ravenously stripped your dress from you with his teeth. Strips of gold and indigo fluttered to the floor far below.

“You’ll never don human clothing again,” he insisted. “I’ll have dressed made of spider silk, so you always wear my mark.”

When you were bare, he examined every part of you, all the white spinning web he crisscrossed to form a large nest for the two of you to rest.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you asked, your breath shaking as one arm, then the other was bound by silver silk.

He grinned at you.

"This is how driders mate," he hummed, diligently tying elegant knots to bind your limbs. Your legs were tied open, and your neck and hips pulled slightly so your back was arched, your breasts presented to him.

You had to admit the knots and lace he formed with strong, nimble fingers were beautiful and complex. You trembled both with a touch of fear and a lot of desire. His chest and arms were chiseled from a lifetime of climbing around lofty places. Your eyes followed his elegant movements.

The men you'd known from town were stocky and strong from a farmer's life of chopping wood and eating beef, but Ruvain's figure was all athletic elegance. His muscles were chorded and lean, flexing as he tightened one knot and then another.

It was a delight to watch.

When he seemed happy with the lace of web he'd tied you up with; his attention turned to you. A finger traced your breasts, then drifted lower where his eyes ate up the tender flesh between your thighs.

"I've been dying to taste you, darling," he said, glancing up.

His lips brushed yours lightly at first, and then as if you were a sweet surprise, they landed more firmly, his tongue pushing into you.

"Mmm," he groaned, tasting you as it slid over yours.

When he pulled away, he looked ravenous.

Lowering his head, he returned to examining you between your thighs, fingers parting your folds.

"I'm fascinated by your anatomy. Your two legs hide such a pretty treasure."

He circled your clit, making you moan. Never in your life had you thought being trussed up would get you hot, but your cunt was dripping for him. You squirmed in the soft silk bindings, testing their tightness. You were his prey. He could do what he liked to you.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, his head lowered, a long, searing tongue collecting the moisture at your slit.

"Mmm," he hummed, licking you with long strokes between pressing kisses onto the inside of your thighs. "I love how soft you are. You're going to feel so good on my cock."

His tongue explored your channel, making you let out a loud gasp.

"Mmm, Ruvain," you murmured, making him chuckle, the silky laugh that made your nipples harden.

"Are you eager for me?" he asked, teasing you with a finger as his eyes focused on your face, a smug smirk on his lips.

"P-please Ruvain," you whimpered, every inch of your skin tense and sparkling, begging for release.

"Be patient, little human," he purred. "I'm still exploring."

One finger circled your back hole experimentally before two more entered your pussy.

"Ahhh!" you mewled, twisting in your bonds.

He lowered his head again, licking and sucking your clit until your pleading and sobbing filled the room. His fingers worked inside you gently, the third teasing you where you'd never been touched before. You didn't know it could feel good, but he drove you mad. He brought you higher and higher until you cracked, and an orgasm bloomed from deep in your core and blossomed over your whole body.

Your nipples especially were tight and desperate for his touch.

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking your flavor off the ones covered in your juices.

"Mmm," he said, briefly closing his eyes as he savored you.

When you'd regained your senses, Ruvain was perched over you, palming his cock as he watched you. His other hand pinched a nipple, twisting it gently to see your response. The eyes you were trying to keep open squeezed shut as he toyed with them, soon leaning down to play with them with his tongue.

"So sensitive," he growled, and you felt his sharp teeth nip at the sensitive skin, "and so vulnerable. You're all mine. I could keep you up here forever and torture you, making you fall apart over and over again for me."

"I need you, Ruvain, please," you whimpered, your eyes on the large shaft he was stroking in his hand.

The smile on his lips widened to show all of his sharp teeth.

"I do like it when you beg," he hummed. "Your sweet pleas are very hard to resist."

He didn't make you wait any longer, sheathing himself in your hot, wet cunt. He hissed, and his hands gripped your hips as he seated himself inside of you.

"You're searing inside," he groaned, sliding slowly out and thrusting back in with a bit more force.

You jerked in the silk as he drove into you for several strokes, purely for the pleasure of breaching you, before his sense came back to him. His eyes shone as he kneaded your breasts and curled his body down to you to invade your mouth with his tongue. It moved against yours, mimicking the treatment your pussy was getting.

His powerful hips slammed into yours, held firm by his web. You cried out in his mouth, and you heard a lusty growl build in his throat. He pulled back, leaving your lips wet and shining.

"That's it my sweet little human, milk my cock," he hummed, never taking his eyes off of yours.

Your pussy was doing all of the work since you couldn't move, squeezing and spasming around his thick cock.

"You belong to me. Every inch of your tender flesh; your mouth, your cunt, your cute little asshole are mine to use and enjoy," he growled, one hand clutching your throat while he pounded harder and more raggedly.

"If anyone else touches what's mine, I'll kill them, slowly. You understand? I'm never letting you go. I'll never tolerate a competitor," he promised. "I'll let you perform your duties as Queen, but if you ever let anyone too close, I'll steal you away to my homeland, fucking your pretty body until you forget about this world altogether. I’ll make you my toy. You'll cum when I let you and beg me for my seed…and I will make you beg."

His threats were lost on you. Your thoughts were scattered, drowning in bliss as he filled you over and over again. Your pleasure was at his mercy. He could give it and take it away as he liked. Fortunately, at that moment, all he wanted to do was give.

His finger circled your clit, while he sucked on your nipples, pushing you closer and closer to your end.

"Beg me," he demanded. "Beg me to let you cum."

You would have agreed to anything.

"Please, please , Ruvain, please, don't stop," you wailed. "You feel so good. Please let me cum!"

He gave you a devious smile at you as his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Tell me you want me to fill you with my child," he demanded. "Tell me I'm the only one who gets to spend his seed in your womb."

Your eyes squeezed shut, hovering just on the tip of an explosion.

"Anything you want, Ruvain," you said. "I'll carry your child. I'll give my body to you; just please don't stop!"

He laughed, pleased that you were willing to be his, and doubled his efforts. His mouth crashed against yours, pulling your tongue into his mouth and stroking it. You felt pleasure in places you'd never felt before. Your lips and tongue were sparkling. Your breasts ached, brushing against his chest, your nipples hard points. And finally, your cunt felt like a vice on his cock, his thick shaft hitting every sensitive spot.

You detonated in his arms, the world dissolving, and your only conscious understanding was Ruvain's scent, touch, and delicious, overwhelming pleasure. Colors exploded behind your eyes, and your body felt like fireworks. Your muscles went completely limp as Ruvain emptied his cum inside you. There was so much, waves of hot fluid gushing from your cunt. You heard it splash against the stone floor far below you from somewhere far away.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he breathed in your ear. "The moment he stole you from your village, you were mine. You may take time to feel the same tenderness for me, but I'm happy to wait."

He carefully extracted you from the nest he'd made, orienting himself so he could tie you to his chest with more silk to rest.

In any other circumstance, you would been frightened being so far up, but you felt perfectly safe tied to Ruvain's body, and your thoughts quickly muddied as you fell asleep.

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bloatedandalone04 · 8 months

Text

Shadows Of Your Heart

➪the one where anakin makes it up to you after being distant during a mission.

Warnings: brief angst bc i have no self control, fluff, anakin being cold for a quick second, a bit of a confusing setting bc i couldn't think of good enough plot to start off with, my bad, more fluff bc i was asked nicely and i intend on delivering like i always do♡

Word Count: 1.6k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“I have to speak to Obi-Wan,” you say quickly as you pick up the device from off the floor. Anakin gives you a weary look as he steps towards you, blindly strapping his saber back onto his belt. “Anakin.”

He stands in front of you, as unimpressed as ever. “What?” He stubbornly asks when you give him a stern look.

“Don’t be so sharp with me. All of this could’ve been prevented,” you gesture to the bar patron who was currently lying face down on the floor of the pub.

“I find that hard to believe,” he muttered as he glared down at the man.

When he looked back at you, he took in your expression of annoyance that you poorly hid. “Anakin,” you warn again, ready to call it a night and head back with him. You were tired and the events that took place a few minutes prior had severely worn you out, and Anakin only made things harder when he couldn’t control his emotions and took it out on the patron.

“Y/n,” he said back and you just huffed, holding the device out to him.

“I need to speak to Obi-”

“Go speak to him,” he cut you off, taking the device from you with a surprisingly gentle pull, despite you physically being able to feel the anger radiate off his body. It was so like him; to be cold towards everyone else but caring towards you, even when he was not in a good mood at all. “You come find me when you’re done.”

He turned to you, giving you the opportunity to locate his mentor, but you didn’t want to leave things like this, especially when you and him would be sharing a bed later. “Anakin,” you called out to him, watching as he stopped walking and turned back towards you. “Everything is fine. We did good.”

“Yeah,” he answered shortly, glancing back down at the man who was groaning as his flesh burned and peeled away from his body. “Don’t worry about him, I’ll take the blame for all of it.”

He was being so closed off and sharp with you. It irked you and you wanted to stay and talk it out with him, hating having to leave things like this. “Don’t be like that,” you tried to talk him out of the angry stupor he was in, but you knew you didn’t have enough time to calm him down.

“I thought you needed to see Obi-Wan,” he gave you a cold look and you stepped away from him.

“I did, I do, but…” you trailed off, playing with the sleeves of your robe. “I want to talk to you, too, Anakin. I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

Anakin sighed and the crease in his brow softened. “I’m not upset,” he says quietly and you raise a brow at the obvious lie. “Not with you.” He corrects and you stare at him for a few seconds before nodding.

“Alright,” you murmur and reach your hand out to him, wanting to give him a proper goodbye, but he just moves away.

“I’ll see you soon,” was all he said and walked away, leaving you to watch as his form retreated until you could no longer see him.

It was a little while later when you returned to your room, exhaustion filling your every sense as the events of the day weighed down on you.

Anakin wasn’t back yet, but that was to be expected. Usually when he is as fired up as he was earlier, he stays out as late as he can in an attempt to cool his body and clear his mind before returning to you.

If he doesn’t walk off the anger, he ends up taking it out on you, and then he feels even worse when he sees the emotion he caused you to feel all over your face. You understood for the most part, but it still stung whenever he shut you out like he did earlier.

While you put in a decent effort, you still weren’t able to find him like he told you to once you were finished with Obi-Wan. He kept himself well hidden and out of sight, making you only able to go off of the emotional connection you had with the Jedi. You could feel that he was still angry even hours after the bar incident, so you decided to just go home and wait for him there.

You had just finished getting dressed for bed when the door opened and in walked your boyfriend, who looked so defeated. You refrained from taking him into your arms and instead waited for him to make the first move.

He does a few seconds after entering the bedroom. “Hi,”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “Hi,”

He moves further into the room and silently sets his lightsaber down onto the dresser before turning to you. He wore a look of guilt and a sheepish smile as he stepped towards you. “I’m sorry for how I left things before,” he says quietly, taking your hands in his and walking backwards towards the bed. You let him pull you to stand between his thighs once he sits down and continues, “I was out of line and frustrated and I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

His hands slip from yours and settle on your waist while you gently begin to massage his still tense shoulders. It was no secret that Anakin is a very passionate guy and cared a lot, but he was also stubborn and got worked up easily. The littlest things set him off on a bad day, but those days thankfully didn’t happen too often.

Anakin pouted slightly when you didn’t answer him, but he also knew you weren’t too angry with him as you hadn’t pulled away from him. He leaned into the softness of your hands, suddenly wishing he got home sooner so he could feel your gentle touch a lot earlier than right now.

“I should’ve stayed and talked things through with you when you wanted to,” he picked back up on his apology, his fingers bunching up the fabric of your gown. “I’m sorry, my love. I know you don’t appreciate it when I get like that.”

You just shake your head and slide your hands upwards so they are caressing either side of his face. Running your left thumb over his scar, you lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. “But I put up with it because I love you,”

He lifts his gaze to meet yours once you pulled away and mirrored your small grin.

“We’re a team, you and I,” you remind him and stroke your thumb across his cheek. “And, yes, I do like talking things through with you, but I also like giving you your space, Anakin. Whenever you need it, just tell me, but don’t push me away.”

Anakin raises his hands so his fingers are wrapped around your wrists, and he places a kiss on your palm. “I won’t,” he promises, placing your hand back on his face and leaning into your touch. “I won’t, I promise you. I’m sorry for acting so cold to you before.”

You shrug. “It was an intense mission,” you try to defend him.

But he wasn’t having it. “That doesn’t make it okay,” he pressed, his hands returning to your hips as he let out a sigh. “I don’t want you to make excuses for me or my actions, alright? Not when they resulted in me lashing out on you.”

“You didn’t really lash out on me, Anakin,” you insisted as you moved to sit next to him on the bed. “You just needed space.”

“I did,” he replied, pulling you towards him so your legs were draped over his. “But not anymore. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you away or that I don’t want you near me. I want you all the time, every day. I’m sorry if I made you believe otherwise.”

You grip his shoulders as you move even closer to him. “It’s okay, Anakin, really,” you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m not mad or upset. I just worry about you. You can let me in, you know. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

“I know,” he raises his glove covered hand and uses his thumb to pull at your lower lip. “I know, my sweet girl. I don’t deserve you.”

You open your mouth to protest but he quiets you with a chaste kiss.

“But I love you,” he said once he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours. “I don’t think I could ever stop loving you.”

Grinning, you move further onto the bed and pull him with you, not caring that he was still in the clothing he wore during the mission as you tugged him to lay down next to you. “I’ll never stop loving you,” you trace his scar with your index finger as he wraps his arms around you. “And I promise you that, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded once before pressing his lips to yours in a much more passionate kiss than before. He sighed into the kiss when he felt you relax in his arms, and he knew that someday soon he would not be able to hold off on asking you to marry him any longer.

The thought both terrified and excited him, but he knew he’d be okay in the end because he had you.

And, like you had proven and promised, you had him as well.

bloatedandalone04 actually wrote fluff for once?!

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savannahsdeath · 9 months

Note

Hi <33 I love love love your writing and I really want your take on what fucking santa barbara!Ellie would be like if your up to it 🫶🫶

first of all THANK YOU💗💗 and yes ofc i tried my best !!

SANTA BARBARA!ELLIE X READER HEADCANONS + EXAMPLE ONESHOT

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! smut

writers note: its not like my typical hcs because this ones more like umm with plot?? idk how to say this but i hope ykwim😓ENJOY!!

🌿 she's definitely rough like im sure 100%

🌿 she would degrade you but she also praises you from time to time

🌿 now, hear me out, she doesnt have her usual smirk. like someeetimessss but mostly she looks so stern and focused youre literally scared to make a sound

🌿 she definitely doesnt care about making a mess. shed be sooo sloppy istg!!!!

🌿 she also doesnt care about whatever youre saying. she barely listens. everytime you hit her with a 'stop/too fast' she either completely ignores you or replies with some 'huh? what did you say?' and shed go even faster..

🌿 she def uses strap but also loves just using her fingers. she just wants to feel it ykwimmm

heres an example story(lets skip the plot)

its not really what i meant but whatever😓

You couldn't stop yourself from moaning, what seemed like an invitation for Ellie to shush you by pressing her lips to yours. It silenced you, but not stopped, as your inaudible groans were now caught in Ellie's throat.

You were unable to move, pressed against the wall, so she didnt need to hold you. With her free hands she started undressing you both, knowing you wont be able to do so by yourself. She didn't break the kiss though, only stopping for a second when she had to pull your shirt over your head and didn't have access to your face. She continued right after.

You're not sure when did you moved to the bed, but here you were, laying down beneath her.

She kissed your neck, leaving wet spots on it. She was moving down your body, as you played with her hair, shutting your eyes closed.

Not long after that, a few more of your body parts were red from her nibbling - inner thighs mostly.

Even though she took her time, it didn't take too long. She knew youre impatient and wasn't in mood to mess with you, not yet, not like that.

Soon after, she buried her face between your legs, planting the same messy kisses all over there.

Her hands were holding onto your thighs, preventing them from clenching. You knew her grip will leave bruises, painful ones too, but you didnt care.

Ellie's tongue was definitely doing a good job, playing with your clit, slidding in and out of your entrance.

Her fingers didn't loose up but her thumbs started gently tracing circles on your skin, which definitely made it seem less aggressive.

When she was finished with her mouth, one of her hands took the initiative. She was rubbing two of her fingers for a few short moments, before pushing them in.

You were finally able to see her face - her expression. She looked at you firmly, like one bad move could get you killed.

You were whining and whimpering, desperately begging her to slow down.

"Sh, shhh... Just take what youre given, will you?" The corners of her mouth moved slightly upwards, creating a little smile.

You nodded but continued squirming, your thighs trembling, breath shaking...

"Oh, dont be so dramatic. Youre doing good, you'll handle it, trust me." She reassuringly patted your side. "People survived worse things."

Did that help? Well...

But you knew its the best she can do when it comes to being nice. You couldnt blame her, not after you found out about her past. She killed more people than you ever talked with, after all..

Your mind went blank and you couldnt think of anything to say, so you kept mumbling the two words you always do - 'Ellie' and 'please'. At this point, it seems your mouth remembered how to say these. Your tongue knew exactly what to do to make them come out of your mouth, while it was struggling with any other word.

But it was enough for her to know what you want to say.

When youre finally done (she can tell youre close by the way you scream her name, so she knows when to go faster), she cleans you up with her toned expression.

"See? You'll live, atta fucking girl."

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cassiopeiasdaughter · 8 months

Note

To not leave Draco Malfoy out of this celebration, maybe an angsty fic with the prompt “Don’t leave me”?

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

A/N:I've always wanted to write something in this format, thank you for the inspiration and the request 🤍 Draco Malfoy masterlist & celebrate my academic hardships

Warning: mentions of war and everything related to it

The five times Draco Malfoy needed you away from him and the one he was desperate to keep you close.

First Year; you found him with Hermione, you were both looking for Nevilles toad, asking around the students if they’d seen one.

He gave you a snobby look ,as you entered the room he was in, taking in your form. After introducing himself to you two and learning you were both Muggleborn he said “Leave us, we haven’t seen a toad.”, snickering with his friends- and driving you mad with the need to hex his pointy face out of the window.

Third Year; your interactions as the years went on, had gone from a quick sneer at the hallways, to insults and yelling after quidditch practice- and especially games- specifically the ones where he lost.

That wouldn’t happen that day, though, because Draco was determined to win. He had been practicing for this game for weeks, exhausting himself in the quidditch field.

The image of him rubbing it in your annoying face that he had won and you had lost, was the only motivation he needed.

He was confident, so confident that before the game he walked up to you, way too cocky and said “Good day to lose, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know Malfoy, you tell me.”,you replied smirking

This was usual for you, teasing and taunting before matches. That, turned into a silent challenge between you two.

Who could fly the fastest? Who could impress the crowd more? You fueled eachother; your relationship was an endless competition.

And secretly you both loved it.

In the midst of the game, he found you alone looking over the field, deeply focused on the game.

He doesn’t understand what frivolous thought resulted in him flying up to you; just for a few seconds, he said to himself.

“Go away, Malfoy, I am trying to focus.”

“Save yourself some trouble, maybe relax your forehead before you get wrinkles, and accept your defeat.”, he said with a smug face

“Stop buzzing around me like a fly, go spin around some more over there, will you?”, you said clearly annoyed and he laughed at that.

Before he could get the chance to reply, he noticed a strange movement behind you. He wrinked his eyes, trying to get a better look and realized it was a bludger coming straight to you- and you the complete idiot you were, were staring at the opposite direction.

He supposes there are many other things he could have done that day. He could just warn you, scream at you even. He could fly away and mind his business- focus on winning the game.

But if the bludger hit you, who would he make fun of, then?

That, and only that, is why, he flew infront of you, with the bludger hitting him in the ribs- causing him to fall several feet to the ground.

As he laid in complete darkness, with a piercing pain in his chest, he thought he heard screaming and then your voice; you were okay, he could rest now.

He woke up to the sound of whispers, and pages turning. The room smelled of clean sheets and he felt cold. He shivered and opened his eyes groaning.

“Sleeping beauty is awake.”, he heard Blaise and before he could open his mouth, he felt Pansy rush to his side, grabbing his hand.

“Are you completely mad?”, she asked furious “What were you thinking, you-”

“Let him be, Pans, you can scold him once he is out of here.”, Theo interrupted her “How are you feeling mate?”

“M’fine, I feel stiff- and thirsty.”, Draco replied slowly, batting his eyes- preventing them from closing again.

His three friends looked at eachother, as if speaking silently, plotting together-specifically something only he wasn’t supposed to know..

“What?” He asked annoyed “We lost. Is the team mad? Just say it.”, he said between groans- moving his body to stand a little straighter- look stronger.

“Uhhh-”, muttered Theo

“We’ll get you some water.”, interrupted Blaise

“The three of you? Where are you getting it from exactly, the Lake?”, he replied annoyed at his friends- and himself for getting himself into this mess.

Pansy groaned impatiently and rolled her eyes at him “You have a visitor, see you later.”

With that, she walked out of the room- followed by Blaise and Theo, both smiling at him, the first mischievously and the latter sympathetically- holding his book in his arms.

He groaned then and threw his head back- staring into the empty ceiling, that looked as depressing, as his actions. Honestly, what was he thinking? He blew everything up, wasted so many hours of work and practice; in just one single second-

“Hi.”, he heard your voice, soft and gentle. He couldn’t recall, the last time you looked at him, without a sneer or a scowl. With your mouth relaxed and your eyes gentle.

“No need to gloat, I am not in the mood, right now.” You scoff at that, “I came here to thank you, you impossible twat.”

He smirks, at your words, and how natural it feels to hear them from your mouth. He gives you a knowing look; slightly amused.

“Sorry.”, you mumble

“Thank you for what you did there.”, you said and sat at the bed, next to his body, your hands almost touching.

“Uh- it’s not like I could have gone anywhere else.”

“You could have stayed still, it would have hit me, not you.”

“And you’d have fallen on me, we’d both end up here. Honestly, I did it to save myself from your voice, annoying me even here. It’s more peaceful this way.”

“Oh, Malfoy, shut up.”, you said trying not to look amused “We both know Pomfrey can’t stand your whining, I heard she’s considering resigning.”, you continued, fake whispering with a face that makes him laugh even now, remembering it.

He sees his friends enter, and quickly snaps back to reality. You are his competitor, the person he wants to show off to- they are his friends, the ones who want to see him do well, they care about him- not you.

And he cares about them, certainly not about you.

“You’re giving me a headache, go away, please.”, he said and noticed how your eyes saddened slowly.

Your face returned to its usual look, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly turned and hands crossed in front of you.

“Ah- right, bye.”

And with that you left, leaving him with his best friends, who loved him and protected him from everything harmful.

But then again, why couldn’t he stop the throbbing in his head, every time he thought, of you leaving?

Fourth Year; he was perfect. His robes looked great on him, he knew the dances well- after all the training he had had through the years- and he’d gone with Pansy, who he trusted.

Then, why couldn’t he have fun?

It was your presence surely- it drove him mad. You were dancing around with your friends- missing steps and then laughing at yourself. You were clumsy and graceless and laughed with your mouth open.

All the manners he had learnt to obey, were nowhere to be found when it came to you.

But then, why couldn’t he take his eyes off of you?

“Excuse me for a moment, Pans.”, his mouth muttered despite his protests not to

His feet carried him to you, he begged them to stop- turn around and insult Potter or the Weasel, don’t go to her, not her. But they had a mind of their own and he cursed as he bumped into you.

You turned around and stared at him with a surprised look on your face “Malfoy.” ,you said confused and scanned his body with your eyes, your gaze lingering at his face before lightly shaking your head “Something wrong with your eyes?”

He didn’t answer though, not as he was taking in your form; your dress and how its color complimented you perfectly. Your hair loose, with strands falling across your face like a waterfall.

Your skin glowing as the colored light fell on it; making you look like you didn’t belong in this world, but in the fairytales he would read as a child.

He couldn’t breathe, maybe you’d thrown something in his drink- you’d love to ridicule him at the Ball, the whole school would talk about it- then again, maybe these thoughts had always been there, found shelter in a dark place in his mind he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Draco, are you alright?”, your voice worried then and his name falling from your lips felt like a spell shot directly at his chest.

“Ah-”, the sound of music cut him off and the image of his classmates pairing up and dancing, drove him to eventually ask “Dance with me?”

And the moment you said yes and held his hands; a fire inside him started. It warmed parts of his soul that had never seen the sun, they were cold and dying, but your light healed them.

Your moves were seamless and your hold was gentle. You let him guide you, with trust he secretly wished could last.

You could not help but giggle as he swirled you two around and the sound of your voice was contagious, the smile on your lips something he wanted to memorize.

As the dance progressed you two moved closer; his hand was holding you tighter and your eyes were curious, as if you yearned for more.

And as your face tipped forward and your lips parted slowly- he felt a strange and unwanted force dragging him back to reality.

To his reality, the one filled with your differences and his friends and family. The reality that wasn’t the fairytale you two belonged in.

He pulled back, causing you to lose your balance slightly and almost fall on him. You looked betrayed and embarrassed, like a wounded animal showing trust, begging for help only to receive the opposite.

He didn’t say anything to you, as he exited the big room, and he didn’t acknowledge his friends who looked at him with a puzzled face. The only thing on his mind was how much he needed to get away from you.

Sixth year; the room was spinning. There were bandages all over his body and a sharp pain on his limbs. It was incredible how he had managed to end up in the infirmary again.

He remembered Potters face, filled with hatred and betrayal as he cast the unforgivable, directly at him. It brought him shame, how not even Potter could believe he would join the Death Eaters, it was low even for him.

He felt shame and fear, It’s not my fault he wanted to scream, I didn’t choose this, he needed to let everyone know- but he was too scared of everything that would follow.

Myrtles screams and cries were ringing in his ears “Please stop”, he whispered with his eyes closed- tears falling down his cheeks.

“Stop what?”, he heard your voice ask, hoarse as if you were crying and he cursed himself then.

His mind played cruel tricks on him. Not only did he see you in his dreams every night but now he could also hear you in his wake. He couldn’t protect you in his dreams; the Dark Lord used you against him- made him do things that he wouldn’t even imagine prior to this summer.

And after doing everything the Dark Lord asked of him, he would see you die in front of him.

His cries grew stronger, but a hand strongly closing on his stopped him. He tried to open his eyes and turn his head, “Does it hurt? Do you want me to call Pomfrey?”, you asked scared with swollen eyes and dark circles under them.

“No.” He whispered quietly and felt your grip on his hand and your thumb tracing the skin there.

Your eyes landed on the inside of his sleeve, where the Dark Mark still lies and you looked at him with sorrow in your eyes. “I am sorry.”, you said and let tears fall.

He wishes he could have been strong and push them away, but more than that he wishes he would had prevented them in the first place.

However, you were neither his lover or his friend, so he had no place wishing any of the two.

“What are you doing here?”, he turned his head- staring at the cold empty ceiling, once again.

“I heard what happened, Draco-”, you stopped, didn’t know how to continued- what to say.

“Why are you here?” , his voice was angry now “I don’t need your pity, after all those years, how can you still not understand that? You are supposed to hate me.”

“Well I don’t. I-”, care about you, you almost confessed- but he couldn’t let you.

“Leave! Leave me alone.”, he said closing his eyes and forcefully removing his hand from your grasp.

And, sadly you did. But not for long.

You returned that same night, with books and notes in your arms and a look of determination on your face.

You placed everything on his nightstand and sat at the same place as earlier.

“You have missed too many classes, you need to catch up. Come on.”

He stared at you confused and tired, so so tired of handling everything by himself, of protecting his family and everyone he loved. And he was so tired from convincing himself that lowering his walls and letting you in would result in his distraction.

Because at that moment, the only thing that had managed to offer him relief from the ache in his chest was you.

“I am sorry.”, he said ashamed.

“It is fine.” You replied sincerely and then shook your head lightly “Charms, page 431, chapter 18.”

It shouldn’t have been this easy for him to fall in love with you. You helped him with schoolwork and then with adjusting to normality again. You teased him, like before, but the look on your face now and the gleam of your eyes were completely different.

You would talk outside of class and quidditch practice. He would often meet you, to study together and talk about your days.

And the most important, at night, after proving his loyalty to the darkness he was forced into, he’d run to you. You would remain silent, on top of the astronomy tower, thinking about the future and the past; of all the actions and choices that led him up there, with you.

“I am sorry.”, he said one night, turning his head to look at you

“What for?” ,you asked back

“I don’t know, for being a jerk? For treating you terribly?”, he let out a deep sigh before continuing “For everything I guess.”

“We both treated echother shitty. We are fine now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I suppose we are.”

“Just.” You started “Be careful, with them, I know you say you have everything under control, but be careful.”

“Why- why do you care? You shouldn’t care.”, he said amused and annoyed by how you would open your heart for anyone to find shelter in, even him.

“Because I want to, that’s is why.”, you held his hand and turned your head to look at the stars in contrast to the night sky- lighting up the darkness.

June 30th 1997;he wished he hadn’t grown closer to you, that day. Dumbledore was dead, and the Death Eaters were coming, the castle was in danger and there was nothing he could do about it.

As he ran down the halls, begging his mind to focus and not panic at the madness around him, he kept wishing you were safe.

He found you, looking around scared- terrified. And as your gazes locked you ran into eachother.

“Go away! Leave!”, he said, but despite his words, his hold on you grew stronger.

“What about you, I can’t leave you.”, you shouted back

And he knew you meant that, but he couldn’t come with you, couldn’t put you in any more danger; that was his excuse for what he did next.

His hand moved to your face and he grabbed you; smashing your lips on his. You kiss was filled with longing and years filled of your pushing and pulling. Your dance around eachother.

It was filled with his gratitude for you, for being the safety he longed for, while nothing in his life was safe or stable. He kissed you for being his friend, when he had to distance himself from his- to protect them.

But, he also kissed you, because if he were to die in the moments to follow, the selfish- twisted parts of him wanted to at least have known how you tasted, how your lips felts against his, and how your body would mould against his.

You parted, your lungs aching for oxygen and he said again, in a gentler voice “Leave.”

And you did.

May 2nd 1998; he is tired. He doesn’t know how long he has been running for, screaming; your name the only sound falling from his lips.

His vision is blurry from the dust, the building around him slowly collapsing; his home for the past seven years will soon be nothing but a ruin.

And the thought of you buried under it, stops his breathing as he picks up the pace and runs faster.

“Draco?”, he hears his name being called, the voice entirely familiar.

He turns around and sees you, with your hands around your waist and ashes all over your face.

He doesn’t have to think twice to sprint to you, not caring who he bumps into or if a spell hits him right there in the chest- not if it means that the last thing he'll see is you, alive.

He crushes you in his arms and breathes in deep, your scent hovering over him and his hands around you, shielding you from the battle.

He wishes you two could stay like this forever, he should apparate you both somewhere far away from this hell, somewhere where he could protect you, keep you safe, and show you how much you mean to him, how much he lov-

The voice you let out, filled with pain and regret crushes all his dreams and he pulls back in an instant.

“Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?” He instructs and uncrosses your arms from your body, to reveal blood all over your clothes.

You give him a tired look and his scared eyes beg you to stay close to him, but your body is weak and you fall to the floor taking him with you.

He lifts your shirt carefully and gasps when he sees your wound, bloody and open, your body emptying, losing blood dangerously fast.

“It’s okay.”, you whisper “It is going to be okay.” You smile weakly

“No, no, no.”, he repeats unable to accept what’s happening.

His hands are stained with your blood, leaving your face crimson-red and sticky as he cradles it for dear life- as if his hold on you will keep you alive.

“Don’t leave me.”, he begs “Please.”,and he leans in your hand, caressing his cheek lovingly, as he cries.

Only when your touch loosens and your hand slips to the floor does he stop to let out a haunting scream.

I love you, he meant to say, “I love you.”, he says now, wishing you could hear it.

sorry for any mistakes; comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated 🩶

#draco malfoy x reader #Draco being an angsty teen #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x female reader

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thesherrinfordfacility · 10 months

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Source

Transcript of main article under the cut:

THE RASCALLY DEMON Crowley (David Tennant) and the neurotic angel Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) put aside their differences to pull off one doozy of a Hail Mary and prevent an impending Apocalypse in Good Omens' first season. The task cemented the pair's unconventional friendship. So what are divine beings who have fallen out of grace with both Heaven and Hell to do for an encore?

The answer lies with archangel Gabriel (Jon Hamm), who shows up unannounced on the doorstep of Aziraphale's London bookshop. Suddenly, Aziraphale and Crowley are caught up in a caper of biblical proportions- but also a more intimate tale.

"It's a mystery" showrunner Neil Gaiman tells SFX. "It kicks off a story that doesn't have giant consequences for the universe, even if it does have consequences for Aziraphale and Crowley. We have a lot of the marvellous Jon Hamm, who is the angel Gabriel and turns up at the beginning stark naked, carrying a cardboard box with no memory of who he is. In the same way, it is about Aziraphale and Crowley having to get involved with humanity in a way that they haven't before.

"They get dragged in slightly against their will to try to sort out the love life of Aziraphale's tenant," he continues. "Her name is Maggie (Maggie Service) and she runs the

record shop next to the bookshop. You'll see the coffee shop over the road, which is Nina's (Nina Sosanya). The relationship between Maggie and Nina is one that Crowley and Aziraphale try to fix, and mess up, because they are not good at human relationships, even if they can do miracles."

Truth be told, Gaiman never originally intended this arc to serve as Good Omens' second instalment. The TV series was based on Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's 1990 novel. The two collaborators had partially hashed out the details for a sequel to the fantasy comedy, late one night in a hotel room. This, however, is not it. Gaiman instead plotted a new narrative that could provide the connective tissue between the first season and a theoretical season three, if it happens.

"Because the hypothetical season three exists, there is a story that is there, and I didn't feel that we could drive straight from season one into that," Gaiman explains. "I knew what the stakes were. I knew what the parameters were. I also know that I had David and Michael. I had the angels from plot number one. I had demons from plot number one. And with anybody that I wanted to bring back, but didn't have room for right now, I did not have to bring them back as themselves.

"I had absolutely nothing for Madame Tracy to do in this plot, but I would be damned if Miranda Richardson wasn't going to be in this. She is one of my favourite people in the world. She is hilarious and is so good. And I knew I was going to have a new demon replacing Crowley as Hell's representative in London/the UK. Miranda's demon Shax is the best demon you could want."

It's late February 2012 and SFX is in Edinburgh for a set visit. A soundstage in Pyramids Studies has been transformed into a street in Soho. The visible local stores include the aforementioned book, coffee and record shops, as well as a magic establishment. In the middle of them all stand Aziraphale and Crowley, the latter in close proximity to his classic Bentley. It's close to the end of the six-episode season, so exactly what the duo is discussing constitutes a spoiler. We can say, however, that Aziraphale has picked up the pace. Time is of the essence as Shax marshals her forces to descend on Aziraphale's store and retrieve Gabriel.

"This is really Shax's first time out on Earth," Gaiman explains. "She is working very diligently and very hard in Hell for a long time. Now she is on Earth, trying to figure it all out. She's just discovering what Crowley has known for 6,000 years, which is that if you're a demon and come up with a brilliant plan to screw up the lives of humanity, people will get there first and do worse than anything you could have imagined! She's coming to terms with that.

"She is having to deal with the first crisis on her watch, as well, which is the disappearance of the archangel Gabriel from Heaven. It would be fair to say that by the end of the story, she is leading as much as she can get from Hell's requisition department - a legion of Hell - in an attack on a Soho bookshop."

When audiences catch up with Aziraphale again, he's enjoying his time among humans. He owns most of the block in a Soho neighbourhood, and he's meddling in Nina's love life. Meanwhile, Crowley has been living in his car, with his plants sitting on the back seat. He's grumpy about his current status quo, but frequently hangs out at Aziraphale's. The duo began as antagonists, but their history and blooming relationship will be fleshed out in flashbacks.

"One of the enormously fun things I came up with in the idea of minisodes," Gaiman explains. They are 25-minute-long episodes within the episode. We have three of them over our six episodes. Each of them is like one of those chunks of episode three (in season one). Whereas the longest one of those was four or five minutes, if that, these are full stories.

"You get to have the story of (put-upon Biblical figure) Job and you learn Aziraphale and Crowley's part in the story. Then writer Cat Clarke takes us to Edinburgh in the 1820s for a tale of body-snatching and attempted murder that the boys get involved in," he adds.

"Finally, Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman reunite the League of Gentlemen in a Nazi-period story that takes place very shortly after the episode in the church. That one was the only one I said had to be there, because I fell in love with our Nazi spies in the church I kept thinking, "What would happen if they essentially came back as zombies with a mission from Hell to try and investigate whether or not Crowley and Aziraphale were actually fraternising?"

Gaiman admits that one of the greatest challenges has been filming Good Omens simultaneously with his upcoming show Anansi Bays. The two shoot within throwing distance of each other, but are both time-consuming endeavours.

"If I could go back in time, I would go back to 16 September 2020, when Douglas Mackinnon (co-producer) and I got the phone call from the Amazon bigwigs to say, "We have

good news for you and interesting news for you," Gaiman recalls. "'The good news is we are greenlighting both Good Omens and Anansi Boys. The interesting news is you are going to have to do them both at the same time.'

"I would go back to then and I would throw myself on the call and say, 'Neil, don't! This is unwise.' That we are doing them both together is great. The amount of sleep I am not getting is monumental and monstrous.

"It's a little bit like childbirth, in that I managed to forget all the things that drove me nuts about the first one. Having said that, I managed to fix all the things that really drove me nuts making season one which is great. We just have a whole new set of problems making season two."

#good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season two #not a shitpost but its good omens babyyyy #SIGH does this mean i need to edit my 40s meta AGAIN? im tiRED OF THIS GRANDPA #edit: missing page

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muzansfangs · 5 months

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You always wanted me.

Starring: Rengoku Kyojuro x f!reader; mention to past relationship with Sanemi;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, vaginal sex, creampie, unprotected sex, language, use of alcohol, drunkness, drunk sex but consensual, breeding kink, semi-public sex, mention to past relationship with Sanemi, cheating thought in past relationship;

Plot: A night in a pub and a failed date led you to drink away your sorrow. Unfortunately, the main reason behind your problems shows up and your tipsy state does not help you to keep your tongue tied. Too many shots of tequila, the man you have always wanted so ardently and a restroom were the ingredients required to make your heart burn that very night.

Author note: it is rare for me to put the author note on top of a one-shot, but in order to prevent possible drama to happen, I needed to clarify a thing: this fic is an old work of mine posted on my old Ao3 account and my old Wattpad profile. While I cannot log anymore into Ao3 for some reason, I can still log into my old Wattpad profile and I will try to gradually delete my old works as I fix and rewrite them! Do not worry and enjoy this little scrap!

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Another one!” you slurred, slamming the empty glass on the counter before you. It was your fourth shot. You were not used to drink that much, especially in a public place. The thing was you definitely had a good reason to drink down almost a whole bottle of tequila alone. You had just been stood up by a guy you had asked out to forget about your crush.

Your real crush. Or in other terms, the reason behind the loop of failed dates you had fallen into because he was so unapproachable. You wished you could forget about him, but nothing and no one could ever take his place in your heart. Why did he have to he that kind of guy that literally ruin your rationality and the chance to enjoy the company and the small attentions other men could provide you?

Disheartened, you sighed and propped your elbows on the counter in annoyace, waiting for the barman to fill your glass once again. No matter how hard to tried to ignore him, you always found yourself back at daydreaming about his piercing orange and red eyes.

Why could you not forget about him and his dazzling smile?

Whenever someone else had a chance to pick your interest and finally make you move on, something methodically went wrong. Maybe you had been jinxed.

A small smile curved your lips, when the guy in front of you carefully slided the drink in your direction. As soon as the smile appeared, it dropped, though. Someone hastily grabbed your glass and elegantly brought it to his lips, preventing you from enjoying your feast. How dare him steal your drink in such a dreadful night?

You were about to throw a punch at that rude man, but when your head snapped towards him you gaped in shock. Blinking skeptically, you gawked and your mind went blank for several seconds. That must have been a joke.

“What the Hell?” you babbled out, rolling your eyes in despair. If bad luck had a name, it would have definitely been yours. Those combined phenomena were indeed persuading you to believe some witch had cursed you for real.

“Fancy meeting you here, Y/N! Mind if I join you? You seem pretty upset. What's happened?” Kyojuro casually asked, sitting right next to you.

“You happened! - you asserted, darting your eyes on the barman - Another one, please” you asked, or better pleaded him, folding your arms over your chest.

Now you truly were irritated. Not only he pestered your mind day and night, but he also had the audacity of stealing your drinks and clubbing in your favorite place.

The blonde man chuckled and shook his head at you “Come on, don't hold a grudge. I have actually done it on purpose. I have to confess that I have been watching you for a while now. I don't think you should drink that much, you know?” he said softly, his eyes trailing up to your face. For a second, he seemed genuinely concerned.

Kyojuro Rengoku had always had a crush on you. He would have asked you out, if Sanemi had not messed up his plans by fooling around with you. After your break-up, he had noticed some changes in your behavior. You seemed not to care about anyone anymore. It was like you were running away from feelings and Kyojuro could not stand the rumors of you sleeping around with tons of strangers to possibly fill a void in your heart. It hurt him.

He was meant for loving you, not those bottom-dwellers you occasionally spent your nights with.

“So you're a watcher now! How cute! I don't need a babysitter, I can take care of myself” you blurted out, squinting your eyes and trying your best to act cool.

Unfortunately, your body had had enough. Your vision was getting blurry. You hated to admit it, but you were actually glad he was there to watch over you, even if you wanted to rip his face to shreds.

But just like your body, your mind began to wander in the very places you were trying to keep it awat from.

You glanced at him, your heart sinking into your chest at the sight your eyes had been blessed with. Kyojuro, drink in hand, was moistening his lower lip with his tongue. He seemed to be mulling something over. Maybe, he was just offended by your arrogance, or maybe he had a date and he was regretting having approached you.

Actually, you did not care. Happy, sad, angry or thoughtful it was Kyojuro. It was him, the only one your heart desired.

Oh, the things you wanted him to do with his tongue.

It was not a good time for fantasizing, though. You clenched your jaw, reaching your hand out to grab your glass, but you lost your grip on it and the shot slipped from your hand. The liquor inevitably spilled on Kyojuro's white shirt, making him stand up in shock. You wanted to apologize, your mouth was already opened, but you gawked when you spotted the outline of his toned, chiseled chest underneath the material of his shirt.

“Uhm... I— Kyo, I'm sorry! Let me help you” you stuttered, searching for a tissue in your purse. How stupid of you.

He was soaked, how could a tissue solve his problem or make it better?

You groaned in frustration, frenetically rummaging through your bag when Kyojuro's voice stopped you.

“Wait, it's okay, really! Let's go to the restroom. The dryer might help me” he reasoned, suddenly encircling your waist and pulling you towards him. Was it real? You blushed and tried to distance yourself from him, but the only reaction you got in return, was being held even tighter.

You frowned and shot him an interrogative glance, which was returned by a bright smile “Hey, you know, I can walk without you leading me around like a toddler” you pinpointed, rolling your eyes in feigned contempt. How could you deny you loved the feeling of being in such a close proximity with him?

Kyojuro, on the other hand, sighed and pushed the door of the restroom opened to let you in first “If you were fine, we would have not had a problem now. Why do you always have to be a bitch, anyway?” he asked you, undoing the first buttons of his shirt right away.

Not even firing something back, you froze solid and turned your face to the opposite side of the room, trying to ignore the urge to contemplate the celestial vision dazzling you in the restroom of a pub. You were not capable of saying a word. Your brain was fuming.

'What the fuck, Kyojuro?! Can't you just leave?' you thought, rubbing your temples to ease the pressure a tad bit.

“I’m talking to you. Look at me” he said then. You felt his gaze boring holes on the back of your head, but you knew that facing him meant losing your self-control.

“You know, I am fine staring at the wall. Don't you—…”you tried to talk back, but Kyojuro forcefully spun you around. He was done with you and the childish attitude of your drunk self.

Your hair whipped your cheeks, as you found yourself lost into a pair of orange and red orbs scrutinizing your face. Well, that was your end.

Your lips parted and you gulped nervously at the sight before your eyes. A shirtless Kyojuro was holding both your wrists in his huge hands, your eyes travelling down his toned chest and abs. Could it be even worse? Yes, it actually could.

“I'm still waiting for an answer” he stated, arching a thick eyebrow up.

You cleared your throat and shook your head “I'm not going to give you one” you murmured. Was it really that hard to understand that your behavior was your only defense against your love for him?

After all, you had screwed up your long-lasting relationship for him.

Kyojuro stared at you for a few seconds, then he swiftly pushed your back against the wall. Your hands were easily pinned up above your head, as he towered over you in a iron grip. The message was crystal clear. He did not want you to move.

You were stunned in silence, your breath hitched, as his face was now dangerously close to your mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you breathed out, your voice betraying you. You liked this physical contact way too much to keep on fronting.

The blonde man in front of you cracked a smile “I'm trying to solve the problem once and for all. I know why you and Sanemi broke up. — he started — He told me you screamed my name, as you climaxed around him”.

He knew.

You blushed and gawked at his words. He had just thrown facts at your face. You had been exposed. Was it really necessary denying the truth any longer? No, it was not. What about your sense of shame? It was long gone, after the amount of alcohol you had gulped down. You were not even mad at Sanemi for having blabbed out your little secret. This was just above you.

You glared at Kyojuro, tilting your head to the side to contemplate his face properly. He was handsome as Hell. You wanted him and you wanted him now. You had always wanted him.

“Well then, I guess the comedy is over. I should be thankful to Sanemi for having exposed me like that. I finally can get what I wanted from the very beginning” you said, before hungrily smashing your lips against his ones.

It took a moment for him to realize what you were doing, and maybe you were pretty shocked too by your boldness, but once your taste indulged on his tongue he gained courage and kissed you back.

Your tongues danced together, soft moans left your mouth, when Kyojuro inevitably began to lead the way.

You felt like you were on a burning ship, without any lifeboat you could jump in to escape your fate. Still, you did not fight for your life. You were happily embracing your destiny. You had chosen it yourself. You had broken the curse affecting you for years.

When his lips left yours, your breath was uneven but your eyes sparkled with a savage lust he could not ignore and it was enough for him to unbuckle his belt and slip his calloused hand underneath your dress.

Words were superfluous, you both needed your release. Your hunger was fuel to his burning desire. Kyojuro was usually the calm and collected guy everybody got along with. Getting to see what laid underneath that cheerful and respectful façade was sending you straight to cloud nine.

The moment his fingers made their way beneath your panties and reached your slit, he sighed and began to stroke your bundle of nerves in circluar motions “We won't need much foreplay. You are so damn wet” he whispered, drawing invisible circles on your clitoris.

You were breathless. Whimpers and whines erupted from your throat as you bucked your hips against his hand. You were such a mess he envied Sanemi for having got you before he did.

“Please, please, Kyojuro, I need you... Don't waste time” you breathed out, grinding your hips against his hand.

Hearing those words falling from your lips, the blonde man shoved two fingers into your core and slowly pumped them in and out of your entrance. You loved how dominant he was, you loved the way he seemed to ignore you and your needs. Everything he did was magic.

“Gosh, you're such an impatient brat” he joked, watching your mouth resembling the shape of an o. Sinful moans erupted from your throat and you digged your nails onto his shoulders not to collapse onto the floor. You were close and he knew it. He could feel it by the way your walls squeezed his fingers, almost sucking them in. Therefore, he hastily pulled them out of you, much to your dismay.

You whined for the sudden emptiness you were experiencing and your eyes locked with his one in a pleading glance. Kyojuro unzipped his pants and pulled them down enough to allow his member to spring out of his boxers.

You blushed, as his hand found its way to your dripping core again. He easily pushed your panties aside and hooked your right leg up on his hip for a better access.

You could feel his hot breath fanning your lips and his bulge pressing against your entrance, collecting your juices as a lube.

“Are you okay? Can I go ahead?” he asked, kissing you gently then.

You nodded and cupped his cheek in your hand, pressing your forehead against his one “Drunk or not, I love you” you whispered, confessing your feelings after years of fears and tears.

Kyojuro held you close to him and finally entered you, earning a loud moan of pleasure from you. He waited for you to adjust to his size, a strained moan rumbling from deep in his chest as he pushed himself into you slowly, inch after inch. Gasping and moaning softly, you felt your walls adapting to him and once he was buried deep into you, Kyojuro gently pulled out a bit. He started pounding into you slowly but passionately, filling you in places no one had ever reached before.

You screamed his name, not worrying about being in a public place and Kyojuro muffled your moans with his tongue anyway.

“Tell me how badly you wished it was me and not him back in time. Tell me. Tell me how many times you wanted to fuck me on your shared bed” he stated, slamming into you a little faster now.

You moaned his name, your legs shaking as you lolled your head back in ecstasy “Countless times” you said, as he gripped your face by your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“I'm not pulling out, you know that?” he rasped, hitting the perfect spot inside you as your eyes locked.

It was the perfect ending, something long overdue. You kissed him enjoying every minute of it until the very end. You came with a loud moan, he following right after you. You felt his seed filling you up to you cervix, as he peppered your face in small, affectionate kisses. He was perfect, this was perfect.

“You're coming home with me tonight” he breathed out, caressing your cheekbones before pulling out of you.

You were finally his.

AUHTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Welcome to ‘AUTHOR NOTE PART TWO’, lmao. I intended to post this yesterday but I really fell asleep after dinner on the couch. I only woke up when my boyfriend came back home and his dog began to run and bark to tell me he was opening the door. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one! I love Kyo with a passion and I wanted to show him some love too!

As per usual, likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreacited!

TAGS: @doumadono @electronicwitchcollection @mrskokushibo

#rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x you #kyojuro x reader #rengoku smut #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #kyojuro x y/n #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer smut #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer x reader

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actual-changeling · 4 months

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I have written many meta posts and s3-theories, and read even more, but I got hit by an idea I have not seen before. (If there is another post, please link it!)

After vibrating for an hour and losing my mind in my dms, I have no scraped together enough brain cells to present what is probably my first actual 'main-plot meta'.

Welcome to another edition of Alex's unhinged meta corner, today with a title to honour Crowley's James Bond obsession and the possibility of another heaven heist.

I give you:

From Jesus with Love - You Will Live Twice

Now, let's get right into it.

I think Neil might have told us more about the main s3 plotline in the announcement article than we previously thought. We all got stuck on 'they're not talking'—for good reason—but it is the part before that which has been bugging me ever since then.

The plans are going wrong—and this time that is a problem for earth and humanity. Turning that around, it means that whatever that plan consists of would be the way to go and beneficial for everyone, the opposite of the main plot of s1.

"They need to prevent the Second Coming (SC)" is pretty much the only and most popular idea I have seen, hundreds of fics and metas and whatnot have been written about it, but I think there's a good chance we're wrong. If we're not, well, I will honestly just be happy to be watching season 3.

Whatever the Metatron is planning will have negative consequences for everyone, or as Michael puts it: "And so… it ends. Everything ends. Time and the world is over, and we begin Eternity… forever and ever."

It sounds very much like Apocalypse #1 - Same Old Plan, same expected result, yet if we look at different interpretations of scripture we find that the SC is not entirely about complete destruction and death for all of humanity—it is about creating a new world/migrating to the kingdom of God.

This is taken from the Wikipedia article about the SC

Resurrection and life in a world to come are a direct contradiction to the result Michael is explaining—total annihilation of humanity.

Now, I am neither religious in any way nor have I ever received any sort of biblical education. Luckily, Christians seem to love talking about the bible because there are dozens of bible website to wade through. If I get anything wrong, please point it out, I have never touched a bible in my life.

So, after reading many, many quotes by a bunch of different guys, I tried to create a somewhat coherent picture of what the SC might look like based on the assumption that the end result is positive. I will talk about how they can be interpreted more in-depth later, otherwise this would turn into a string-net very fast.

Additionally, we can also see where these points overlap with the statement Jimbriel gave in the bookshop in episode three.

What is Jesus' job description?

only God knows when and how exactly it will begin/happen, no one else does, including Jesus and the Metatron

a lot of different catastrophes are mentioned or quoted as something Jesus said, like earthquakes and storms -> Jimbriel mentioned a tempest and great storms

there is also the line "All these are the beginning of birth pains." Birth pains dictate that there will be a birth—birth of the world to come perhaps?

dead people will be resurrected/leave their graves so that they too can be judged (I'd say participate in it but that sounds like the Second Coming is a summer camp activity)

there are also mentions of stars and the heavens in general falling from the sky and the sun going dark -> Jimbriel also mentions darkness as one of the signs

great lamentations, as Jimbriel says, are also a part of many different passages, with humans mourning the world as it was

the Lord will descent with the voice of an Archangel and the sound of a trumpet/the trumpet of God; the grammatical structure of that sentence seems to be interpreted differently depending on who you ask, but the voices of angels/an Archangel and some sort of trumpet are common terms

once everyone is in heaven/wherever the 'main even' will take place, a judgement call will be made for every single person in relation to the book of life, which decides whether they will be punished forever or not (one passage talks about a lake of fire and mentions it several times in a row)

And this is where it gets tricky. To figure out what the SC looks like, we first need to understand a) what the Metatron's capabilities are, b) what he has to lose, and c) what exactly would be a threat to him.

If you ask me, all of this comes down to the Metatron wanting to stay and be in power for eternity with full control over angels so he can do as he please, aka keeping the system running as it is.

We know the book of life (bol) is a thing in the Good Omens universe, whether it does what Michael said is an entirely different question. So far, we have also only got confirmation that hell collects and tortures souls—in such large amounts that they are understaffed—while heaven looks completely empty.

The Metatron runs heaven as an institution, he seems to be the highest power any of the angels have access to and the one they defer to. He refers to himself as the voice of God and combines judge, jury and executioner, making him one great celestial dictator.

From what we know of hell, they do things a lot more democratically, having different councils, dukes, and ranks that are responsible for different levels of command.

We also know that that the Metatron wants the world to end, his goals can probably be summarized as the statement Michael makes, which would leave him in charge without any opposing forces.

We also also know that he sees Crowley and Aziraphale as a threat—why exactly remains a mystery for now—and that the success of his plan hinges on having a Supreme Archangel (SA) he can control. Gabriel decided to become princess of hell and Beez' sugar baby, so he was out of the equation, and after the Armageddon disaster, I don't think he wants to risk failing because of an unfamiliarity with earth (plus, y'know, getting our two idiots away from the plan).

It's interesting to me that right at the end, he says to Aziraphale "We call it the Second Coming"—call, not it is or it will be, CALL. We know that nothing Neil writes is a coincidence, definitely not with such an important line.

Just because you CALL something a specific name doesn't mean it IS what you call it, e.g. Aziraphale calls Crowley a foul fiend when we know he very much isn't.

The Metatron is selling his plan as part of the "Great/Ineffable Plan", so any questions can be blocked by saying it's God's will, it's ineffable. Whatever his plan is, he hides it behind the concept of the Second Coming, which angels know just enough about to understand the basics without having in-depth knowledge of what exactly it entails.

It is a good fucking strategy, I'll give him that, and it WORKS because angels—even if they have doubts—do not question. They simply don't; fear of punishment and millennia of conditioning have left them in a horrible place. When they encounter something unknown, their response is "I already knew that" as to not ask questions.

Crowley questions, we know that, and Aziraphale, ohhhhh, Aziraphale ALSO questions, but he does it in a less dangerous and obvious way. The Metatron is vastly underprepared for that.

(Side note: That alone would be its own meta post, but the gist is that he questions heaven's plans and then adjusts his assumptions of what God might want to what he WANTS God to want, e.g. Job, the Arch)

To summarize everything I just said, the Metatron wants to do what Armageddon failed to do—destroy earth and the universe—so he can be supreme dictator of all remaining celestial beings and gorge himself on power.

But instead of calling it his Big Evil Plan, he calls it the Second Coming, making everyone play along without resistance.

We cycle aaaaall the way back to the sentence I quoted—the ACTUAL plans are going wrong since the Metatron's would mean total destruction.

But what is the SC supposed to be if not the Apocalypse 2.0?

When I look at all the different aspects of the SC and assume a positive outcome, then the end result to me would be a new world that is pretty much like the old world, or maybe even literally the old world but with any destruction reversed. Heaven and hell get dissolved since now that everyone has been "judged", they as institutions are no longer needed, they have fulfilled their purpose.

No more judgement means there is no reason to keep track anymore, so why do you need to run celestial corporations whose only job is doing exactly that? You don't—and THAT is what I believe is the biggest perceived threat to the Metatron, losing full control over everyone and everything, losing his position, his title, and whatever else he has.

On top of that, Good Omens has told us again and again that God doesn't seem to give a fuck about good and evil anymore, and that without heaven and hell being all wrapped up in it, humanity would have 100% free will without any consequences.

Maybe the BoL is empty, maybe it isn't real, maybe Jesus stole it to straighten a wobbly table, who knows. There is a chance it is what Michael says, but I would admittedly find that a bit. too obvious and boring since it would boil the plot down to "they save their own asses again" and not "they save humanity at all cost".

Regarding Crowley and Aziraphale's role in this—I have Thoughts TM but those definitely need their own post. In short, they have to get the SC back on track, the real one.

If you have made it this far, thank you for working through what I hope are more or less coherent rambles. Any spelling or grammar mistakes are my own.

Questions? Thoughts? Corrections? Expansions and additions?

Feel free to add to this post however you like (and I can't believe I have to mentions this but if you clown on my post or behave like an asshole you will be blocked).

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yelena-bellova · 10 months

Text

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: Three Characters

Plot: Y/n puts her career at risk to help defend one of the Greyhounds.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: f!reader, language

A/N: This is barely spell checked, full warning.

Quick thanks to all of you for the lovely asks and comments you’ve been dropping. I really had no expectations for this one but I’m really glad people are enjoying it. Hopefully you enjoy this one as well! 💙

——————

Jamie Tartt had a lot of regrets in his life.

He regretted how he’d treated his teammates. How he’d been a prick to good people like Ted. How he’d gone about his relationship with Keeley. His first years in the Premier League were nothing but regrets.

“Come on, Tartt!”

And inviting Y/n to train with him that one morning he’d needed to pee was up there with the worst of them.

She was jogging significantly faster than him, but she had the advantage of not having Roy Kent on a bike tied to her waist.

Y/n ran backwards, showing off purely because she could. She faced Jamie with a smirk.

“Roy,” she called, “How ‘bout subbing me in for the Arsenal match?”

“If you’re faster than him,” Roy called back, “I’ll fucking consider it.”

Jamie grimaced, pushing himself to go faster. Y/n grinned at the effort and turned back around to keep her own pace.

She’d been different since Amsterdam, Jamie had noticed. There was a new levity to her. She was more talkative, she was smiling more, and just all around seemed more…her. The little he had seen of her privately, she seemed more of that.

And while he liked that, he was fucking exhausted by her and Roy teaming up against him.

“March,” Roy shouted for Jamie to run faster. He let out a casual whistle as Richmond locals watched them pass by.

“Good news is, after this,” Y/n called from the front, “Are burpees!”

Jamie groaned under his breath. She was enjoying this way too much.

—————————

Among the many changes in Y/n since Amsterdam, she had a new weekly appointment to keep.

“So you don’t know his name,” Y/n recapped the story she’d just been told, “You didn’t sleep with him. You just danced and drank wine and he cooked for you and did your laundry and gave you a foot massage.”

Rebecca nodded, a mouth full of biscuit preventing her from doing any more than humming. They were currently seated on the couch in her office.

Y/n was floored. “Well, if that’s not a movie, I don’t know what is.”

“I’ve never experienced anything like it,” Rebecca cut a hand through the air, “It was…gezellig.”

“You’re gonna have to teach me what that means,” Y/n remarked, taking a sip of her tea, “That’s insane. And you really didn’t exchange names? Nothing?”

“Mm-mm,” Rebecca replied, “It was one of those moments in time that just…stays there. It was perfect.”

Y/n smiled, shaking her head, “Well, it sounds like this gezellig phenomenon’s got its work cut out. Needs to bring the two of you back together.”

Rebecca sighed, “I doubt it. And I think I’m okay with it. Like I said, perfect in its own time.”

“Hey,” Y/n smacked Rebecca’s arm lightly, “Maybe he’s Matchbox Man.”

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca got up to serve herself another cup of tea. “Oh, hush,” she scolded, “I should have never told you that.”

“It’s giving a skeptic a lot to believe in,” Y/n chuckled. She had never thought anything of psychics and now Rebecca was trying to convince her otherwise. “And I wouldn’t have guessed you did either.”

“I didn’t,” the blonde said as she poured, “I don’t. But all these…little things. The details. It’s bloody ridiculous, yes, but…”

“Well, I like the ending part,” Y/n said. The more she got to know her, it became quite easy to picture Rebecca as a mother. But Y/n had decided against paying her that compliment. It clearly meant a lot to her and she was still grappling with the weight of the prediction.

Rebecca collected her thoughts, coming back to the couch. “Enough about me. What’s new with you?”

“Nothing,” Y/n shrugged.

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” Rebecca replied, “You’re happier, you’re relaxed…is there someone you’re not telling me about?”

“Uh, no,” Y/n laughed, shooting down the theory immediately, “Definitely not.”

“So none of the boys have tried anything?” Rebecca asked.

“No,” Y/n answered, “Blissfully. But they’re all pretty decent. I’m not too worried.”

“Oh, don’t let them hear you say that,” Rebecca muttered, “They may be gentlemen, but they’ll jump at any chance they get.”

Y/n laughed, but didn’t miss the way her boss’ eyes ever so briefly seemed to glaze over, lost in a thought.

“There something you wanna tell me?” Y/n asked.

Rebecca purposefully took a sip, forcing silence and innocently shaking her head. It was suspicious enough for Y/n to follow the money.

“They’re all perfectly lovely,” Rebecca smiled.

“Mm-hm,” Y/n smirked, not even trying to buy the denial.

“So, come on,” Rebecca changed the subject, “What is it then? What’s your secret?”

The only person Y/n had confided in about even 1% of her life’s history was Jamie, and that had only been because he understood it. She didn’t want to have to explain her revelations in Amsterdam and the complex backstory that came with them to anyone. But nearly everyone she’d encountered at Nelson Road that week had commented on her change in countenance. She hadn’t realized how obvious she’d been before.

“I think I’ve just…” Y/n sighed, “Settled in. I mean, I’m enjoying being here.”

Rebecca smiled and squeezed Y/n’s arm, “I’m glad. You’re a superb addition.”

Out of the many bosses she’d had, Y/n had never known one as kind as Rebecca. She was glad they’d started spending time together.

Y/n glanced at the clock on the wall, “Better get going.”

“What’s on the agenda today?” Rebecca asked.

“This will be my third attempt at getting footage from training for the socials,” Y/n set her empty teacup on the coffee table and rose, “When I say ‘wish me luck,’ I mean light a candle.”

“Oh no,” Rebecca replied, “What’s prevented you so far?”

Y/n wasn’t sure how to answer. The first day she and the staff photographer had come down to the pitch, the only shots they’d gotten were of various players throwing up or laying in fetal position. The second day consisted of shots where none of the boys looked like they knew what they were doing. Plus, a few action mode captures of Isaac making a corner kick, which Y/n felt needed to be kept for insurance purposes. On top of all of that, Ted had decided to start inviting fans to observe training which made things more tense, knowing that there were spectators watching every move. Y/n wasn’t sure what, or who, she’d find on the pitch that day.

“Well, you wouldn’t tell Van Gogh how to paint,” Y/n stopped at the door and faced Rebecca, “And you wouldn’t tell Ted how to coach.”

Rebecca smiled knowingly, giving Y/n a little ‘good luck’ nod before they both braved their separate days.

—————————

Y/n rounded up Gavin, one of the photographers for the club, and headed out to the pitch. Training had already begun and Ted was in the midst of explaining an exercise.

“Hey,” Y/n said softly, greeting Trent who was observing from the railing.

“Hey,” Trent replied.

Y/n took the spot beside him, the two of them had developed an easy rapport. “What do we have today?”

Trent’s mouth opened and shut, unsure of how to describe what Ted had just set up. Rather than try, he simply nodded toward the team.

Y/n took a look at the Greyhounds. They were all clumped together, as usual. What was out of the ordinary were the red strings that seemed to be connecting one player to another, stemming from their…shorts?

“Where’s the string-“ Y/n questioned aloud, before the answer struck her, “Oh.”

Trent rubbed at his lower lip, “Yeah.”

Y/n turned to Gavin, who was waiting for instructions. “You can go ahead and go back in, Gavin, we’re not getting anything today.”

Once he’d been sent off, Y/n went back to watching the team. They moved awkwardly to their positions, never straying too far from one another. When Ted blew his whistle, they became even more clunky, yet still moving with lightning quick reflexes. Driven purely by fear.

Trent and Y/n watched, both of them slightly amused. At some point, Y/n quietly pulled out her phone. It was too memorable a moment to not save for the rest of eternity.

“I may have my journalistic integrity,” Trent leaned in and whispered, pointing to Y/n’s phone, “But that is fantastic blackmail material.”

“Oh, I know,” Y/n chuckled, “Or I’ll just play it when they need to be humbled.”

Cries of pain and panic popped up on different ends of the pitch. So far, they’d avoided the ultimate injury, but it stood to wonder how long they could go before someone-

“AH!”

The pitch fell silent, everyone’s breath stuck in their chests. All eyes fell on Jamie, who didn’t dare to move, his red string missing.

Dani went to his friend, holding fast as Jamie checked to make sure…everything was intact. When he held up a hand to signal things were fine, Dani sighed.

“It’s okay! His penis is okay!”

While everyone let out a breath, Y/n snorted. Not only was it just so mind-numbingly absurd, but she’d gotten the entire thing on camera.

Ted blew his whistle, taking one step forward and tripping on a string connecting two players. Trent and Y/n both covered their faces, trying hard not to laugh.

“Okay, fellas,” Ted called after giving several apologies, “I think we’ve given this about as much of a go as anything else. Let’s take a break, untangle those knots, and we’ll get back out after.”

“So…” Y/n turned to Trent, “What do you think? Full chapter?”

Trent shrugged, “Worth a mention, at least.”

—————————

Later in the afternoon, Y/n was in her office when a Twitter alert chimed from her phone. With the Arsenal match two days away, it was likely the Greyhounds would be trending. When she picked up her mobile, she was surprised to find it was Sam who was trending, not Richmond.

Y/n opened the app to find that the tweet Sam had recently made, condemning the handling of Portsmouth Harbor’s refugee situation, had turned into an exchange. The politician he’d mentioned had snapped back and essentially told Sam to shut up and play football. She’d gone so far as to call him mediocre.

Sam. Mediocre.

It made Y/n’s blood boil. How could someone supposed to lead and guide the country stoop to so low a level? And to take it out on someone like Sam? Empathic, earnest, fucking spectacularly talented, Sam?

It wasn’t often that Y/n acted on emotion alone. All decisions in her life were carefully thought out, not a single one made without an ample amount of consideration. But when she opened up the AFC Richmond Twitter account and typed three characters, she did so purely from her heart.

The tweet read: #24

—————————

A few hours later, the headlines started to pop up.

AFC Richmond Backs Obisanya in Heated Political Exchange

Obisanya vs. Barot: Richmond Weighs In

Richmond Goes Political: Sam Obisanya’s Team Denounces Brenda Barot

Y/n had never seen something fall apart so fast. She had made a tremendous mistake.

Sat in the seats of the training pitch, the headlines bounced around her head. In a moment of pure insanity, feeling defensive of Sam, she’d managed to make football political. Not only was Sam under fire, but so was AFC Richmond as a whole. How many times had she been taught to avoid situations like this? Every boss she’d ever had had instructed her to stay neutral on anything involving politics. Never mix personal with professional. With one tweet, she’d thrown all teaching to the wayside and essentially blown her career up.

“So…”

Jamie’s voice broke her out of her spinning thoughts. He was climbing the concrete steps, hands stuck in his sweatshirt pocket.

“Van Damme spotted you filmin’ this morning,” he said, “And the lads appointed me to come and appeal to your humanity, release the video to us.”

Y/n scoffed, “Uh-huh.”

“And I’m afraid,” Jamie scrunched his face and swayed back and forth, “I can’t take no for an answer.”

“I mean, the only person this really affects is you,” Y/n extended a hand out, “Everyone else came off looking pretty damn skilled.”

Jamie scoffed, “‘Scuse you, I wouldn’t pick on you if you were injured.”

“Almost injured,” Y/n rolled her eyes thoroughly, “I have the proof.”

“Bringin’ us back to…” Jamie threw out his hand and wiggled his fingers.

Y/n gave a tight lipped smile, “Yeah, well, I’ll have to turn over all the footage anyway when I’m fired. You’ll be safe then.”

Jamie squinted, “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Have you seen the headlines?”

The joke was officially over. Jamie walked down the aisle and dropped into the seat beside Y/n. “No,” he replied, waiting until she held up her phone with an article already pulled up, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she stuffed the device back in her coat pocket.

“But…” Jamie tried to connect the dots, “Why would you get sacked for a tweet?”

“Because I got personal,” Y/n explained, her eyes never leaving the pitch. It was nearing sunset, the whole field was illuminated with a golden glow. “You post something like that on your page, not your employer’s.”

Jamie watched Y/n’s mouth move, still not quite understanding the problem. Not because he lacked the logic to figure it out, but because…was there really a problem?

“Have you seen the pictures from last season?” He asked, “Of Sam and the Dubai Air thing? Us on the pitch with tape over our kits?”

In her extensive research before she’d started, Y/n had come across shots of the team, boycotting Dubai Air. She’d also seen his press conference afterwards, accusing the Nigerian government of corruption. The boys had all stood in solidarity with him.

“Yeah.”

“Caused a fuckin’ riot,” Jamie continued, “Some people loved us, some people hated us. We’re still here.”

“‘Cause if you mess up or cause a scandal, people forgive you because you’re Jamie Tartt,” Y/n gestured to him, “You’re irreplaceable, I’m expendable. Universities crank out hundreds of me each year, ready to replace the next one who screws up.”

Any other time, Jamie wouldn’t have turned down the chance to spend time on the ‘irreplaceable’ remark. But it was clear Y/n was truly hurting. She really thought she’d ruined things.

“I just,” Y/n rested her head in her hand, “I just couldn’t stand to see that asshole attack Sam like that. He didn’t do anything. I don’t think the man’s committed one sin in his life.”

“Prick,” Jamie joked, trying to get her to smile.

“I just got angry,” Y/n continued, “And I shouldn’t have. Not like that.”

“I really don’t think it’s all that bad,” Jamie replied.

Y/n sighed, shutting her eyes as she leaned back in her seat, “We’ll see what Rebecca says.”

“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” Jamie brushed the mere idea off, “Even if she sacks you, I’d walk out with ya. See how she likes that.”

Y/n chuckled, “Yeah, right.”

“No, I’m serious,” Jamie continued, “Pack up me things, follow you out, refuse to come back till they re-hired ya.”

She shot him a quirked brow.

“Yeah, probably not,” Jamie said, finally earning a proper laugh from Y/n, “But I’d support ya silently.”

“Wow, what a pal,” Y/n remarked.

“Hey,” Jamie nudged her elbow, “You’re gonna be fine.”

Pulling one hand out of his pocket, Jamie slid his arm around the back of Y/n’s chair, offering a hug.

With another match being struck to her boundaries, Y/n leaned in and let Jamie embrace her. She settled her head against his shoulder, absorbing the warmth he radiated and letting herself be comforted…just for a moment. Even if all things fell apart, for a few seconds, everything felt okay.

Her frown returned as Jamie’s hand slid down towards her coat pocket.

“I can feel you trying to take my phone,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie replied, blindly feeling around and now slipping his other arm around Y/n, “I need that video.”

“Jamie,” Y/n grunted as she twisted to the side, holding her phone out as far as possible.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie was now fully on her and trying to pin her down, “I’m sorry.”

“Jamie!” Y/n cried, as they wrestled one another into the next seat. It was a blessing there was no one around. They were a fucking sight.

—————————

It took Y/n a good five minutes to hype herself up enough to knock on Rebecca’s door. She took a few deep breaths, hopped up and down a couple times, before rapping her knuckles on the doorframe.

“Ah,” Rebecca greeted her with a reserved smile, “I was just about to ask you to come up.”

Y/n’s nervous smile dropped, “You were?”

“Yes,” Rebecca gestured to the chair across from hers, “I wanted to speak to you about the current headlines.”

“Rebecca,” Y/n held up both hands, walking quickly across the room, “Before you say anything, let me just say this…I am so incredibly sorry for what I did. It was stupid a-and emotional of me and I had no place posting that from the club’s account. It was unprofessional of me and I absolutely understand if you’d like to call Keeley and ask her to bring in someone else.”

Rebecca let her finish, her expression unreadable as Y/n rambled. It unsettled Y/n more to not know just how much disappointment she was feeling.

“Y/n,” Rebecca raised a hand, “You’re not fired.”

Her brows shot up, “I’m not?”

“Absolutely not,” Rebecca smiled warmly, “Far from it. I wanted to commend you for what you did.”

“My tweet?” Y/n finished.

“How that woman spoke to Sam is repulsive. And there’s many more that are supporting those same thoughts. Sam doesn’t deserve that and we, as a club, stand behind him 100%. Why shouldn’t we do so publicly?”

Y/n’s heart was beginning to beat a little less out of her chest.

“You did nothing wrong,” Rebecca assured, “And don’t you dare think for a second I’d be crazy enough to let you go.”

A force of breath escaped Y/n, the air she didn’t realize she’d been holding onto. She wasn’t used to so much compassion, nor so much personalism embedded in the workplace. It had once bothered her, now it was saving her.

“Thank you,” was all she felt she could say.

“Now,” Rebecca pressed both palms to her desk, “Don’t you have more papers to be pissing off?”

Y/n laughed, turning on her heel and heading for the door. She’d have made it to the hall, if a sudden theory hadn’t railroaded through her mind.

“Oh my gosh,” she spun around, “Was it Sam?”

Rebecca, always so perfectly collected, shot a finger Y/n’s way. “Out.”

Y/n left smiling, both at the discovery and with relief that for the time being, she was safe.

—————————

The Arsenal match came around, bringing Richmond another opportunity to break their unlucky streak.

As always, Rebecca, Keeley and Y/n were in the stadium’s suite, waiting in anticipation. Lately, Y/n hadn’t seen much of Keeley, what with Jack absorbing the lion’s share of her time.

Rebecca and Keeley had filled Y/n in on the issue at hand. Jack was apparently “love bombing” her girlfriend, showering her with gifts and grand gestures. Not only was it overwhelming Keeley, but it was tipping the scales unfairly.

“That is a little…extreme,” Y/n admitted, they’d just told her about the overflowing amount of daisies Jack had filled Keeley’s office with.

“Mmm,” Rebecca nodded and swallowed her mouthful of champagne, “At the beginning, Rupert bought me so many tulips for so long, his florist was able to buy a castle.”

Keeley’s face furrowed, “What?”

“I mean, it was in Scunthorpe,” Rebecca shrugged, “But still. A castle.”

“Well, I’m taking Jack out tonight,” Keeley said, “And if she tries to pay, then I will give her-“

“You’ll give her what?” Rebecca smiled.

Keeley paused before smirking, “Just the tip.”

“Okay,” Y/n finished the last of her wine, “I support this, but I’m gonna need to be a lot less sober to hear you talk about our boss like that.”

The women burst into snorts, Keeley clutching onto Y/n’s arm.

“Hello, everyone,” Higgins approached the group with another man in tow.

“Hello, Leslie,” Rebecca greeted.

“May I present-” Higgins began to make introductions, but Rebecca was one step ahead.

“Mr. Obisanya. Rebecca Welton. Lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise,” the man said, shaking her hand, “Samuel has told me so much about you.”

Rebecca’s grin spread a little, “Has he?”

“Yes,” Mr. Obisanya’s tone became more serious, “He has.”

“Cool,” Rebecca’s shoulders jumped up.

Keeley and Y/n watched the interaction plunge right into awkwardness. If Y/n hadn’t been certain in her theory that Sam and Rebecca had once been a thing, this was a grand confirmation.

“Oh, yeah!” Keeley broke the silence, jumping up and down, “Come on, you Greyhounds! Let’s go, Richmond!”

Y/n cheered in addition, trying to make the moment any less uncomfortable.

“I’m Keeley, by the way,” she reached out and took Mr. Obisanya’s hand, “Hi.”

Y/n did the same, “Y/n.”

“Hey,” Sam’s father greeted them, but his eyes drifted back to Rebecca, “Let’s go, Greyhounds.”

As Higgins wisked Mr. Obisanya off, Keeley and Y/n tugged Rebecca along to their seats. The KJPR girls acted as a barrier, sitting on either side of her.

As the boys came out on the pitch, Y/n wondered if all the insane training methods she’d watched over the week would pay off. All the sweat, blood, tears and vomit had to be worth something.

Or nothing

The Greyhounds were slamming into one another, missing each other’s signals, and basically acting like it was their first time on a pitch. When the fifteen minute break came around, it was a relief to have a few minutes off from watching the misery.

While Rebecca and Keeley were away getting another drink, Mr. Obisanya crossed the aisle to sit beside Y/n.

“I wanted to thank you,” he leaned in to be heard over the crowd, “For what you did for my son.”

“Oh,” Y/n was a little surprised he even knew about her blunder. She hadn’t even had the opportunity to talk with Sam about it. “It was nothing. Really.”

“No,” Mr. Obisanya shook his head, “It was not nothing. There are very few willing to stand up against the type of people who attacked him. Who are willing to speak out,” he pointed a finger towards Y/n’s chest, “But you did.”

Y/n wasn’t sure she had grapsed the true weight of what she’d done until then. Sam’s father took her hand between his and squeezed, smiling so very warmly.

When the second half came around, the Greyhounds came back out with more confidence. There was no feasible way for them to beat Arsenal, but there was plenty of time left to go down swinging.

Van Damme prevented a goal and tossed the ball off to Jan, who shot it over to Dixon. Dixon passed it infield to Jamie, who immediately kicked it to Sam, who gave it to Colin. Over and over they passed to one another, beautifully.

Y/n gripped the railing, nearly out of her seat as she watched.

The ball ended back with Jamie and he passed to Isaac. Isaac got it to Dani who brought it right back to Jamie. Bumbercatch received it, sending it to Goodman, and a lightning quick Jamie was in prime position to score a goal. Instead, he faked the other team out and kicked it back to Richard, who nailed the perfect goal.

Rebecca and Keeley sat in shock, but Y/n leapt to her feet, cheering with nothing but pride.

“That was incredible,” she exclaimed, her hands pressed to her lips.

“I don’t even know what happened,” Rebecca cried, breaking into a grin.

The match ended 3-1, Asrsenal, but it didn’t feel like a total loss for Richmond. They were back. Zava-less and proud, they were back.

After overseeing interviews, Y/n hurried down to the Greyhound bus before it left. She needed to talk to-

“Y/n!”

She turned to see Sam, hastening his steps to catch up to her.

“Hey,” she waved, “Oh my gosh! You guys were amazing!”

“Thank you,” Sam smiled, “I wanted to thank you for what you did.“

“No, no, no,” she shook her head and took hold of Sam’s arms, “You spoke out. That’s what matters.”

“Just the fact that you would do that,” Sam continued, “It meant a lot. I know you probably took some heat for it.”

Y/n chuckled, “Not as much as you’d think.”

“Well, thank you,” Sam extended his arms, unsure of whether it was alright to hug but feeling all the kinship needed for one.

Y/n didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Sam’s shoulders.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Sam said as they pulled away from one another.

“See you Monday,” Y/n patted his arm once more before heading back towards the stadium.

—————————

Jamie, already sat in the bus, watched out the tinted windows as Sam and Y/n hugged. He’d been glad when she’d come back from her meeting with Rebecca smiling, the two of them passing one another in the hall. He’d even been remorsefully happy when she waved her phone at him, a reminder that the Greyhounds would forever have to be nice to her, lest the Red String incident go public.

Jamie was happy, all around, that Y/n had settled into Richmond.

And he couldn’t figure out why he was the tiniest bit jealous that she’d come down to find Sam and not him.

——————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #rebecca welton x reader #keeley jones x reader #heartfirst

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flusteredtuna · 4 months

Text

YES, CHEF!

Carmen Berzzato“The Bear” x !fem! reader

Contains: ( 18+ Mature Only ) praise, first kiss, head, and x-men movie.

Words: 2k+

Summary: Carmen, a good friend, shows up unexpectedly at your door late at night. Tipsy. And things obviously take a turn as he sobers up and you learn the true nature of his visit. ( no under the influence… do not fret )

I used a scene from Netflix’s series ‘Good Girls’ season 4 episode 6, as a main plot point and used the begging dialogue. I won’t name the scene as to not spoil the show ( it’s not a big plot point and the fanfic does not spoil it either. ) you can watch the clip here.

This was written for a friend 💕 ( and i had to repost due to an error ) This is also the second fan-fiction I have ever completed, so enjoy.

It’s a relaxing Saturday evening in your quaint charming little apartment on the third floor. Warm lighting, antique cabinet, quilted blanket covering your lap, and a warm homemade mug of Earl Grey tea in your hand as you read your book.

knock. knock. KNOCK.

A heavy and lazy hand knocks on your landlord’s special white front door. It’s 10 p.m., who could be knocking on the door? You un-tuck yourself from your spot on the couch and with tea in hand, you head toward the door and open it.

It’s Carmen. You’ve been friends for about a year now, friends with feelings for half that time. You met through a mutual friend, one who works at his restaurant. The relationship between you two is close and has only gotten closer with having the same friend group. But even with the tension in the room during every group hangout, he’s never made a move. And neither have you. Maybe it’s because of his girlfriend. Who didn’t show up to game nights.

And yet here he is, making an unexpected visit to your apartment.

“This isn’t my house,” he says. He smells of beer and is definitely not sober. Both his arms hold his body up as he leans in your doorframe.

“Hey yourself…” your face is twisted with confusion. Carmy never came over, at least not by himself. “Are you…tipsy? Fried? any other word for not sober?” You try to figure him out enough to make him go away before it turns into something else.

He chuckles a bit, “Just a bit buzzed”.

“Why are you in my doorway, Carmen?” You lean against the open door.

“I was at the bar, with friends. Karaoke bar.” He huffs as he finishes his sentence which seems hard to get out of his mouth.

“I don’t even know who to feel sorry for there” you respond. A look of worry mixed in with your confusion.

You stare at each other for what feels like the longest five seconds of your life. His mouth hung open a little.

“I can’t be with her anymore” You wince at his words and your heart drops to your toes. Did he just say that? Has he told her?

“You should go home,” trying to prevent something from progressing.

“I don’t want to go home” he quickly responds

“Then you should go somewhere else” You grab the door leaning away, ready to close it on him. Although you don’t want to, you know you should.

“Can I uh- just please come in?” Starting to close the door he pushes back a bit “No, Carmy. Please trust me, just go home.” He places a firm hand on the door and abruptly says, “I think I’m gonna crap myself.”

You stop and look at him. It’s unbelievable that this is what made you stop. You swing the door open and do the same with your other arm, gesturing to him to enter. He walks in, and heads for the bathroom.

Setting your tea down you sit on the couch waiting for him to come back, you try to think of anything else other than the fact that Carmen is in your home. Possibly with the intention of cheating on his girlfriend with you. Attempting to stare at the patchy rug to find some sort of escape. The goal now was to just make sure he didn’t do anything crass.

He walks out of the bathroom and immediately slumps himself on the floor against the couch right next to you. “I wouldn’t go in there for at least 30 minutes.”

Raising your brows and giggling, “Feeling any better?”

Carmen doesn’t even look at you, he just looks straight on. “Not really.” He rubs his hands together.

“I broke up with Sarah.” He says quietly. Yet another string of words that makes your heart drop.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You try to be reassuring but you’re not sure how to be in this situation. “Do you want to talk about it?” Carmen looks at you, his eyes glossy from his buzz.

“Nah.” You tilt your head at him and then look over at the TV, catching the slight reflection of your two figures lounging on the comfy yellow couch. “Do you want to watch something?”

Carmen’s nods face towards the black screen of the TV, and you reach for the remote to turn something on. “X-men?” you suggest as he gets up and sits on the other end of the couch. One person’s width away from you.

“X-Men it is.” He slurs his words a bit as he gestures to the TV with a hand and flops it back down in his lap. Turning on the movie, you make yourself comfortable by shifting your legs to bend and your feet resting on the middle cushion, pulling the blanket over you. Even with him sitting glued to the arm of the other end, you both are still somehow too close.

As the movie passes, the tension stands. Seeing each other glancing out of the corner of their eyes now and then doesn’t help. Finally, Carmey opens up a bit and starts to comment on the movie, “You know, I don’t know why they cast Evan Peters for this when he plays that other guy in that Wanda show. Fuckin’ stupid.” He sounds more like himself now, which eases the tension, making this situation a little more comfortable.

“Yeah I think there’s a theory about that,” You both continue to talk throughout the movie, he seems to sober up. It’s nice hanging out with him like this. Although the circumstances aren’t 100% preferred, you don’t seem to mind it anymore.

The movie ended with you both laughing at a conversation completely unrelated. Whatever it was it was something way more entertaining to both of you. So long of a conversation that the credits end. You both look over to the screen again. A prompt asking “How would you rate this film?”.

“Well, I guess it ended.” You chuckle a bit but look over at him, seemingly back in his head again. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that.

Now sitting up against the arm of the couch and crossing your legs, you feel like you should say something.

“You know the best wa-“ he interrupts you “I broke up with her so I could see you.”

Your eyes meet as he looks over to you, now sitting up a bit more. “Carmy I-“ interrupting you again “Y/N, I don’t want you to feel guilty or anything. I know this is a lot,” he puts a hand to his temple and starts to get a little more passionate in his speech. Almost defensive. “Shit. I just couldn’t see you without leaving and not feel fuckin’ guilty!” His hand gestures around as he speaks, like he’s in the kitchen talking to his staff.

“Carmen!” You try to steer the conversation away from him getting louder, “Why would you feel guilty?” You know the answer to that.

He rests a hand on his lap and his other on his temple again. Releasing a deep exhale, he looks at you. “Maybe I wanted to uh-,” he hesitates for a moment to look you up and down. “Feel something…else.”

You can feel the flush rushing to your cheeks so quickly after he says this. With wide eyes and raised brows, you try to pull out your best response, “Feel what? Pressed about…Marvel casting?”

He chuckles and moves a smidge towards you, putting a bent leg up on the couch, “No no no. no. Jesus. That, that’s ridiculous.” You smile a bit at his amusement, “Then what is it, Carmy?”

Rubbing his face and letting out another huff, he sounds like he’s holding back. And you aren’t sure if you want him to keep it bottled or release it.

Continuing to look at you with starry eyes, he rests an arm on the back of the couch. “Fuck. Look. I don’t want to be too forward and I definitely don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” You press your lips together in anticipation of what he’s about to say, “It’s something that I’ve felt for a while and I’ve been fucking ignoring it.” He pauses again and takes another huff, taking a look at the door. “I should just go.”

As he gets up you grab his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Carmy,” his eyes soften as he looks at you, “you don’t need to leave.”

As you let go of his wrist he sits next to you, closer. “It’s kind of obvious.” You chuckle a bit through your words. It is obvious. You’ve noticed this tension for a while now, he’s only just confirming it.

“What is? That I like you?” His tone is almost defensive like he was caught. A smile creeps on your face, “I mean…Marcus has noticed it too.” He raises his brows, surprised. “He said the tension is thicker than his dark chocolate mousse.” Carmen laughs at this, and so do you. It’s a sweet moment.

He pushes his hair back from falling more in his face, “I uh, I’m sorry I showed up like this.”

“If you mean showing up drunk at my door to use my bathroom and then sobering up while watching X-men with me…” You make it sound like a bigger deal than it is just to tease him.

“No yea, shit. I’m sorry I-”

“Then it’s more than fine.” Laughing again, like you are the only two people in the world. You both exchange a smile looking deeper into each other’s eyes.

“You’ve always had a nice laugh.” He says putting his arm back on the couch, and leaning in a bit.

“You do too.” It all feels like a dream. The fact that he’s here, making a move on you.

He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, so effortlessly, that you wish you could stay in that moment forever.

You look away for a moment, clearly a bit flustered, “Are you sure you aren’t still tipsy?” turning back you notice he’s gotten a little closer.

“I’m positive I’m sober.” He chuckles again.

You start to lean in a bit, not realizing that you have until your noses are about five inches apart from one another. His hand was still near your face, resting on the back of the couch beside you.

Looking at your lips he begins to say, “I uh. Just-”. He doesn’t even finish his thought. He’s too distracted by his lips on yours.

It was a soft kiss, one you’ve been waiting for, for the longest time. Pulling back you find his hand on your cheek caressing it. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” He says, with a breath of relief that the hard part was over.

Jaw dropped, you look at his mouth again. He catches this and charges at you for another kiss, this time more intense. You hold both of his cheeks in hopes of him staying put. He almost hovers over you as you both continue to make out.

Soft and quiet moans escape your mouth as he reaches down one of his hands to feel the sides of your arms. Then tracing back up to your cheek. He pulls back. Your lips burn with sensation.

“Carmen,” the words escape your mouth through heavy breathing, “are you sure this is okay.”

He puts a hand to your chin, “Yes.” he kisses your cheek. “I wanna take care of you.” Your brain swarms with ideas of what he could mean.

You smile in approval while taking his free hand and putting it to your breast. He smirks as he follows his hand and where it landed. “Then take care of me.”

With a firm squeeze, he touches you through your shirt, while he moves his face towards your neck and kisses it. He takes his time reaching under your shirt to explore you with more satisfaction.

Caressing your nipple with his pointer and his thumb, already making you weak. And he watches as your face curls in pleasure.

Carmen then lifts your shirt to sit just above your breasts and kisses the center, making his way over the hill of your other breast and biting the peak. It makes you gasp. He puts a hand under the curve of your other breast and messages it.

Your soft moans only make him want you more.

He moves away for a moment, and you open your eyes to watch him, “wha- what is it.” He smirks and lifts the blanket you’re under, just enough to reach his arm in to place a hand on the side of your thigh. Scooting closer he leans over you now slouched on the couch.

Suddenly you’re kissing again, passionately. He feels your thigh up and down gripping it, then moving to the inside. Parting your legs he reaches a hand up from the bottom of your shorts, under your panties to grab your hip. Like it’s his. Then firmly and slowly sliding it back out.

“Take… them off.” You whisper through kisses. Pulling away he smiles and looks at your drowsy eyes. Without saying anything he lifts the blanket further and now using both his hands he tugs on your waistband, taking away the sleep boxers you had been wearing.

Touching you again in that spot that’s so sensitive, he teases you. Denying the pleasure of having the fabric between you and his fingers, out of the way. Your moans continue, still soft, as he caresses you further. The intensity builds as your lips meet again.

Backing away, he lifts the blanket once more, but now going in head first. Your heart drops, you know exactly what he has in mind.

With his head between your thighs he kisses your soft spot, and then taking both his hands on either side of your drawers, he pulls them off revealing you.

Carmen uses his fingers to carefully open you up like a flower, kissing the bud. He’s so gentle that you do feel like you’re being taken care of.

But then you suddenly feel another sensation. His tongue is on you. Swirling around. It makes you moan louder as your back arches. Ribs reaching for the sky. You grab onto the couch to try and ground yourself, but it doesn’t help much.

“You’re so wet for me.” He feasts upon you and now takes two of his fingers and plays with your entrance, spreading your wetness around like butter on a hot skillet. His free arm is wrapped around your thigh, holding on tight to keep you steady.

As he tastes you more and more. The finest dish. You lift your end of the blanket with the small strength you have and watch his head back away from your clit to look at you as he puts two fingers inside you. He starts to push them in and out of you and you throw your head back moaning in absolute hot delight.

“Look at me.” His demand is so dominating. Again, sounding like he’s in the kitchen.

“Make me.” You say through a heavy moan. He pulls his fingers out making you gasp grabbing your chin and pulling your face down to meet his eyes. “Yes, Chef”. He chuckles a bit, letting you get away with that one. You knew he might be thinking about that during his next shift.

You watch as he goes back down, shoving his fingers back inside. Gripping the couch once again louder moans escape your mouth. Picking up his pace you can feel him hitting your walls in the best way. “Fuck, Carmy…” You manage to moan out.

The closer you get the more you surrender to his pace as it gets faster. Your body clenches around him, making it tighter and tighter for him. “Cum for me.”

You nod your head rapidly as you’re too stimulated by the pleasure. Your back arches even further and you become stiff in your position as he hits the spot so perfectly. This is what you’ve been waiting for. The peak of your gratification inches closer and closer.

Finally…you gasp in ecstasy, his fingers still inside you pounding. “That’s it.” He whispers moving away from eating you out, to just using his fingers. Watching you as you finish on them.

Carmen pulls his fingers out slowly, watching your overstimulated body heave heavy breaths. He scoots your legs to the side to lie beside you on the couch. Between catching up with your lungs you manage to speak. “Carmen, you…” You take a clarifying breath as he props himself up on his arm, looking at you as he lays beside you. “You’re really good at that.”

He chuckles, “Of course I am, I eat for a living.” He tucks your hair away behind your ear, and you both take a moment to be present as your tummy buzzes with butterflies.

#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto fanfic

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