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wileys-russo · 3 months

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Leah, London Colney, “I may aswell just retire”

legacy II l.williamson

"lee! baby we've gotta go in five have you packed her bag?" you yelled out from your daughters bedroom, sat on the bed with the three year old on your lap as you quickly braided her hair so it would be out of her face all day.

“i have snacks, her blanket, her mini ball, her teddy, her inhaler, her water bottle, her headphones, her beanie, her rain jacket, a change of clothes and a story book.” leah recounted as she burst into the room with the bright red backpack in hand.

"gunner!" mila chirped as you tied off the second braid and your wife looked like she could have exploded with joy. "yes you are, mummys little future gunner." leah cooed, tickling her stomach as you rolled your eyes.

"she means the dinosaur einstein." you pointed to the bright green mascot sat on the desk as leah turned.

"you are so mean to me when we have early morning training darling, i've half a mind to tell jonas you aren't allowed to train until eleven." leah sighed with a shake of her head as you stood and hoisted mila onto your hip.

"you love it mrs williamson." you grinned, pecking her lips and breezing past as she followed suit with the backpack in hand. "maybe only a little mrs williamson." you stiffened as her hand smacked against your ass.

"leah! the baby." you hissed in warning, your daughter in a critical parrot phase as you'd both lovingly dubbed it, repeating nearly everything and anything she watched either of you do or say.

and with your wifes potty mouth and tendency to gossip it had gotten the pair of you into hot water more than once in the last few weeks.

like just yesterday when leahs mum had tried to put her down for a nap and was promptly told to fuck off, something mila had heard leah shout at the tv while watching a premier league game when you both thought she was asleep in bed, not hovering by the doorway with eager little ears.

"im not a baby!" mila protested with a scowl that was scarily similar to the blonde standing behind her. "yes you are, you could be forty and you'll still be my baby." leah shrugged as your daughter huffed and you cleared your throat.

"our baby." leah corrected with a charming smile as you hummed, taking your daughters backpack out of her hand and grabbing the car keys as leah made sure to take both of your gym bags as the three of you headed out.

"shark song!" mila cheered as you buckled her into her car seat and leah slipped into the drivers side after tossing all the bags in the back. "bubba isn't there any other song you'd like?" leah asked hopefully with a pained winced as you closed your door and sat in your own seat.

"shark song! shark song! shark song!" the three year old chanted pumping her fists and kicking her feet out as if she'd just won the world cup and you grinned, phone connecting and clicking play on baby shark as leah groaned.

"i'm going to murder kyra." leah stated bluntly toward the culprit behind milas obsession with the overtly catchy kids tune, shifting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway as you leaned across the console and kissed her cheek.

"just look how happy it makes her baby." you chuckled nodding behind you as leah glanced to your daughter who was wiggling and dancing in her seat, screaming along to the lyrics.

"she's lucky she's cute." leah shook her head, smile tugging at her lips as she faced forward and sped onto the main road.

"well she gets that from you."

"leah! there is no way she's going to eat all that." your eyes widened in disbelief as the blonde placed down your daughters breakfast plate in front of you before sitting on your other side with her own.

"mama i'm a growing girl!" mila protested, echoing leahs exact words from dinner last night as you shot your wife a filthy look who wasted no time pecking your lips apologetically.

"me!" mila craned her head back as leah grinned, attacking the three year olds face with kisses as everyone at the table visibly melted at the sound of her giggles echoing around the room.

"hey mila can aunty beffy have some bacon pretty please?" beth asked with a smile from across the table. "good luck." leah mumbled with a shake of her head. "no! my bacon." mila frowned and covered her plate protectively.

"well if there was ever any doubt she's leahs, thats squashed it." kim shrugged as your wife grinned and pushed her playfully. "but mila im so hungry! i might fall off my chair from starvation." beth groaned dramatically, collapsing into her girlfriend who looked down at her unamused.

"didn't ask don't care." mila chirped your own words from dinner last night as leah choked on her eggs and kim whacked her on the back. "that ones on you!" your wife warned as you blushed, mumbling a gentle reminder to your daughter about manners.

"hey mila can aunty wally have a piece of bacon please?" lia asked from your other side as mila nodded, pushing her plate closer and wiggling herself up from your lap as you hurried to steady her as she stood on your knees.

"mila!" beth gasped in betrayal, lia scooting her chair back as your daughter clambered over to sit with her now instead, seemingly more than happy to share her breakfast with her godmother who gave the blonde across the table a victorious smirk as she bit down on a piece of bacon.

"i play now?" you looked down with a smile as a tiny body clung onto your leg, mila recognizing the sound of the whistle to mean she was now able to run around the pitch freely with her aunties as training was over.

"you play now. who do you wanna kick with today bubba?" you squatted down and brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face. "aunty lessi!" your daughter held her arms up at your best friend whose face lit up.

"now how could i ever say no to you?" the blonde picked her up right away before tossing her in the air and catching her, pulling a face and making mila giggle. "careful less." you warned sternly, the girl waving you off as she grabbed a ball.

"whose on the other team?" alessia whispered to your daughter as a few of the girls lined up, mila frowning as she looked them over. "lots, steffy, mummy and kimmy!" mila decided, simply naming all four girls who lined up making everyone grin.

"okay. remember what we practiced at our sleepover?" alessia placed mila down and squatted to her level, hands on her shoulders as your daughter nodded. "no mercy!" mila yelled making a few of the girls snicker.

"that was aunty mary, not me." alessia teased, pulling down mila's beanie over her eyes as she whined and quickly fixed it as her ball was placed by her feet. "okay. go!" alessia clapped, jogging beside her as your daughter gave it a kick.

one by one she kicked past her defenders, the girls all falling dramatically to the ground making her giggle as alessia continued to coach her forward, now only leah standing in the way of the goal.

"leah!" you called out in warning, recognizing your wifes competitive drive ran deep and she had no problem teaching your daughter 'how to lose gracefully' despite the fact it wasn't a lesson you'd say leah actually knew herself.

though if the blonde defender heard you she didn't acknowledge it, smirk on her face as the girls all cheered for mila who had an adorably concentrated frown on her features now.

"shoot shoot shoot!" alessia encouraged with a clap, mila kicking the ball as hard as she could and you held your breath knowing it had been a long morning and with your daughter due for a nap soon it wouldn't take much to set her off if leah chose not to let her have this goal.

though you breathed a sigh of relief as the ball rolled through your wifes legs and she fell to the ground with a dramatic cry, a soft smile on your face as mila jumped on top of her with a cheer.

"goaaaalll!" alessia cupped her hands over her mouth and cheered, scooping the tiny blonde up and hoisting her on her shoulders, sprinting around on a victory lap and assuring she held on very tightly.

you grabbed a bottle of water and made your way over toward leah who sat up, accepting your hand as you helped her up and were quickly drawn into her hold.

"does it still hurt she's following in my footsteps and not yours?" you teased, squealing as leahs cold hands crept up your top and she playfully bit your neck.

"with a goal like that under her belt i may as well just retire." leah sighed, arms wound around your neck as she gently swayed the two of you side to side, both of you watching on fondly as your daughter raced around with her auties.

"shit its past her nap time isn't it?" leah realised, training having had a delayed start due to a sprinkler malfunction as you nodded and your wife groaned, seeing mila was still very much so wide awake which would throw her off her regular schedule.

"oh she's going to be a nightmare to get down tonight."

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #leah williamson #engwnt #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader

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kteezy997 · 6 months

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The Candy Man- Part Three//W.W.

Warnings: mention of weight gain, judging spouse for gaining weight, planning to trick spouse, and some brief but very filthy smut, oral sex female receiving

Your secret affair with Willy went on for several more weeks. It was the highlight of your week, every week. He would bring over his delicious chocolate concoctions for you to try, and you would make love all over your house.

You loved having something to look forward to. You loved having someone that took notice of you, and made you feel beautiful and desired. Willy was charming, of course, but also sensitive and bright eyed, with such a positive energy to be around.

Each moment with him was a slice of heaven. At first, it was all about the sex, and how excited and willing to learn he was. But, in time, you found yourself falling in love.

You weren’t surprised that your husband still had no clue about another man coming over to sleep with you. He hadn't picked up on the exponential change in your mood, or the scent of another man on you, or the little love marks on your body. The man you married wasn’t the brightest bulb on Christmas tree. But he did begin notice that you had gained a few pounds. He made a couple of snide comments about your weight.

You hadn’t really paid attention, but once he rudely pointed it out, you realized that you had plumped up slightly in your belly area. It hurt your feelings, especially since he barely spoke to you and now whenever he did, it was to acknowledge something he viewed as a flaw. You figured the extra weight was brought on by all the sugar you had been eating on account of your lover’s chocolate.

You thought very little of your body’s changes until you missed your period the following week. Your stomach dropped at the thought of being pregnant, but not by your husband. You were worried about what he would do if he found out. You worried for your sake and for Willy's. You decided to call your doctor to be totally sure, and then you’d figure out your next step.

…….

When Willy came by that day, he was smiley as usual and wrapped his arms around you as soon as he entered the house. “I’ve missed you.” he cooed, kissing you with passion. It was difficult to be apart for a week at a time, for the both of you.

“I missed you too, Willy.” you said, squeezing him back as you hugged. “Listen, I gotta talk to you about something.”

“Of course. Is everything okay? Does he know?” There was a sudden urge of panic in Willy’s last question.

“No, no. It’s just…I think I could be pregnant. And you are the father, I haven’t had sex with my husband in months. I don’t know what to do.” you were anxious about your future when it came to this baby. You loved Willy, but you were a kept woman, your whole life could turn upside down as a result of this situation.

Willy's eyes were as big as saucers and he was silent for a moment before he said, “Wow. Okay, okay, listen, everything is going to be alright. Whatever you decide to do, I will support you.” he assured you, taking your hand. “I know that we haven’t known each other very long, but I love you, y/n. It sounds crazy, I know.”

“It does, it does sound crazy. But I love you too, Willy.”

He smiled softly at you, and he pulled you to him, and held you in a warm embrace. He smelled sweet like sugar, but also like fresh cottony linens.

You felt so safe with him, but you didn't know if that feeling could translate into the real world. You life with Willy looked so uncertain at this point.

But, his words of love and support lifted your spirits.

……

The next day, as you suspected, the doctors visit confirmed that you were indeed having a baby.

You spent the next week thinking of a plan of action. You were so torn between your mundane, yet familiar life with your dull husband, and the idea of running away with Willy Wonka. Willy had told you that his dream was to own and run his very own chocolate factory, to share his creations with the entire world.

No matter how big or unattainable his dreams may seem to an outsider, you knew that Willy was the kind of person to not take "no" as answer, and to chase his dreams all the way through to fruition. He was so full of joy and optimism and so easy to love. It would be the greatest adventure to be with him on his candy journey, especially along with your child. You knew that he would be a wonderful father.

But you didn't know how you and Willy would carry on in the meantime, before he found the success he was striving for. You didn't even know where he lived, or if he even had a home. For goodness sakes, you couldn't give birth or raise a baby in the streets!

There was one thing that would inhibit your life going forward with your husband. You were married to a blond haired, blue-eyed man with an athletic body. And you were impregnated by a skinny man with green eyes and dark curly hair. If you wanted to make your husband believe the child was his, you would have to come up with some genetic evidence.

Well, your mother had curly hair, so that could work in your favor. But the green eyes...perhaps those were descended from your father's side, yes, from the great grandfather you never got to meet, as he had died when your father was still small. Your husband would believe you, as he wouldn't have anything to disprove it.

Now, with your plan in your mind, all you had to do was sleep with your husband, to make him believe he impregnated you. The timeline of your fake pregnancy wouldn't line up with the actual one, but you knew that your husband could be fooled easily.

This could work for awhile, you thought, until you and Willy came up with another plan to run away together.

…….

You told Willy everything. You even mentioned that you would have to sleep with your husband for the plan to work. You didn’t want to have sex with him, but you had to at this point.

“I understand, y/n. And I’m not mad at you, but maybe I am little jealous that he will get to be inside you, I have to admit.” he looked down at his hands in his lap, pouting his lip a little, “He doesn’t deserve to be with you. Not in any way. You’re way too good for him.”

“You’re so sweet, honey. We will be out of this situation soon.” you caressed his cheek, smooth and soft to the touch, “You’ll have your own chocolate shop in no time and then, your own factory.” you put your hand on your stomach, “We believe in you, Willy Wonka.”

He grinned, putting his hand on yours, “I can’t wait to meet him, or her. The baby is going to be so beautiful, just like you.”

“I hope they have your curls.” you said, softly brushing your fingers through his silky locks.

Willy blushed, “I still can hardly believe it. I’m going to be a father.” he shook his head, then looked directly into your eyes, “And I’m going to give this child the life they deserve, and you too. Neither of you will have to want for anything, if I have something to say about it. We will have more than we’ve ever dreamed of, y/n.” he declared, leaning in to kiss you most tenderly.

“I’ve been thinking, and I really think that I can help you with the business side of things. You can be the chocolate maker and I’ll be your business partner. That way, it’ll be like we are truly in this together, Willy.”

He smiled from ear to ear, “Pinky promise? It’s the most solemn vow there is.” he held his pinky out and you tucked your own around his firmly.

“Pinky promise.”

…….

You were a little hornier than usual due to your pregnancy, so you and Willy got down to business straightaway after your important conversation. This rendezvous could also help you out by remembering it later in with your husband. Thinking about sex with Willy would make your reactions to Mr. Hudson more convincing.

As you lover went down on you, you threw your head back on the couch throw pillows. You moaned, nearing your orgasm already when Willy suddenly stopped licking. You looked down at him between your legs, “What is it, Willy?”

“Does being pregnant affect the way you taste? Because…” he licked his lips, pondering over your flavor, “you taste…salty, which is unusual, because you’re always sweet.”

You laughed, “I don’t know. I’m sure it can cause a little bit of a change.”

“Oh, okay.” he nodded, “You know, I’ve masturbated to the thought of eating you and chocolate at the same time.” he admitted.

“We can try it sometime, baby. Just keep going for now. I’m so close.” you loved how he felt comfortable enough to admit something so dirty to you, but all you wanted in that moment was for him to make come.

“Yeah, yeah! Right, sorry babe.”

You erupted just moments later and squirted in Willy’s face. You couldn’t get the image of him smirking with your juices on his lips out of your head. It came in handy when you had to seduce your husband later that night. Willy had a way of being encouraging.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @chalametbich @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet smut #willy wonka #willy wonka x reader #wonka movie #wonka #wonka 2023

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dumbseee · 11 months

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bro code. pt3.

part 1. part 2.

carlos sainz jr x reader.

fc: bruna marquezine.

note: sorry for the mistakes this might have, english isn’t my first language and this is the longest fic i’ve ever written :) btw this will be the last part.

liked by landonorris, y/n, charles_leclerc and 1 589 008 others.

carlossainz55: happy birthday to the person who owns my heart. you helped me experience true love, and for that i’ll forever be grateful. your heart is pure and you always want the best for people, i love every little detail about you, like the way you always count to three before jumping into the pool because you were afraid of it when you were younger, or the way you always kiss my forehead before every race because you say it’s my lucky charm. you are my lucky charm, mi cielito. i love you so much y/n, thank you for giving me the chance to show you how you deserved to be loved.

y/n: how dare you making me cry on my birthday carlos sainz :( i love you more <3

carlossainz55: @.y/n not possible, i’m bigger than you so i can hold more love for you.

fan1: I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES

fan2: WHEN IS IT MY DAMN TURN

fan3: god it’s me again…

fan4: im going to kms in front of them to change the trajectory of their lives istg

fan5: GOOOOOOSH CARLOS IS ABISDODLLD

landonorris: damn sainz, even i am tearing up

fan6: just get married already

fan7: after n*ymar, y/n deserved a man like that

liked by marquinhosm5, carolcabrino, neymarpai_ and 3 788 082 others.

neymarjr: my heart is empty without you, you’ve blocked me so i can’t wish you a happy birthday privately but please y/n come back to me. you succeeded, that stunt you pulled with that random driver hurt me, you can stop now. i know that you miss me and want to comeback so please y/n be reasonable. i made a huge mistake and i’ll never forgive myself for what i did to us.

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your day went terribly, it was your birthday and you were excited for it but your day was completely ruined with neymar’s post. because of course, you saw it the second he posted it. your agent called you, panicked and told you to avoid social media, but it was too late. you were home when you saw it and had a huge panic attack. you didn’t tell carlos and you prayed that he didn’t see the post which was very unlikely since neymar mentioned him. you were more mad at the fact that he disrespected carlos because he didn’t deserve it. even if your relationship was fake to the world, carlos was nothing but a sweetheart to you. you even hoped that the moments you shared with him were true.

carlos texted you to come at his house to have a small party with some friends but you almost had a heart attack when you entered the house and saw all those people screaming "happy birthday!" filming you to have your reaction. carlos had a very different definition of « small party ». you saw him walk towards you with a huge smile, he was breathtaking, wearing nude pants and a blue shirt, letting the top buttons open, showing a bit of his torso. you were completely mesmerised by him, that was the effect carlos had on you.

"surprise cielito." he said after kissing your cheek, he wrapped his arm around your waist and gave you a hug. you melted in his touch and smiled at him. "you didn’t need to do all that, carlos." you said. "nonsense, it’s your birthday after all." you smiled at him and kissed his cheek before some friends of yours came to greet you and wish you a happy birthday. carlos’ purpose was to make your birthday special, especially with what happened earlier with your ex. he knew how this whole situation affected you deeply, even if you tried to hide it from him, carlos saw right through you. he could tell if you were upset just by looking at your face.

"umm, carlos?" lando’s voice took him out of his thoughts, he looked at his friend but frowned when he saw the look on his face. "look who showed up." lando whispered as if the whole room didn’t see who came uninvited. you gotta be kidding me. carlos turned around to see where you were and his heart tightened when he saw the look on your face, pure sadness. anger took over him immediately, that son of a bitch made you sad on your special day. carlos wasn’t going to let that slide. the spaniard quickly made his way to neymar who was asking people about where you were. the driver roughly turned the brazilian around so he could face him. neymar was about to say something to the person who just interrupted him but he only rolled his eyes when he saw carlos.

"what do you want sainz? where is my girl?" he asked, looking over carlos’ shoulder. neymar looked very drunk. carlos could feel anger buildup inside of him. how dare he? "you’re in my house so, i’ll ask you once and once only, leave before i make you leave." carlos said through gritted teeth. neymar scoffed before taking a step closer to the spaniard, being almost forehead against forehead. "are you threatening me, hijo da puta?" carlos was about to respond when charles and lando quickly appeared to separate the two of them. "okay, it’s enough now boys." charles said trying to lighten the mood. "move! i’m not done with him!" neymar pushed charles away which made carlos even more mad. "listen here, little boy. first you steal my woman and then you disrespect me in front of all these people. you think i’ll let that slide, coño?" the brazilian added while pushing carlos with his finger. at this point there was nothing charles or lando could do to stop them. "let me clarify one thing, junior, she was never yours to begin with. and trust that now that she has tasted true love, she’s never leaving." carlos said with a smile, which made neymar go crazy. the footballer grabbed carlos’ collar. "you made her cry for weeks, you destroyed her completely, and now you dare to show your face and claiming her as your woman? how dare you call yourself a man and make the woman you’re supposed to love and cherish, cry?" the spaniard said before getting closer to neymar’s ear. "if you dare to even whisper her name in your sleep, i’ll come for you, neymar da silva santos junior."

neymar finally let go of carlos before leaving quickly. the driver was now concerned about where you were hiding. as he was looking at the crowd of people, who were still talking about what just happened, lando approached his friend. "she’s with luisa and charlotte, they’re on the balcony." carlos nodded before patting his friend’s shoulder as a thank you. he quickly made it to his balcony where the girls were talking, luisa noticed him and patted charlotte’s shoulder to tell her that they needed to go. carlos sent them a thankful smile before walking towards you. your back was facing him and you were too lost in your thoughts to even notice his presence. he gently hugged you from behind which made you jump before you recognised his fragrance. "carlos." you simply said. "yes, cielito, are you okay?" he asked, resting his chin on your shoulder. you sighed before looking up at the moon, shining on the both of you. "i guess? is he gone?" you asked with a small voice, feeling the tears threatening to fall again. "yes, for real this time." you frowned before turning around to face carlos.

you were still extremely close as his hands were on your waist and your hands on his chest. he looked ethereal under the moonlight. "carlos, what am i to you?" you finally asked the question you were scared to even ask yourself. carlos smiled before moving his face closer to you. "you’re the love of my life." and then he kissed your lips. he kissed you like you’ve always dreamed to be kissed. with love, respect and passion. carlos was the first one to break the kiss, he looked at you and replaced a wild strand of hair behind your ear. "none of this was fake to me, every word, every attention, everything was real to me."

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, charlottesiine and 1 789 007 others.

y/n: thank you everyone for all the birthdays wishes! and thanks to my amazing boyfriend for throwing this party for me. i love you to the moon and back, handsome and i thank god everyday for giving me the chance to be your girlfriend.

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taglist: @mjaudrey @champomiel @lorarri @watersquirtpewpewboomm @ndunad @shrimpyshrimp @gaviypedrisbride @little-angel-07 @ironmaiden1313 @leclerc16s @xjval @elijahslover @hearts4esmee @love4lando

thanks for the support 🤍🥹

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haruchi-slit · 5 days

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PRETTY RIBBONS 𐙚

ft. suguru, satoru, sukuna, yuki, choso & shoko

synopsis: reader asking the jjk characters if they can tie a bow on them | warnings: just fluff! + not proof read!

SUGURU: "wha-no...ok fine!"

"suguu can i put bows on you?" you asked getting suguru's attention from his laptop, "what?" he grumbles "can i put bows on youu!" you repeat, getting up from the couch, "baby i heard you the first time, but-" "pretty please suguuu~" you begged, giving him the prettiest doe eyes, with your hands pressing against each other, as you pout your lips, "ugh- fine.." he'd grunt, closing his laptop and putting it aside before pattering towards you, "reallyy? oh my gosh really!? i knew you couldn't resist this charm" you cackled, before running to your shared bedroom, you took the light pink roll of ribbon from your desk before running back to the living room, suguru sighed softly before he smiled "did you seriously bought that, just for this?" he laughed,

"what? noo i would never pfftt-"

"oh really, huh?" suguru chuckled as you uwrapped the plastic cover of the ribbon,

"do you even know how to tie a bow?" suguru asked "well duh of course i can!" you giggled cutting portions of the ribbon, "ok now get that comb and I'll yassify you" you'd playfully order suguru as he obliged "ai ai miss ma'am!" he took the comb from the table before coming back to you "here you go bae" he hands you the comb before sitting you on top of his lap, you ran your finger thru his silky smooth hair, tying the pink ribbons on him while he giggles as you talk about your life gossips, he just loved seeing his cute little girlfriend getting so worked up just for tying a bow on him, "voilá! suguu look in the mirror and rate it one to ten, yeah?" you excitedly hand him the mirror while you wait for his reaction, suguru looked at the mirror with cute bows adorned to his hair, perfectly tied and neat,

"it'd be a solid 12/10 bae!" he giggles and pulled you in for the sweetest kiss, "say: cheese!" you said before clicking the shutter button of the camera.

"your turn princess!"

SATORU: "I've been waiting for this moment!

it was a boring afternoon, just you and your precious boyfriend satoru who's laying on top of your chest while fidgeting your hair, as you scroll thru instagram reels, you came across a certain video where in a girl ties a ribbon around her boyfriend's biceps as the boyfriend flexed, curling his muscles causing the ribbon to rip and be torn apart, the background music played over and over getting satoru's attention,

"hey cutie, what are you watching?" satoru asked satoru jolts up, "just some random video, wait- satoru can we do thisss" you babbled showing him the video you've been watching for the past three minutes, while he was watching the video you saw him smile, his eyes glimmered like he was waiting for this moment to come,

"I've been waiting for you to say that!" he exclaims "let me just get my damn ribbons" you chuckled as you ran out the living room to grab some of your ribbons that you use for you hair, "ok im back grab my phone over there 'toru" you giggled while satoru gave you your phone, "flex them biceps baby!"

"your wish is my command" satoru laughs, flexing his biceps while you put a ribbon on it,

"you gotta break it when the beat drops ok?"

"ok!" he responds, you clicked the recording button of your phone recording satoru's bicep "i need to brethe some air" the music rang across your living room as the camera focuses on satoru, "cause you got me- so soaakkedd" satoru quickly flexed his bicep causing the ribbon to rip,

"oh goshhh 'toruuu"

SUKUNA: "if that makes you shut up.."

"i think bows would suit you" you giggled your skin brushing his, as you nuzzled to his beefy muscled arms, "what do you mean" he huffs, "like...you know those things i always put on my hair i think it would suit you.." you murmur feeling the heat from his body, making you feel safe and comfortable, "you know what can i put bows on you?" sukuna ignores you, "sukuu~" you coed, getting the curse's attention once again "please?" "no" he responds, "pretty please?"

"no" he repeats...

"come on now you old man, i ribbon won't hurt, right so pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"tsk, will you stop bickering if i grant you permission?" he grunts, raising one of his eyebrows, your eyes beamed with joy as you nod your head profusely, "then, go on" he coes you blinked twice, "huh?"

"i said go on and tie bows on me..." he sighs in defeat, the king of curses was no match to his loving wife...

"suku lean down, pleasee" you asked him, as he obliged, you took some ribbons off, of your kimono, using it as a ribbon to tie on sukuna's hair, as you tie it on his hair, his oversized hands supports you to stand still on the stool you're standing on, one of his hand placed on your waist, as you talk about your past haircuts and why you do not or like them, while sukuna listens, "and just a few more touches here and...you're done!" you chuckled as you stare at him so lovingly,

"oh wait, i still have one left!", you gasped as you slowly get off the stool with sukuna supporting your body, "suku, give me one of your four hands", "why?" "hurryyy!" you command as sukuna rolls his eyes and obliged once again, he swiftly whips one of his hand out off his kimono placing it infront of you, "yeyy!" you exclaimed, before you tied the last red ribbon tou had around his wrist... sukuna admired the ribbon on his wrist and hair, "this is so childish...but, it's not that bad" he says, before pulling you in for a kiss on the forehead, "my lord the visitors-..." uraume

paused as soon as they entered the room, sukuna turns to them with ribbons on his hair, "what is it, uraume?",

"the visitors has arrived..."

YUKI: "you can do what ever you want as long as you're happy"

you and your girlfriend yuki are on the garage in a sunny afternoon, just you eating ice cream sitting close to her and, her fixing something in her motorcycle, your eyes wonder on her garage, you stood up to stroll around since your legs are getting cramped.

you stroll around her garage but you were stopped when you found a unopened roll of ribbon, placed in a box that looks like she's about to throw away, you quickly picked it up and brought it to your sit, "yuki" you chimed, getting her attention from her motorcycle, "hey, you need something?" she says, as she used a towel to wipe the grease off her hands,

"look what i found!" you mused, smiling so lovingly as yuki stares at you with a soft demeanor, "i was about to throw that away cause i don't know where to use it..." she laughs-

"you can have it if you want!" she offers, you gasped, "y'know what i got an idea!", you opened the roll of white ribbon, "jus' gimme a sec!" you giggled as you cut even portions of the ribbon with the scissors you found beside you,

"m'kay princess" she chuckles as she walks up to you, "what's your plan, huh?" she chortles as she waves her eyebrows, "'n done! give me your bicep!" you asked, "y'know i saw in social media" you start, "and i jus' wanna see if it'll suit you-" you paused, as you tied the last knot on yuki's bicep,"tadaaa~" "it's so cute" she scoffs, with a blush spreading across her plush cheeks,

"can i also put bows on you motorcycle?" you asked, "of course you can baby..." "really?" you asked "really!" she responds, pulling you into a kiss..

SHOKO: "my fiance did it"

an early morning starts as you and your fiance start your day, a sunlight bounces on your face from the window, your eyes flutter open as shoko was no where to be found, you guessed that she's in the kitchen, making breakfast for the both of you and, you were right

" 'morning sleepy princess" she greets you as she hands you a cup of coffee, "thank you, and good morning to you too!" you respond as you took the cup of coffee from the table, "I'm going to take a shower now be right back" she said.

she comes out of the bathroom with her classic go to outfit for work, a turtle neck and some jeans, "shokoo let me do your hair, pleasee!" you spoke, "sure girl, just let me blow dry my hair ok?"

"oookkkeyy!" you hummed, as soon as she dried her hair she went straight to you, "sit down now m'lady...hehe-" you chuckled "and also can i put bows on you?" you add, "I can't see why not...do what you need to do" she giggles.

you combed her soft silky hair, your fingers running across her hair "you're on day-off right?" "mhmm" you hummed as you focused on tying her hair,

"is it too tight? do i need to loosen it a bit?" you asked as you put a ribbon on top of the hair tie attached to her hair, "nope, nope it's all good princess" she uttered "you can look on the mirror now!" you add, "it looks cute haha!" she chuckles "I'm gonna get to work now-" she stood up kissing you on the cheek and lips, "I'll see you later ok? i love you!" she spoke, kissing you once more, "okay, byeee see you later" you bid your goodbye as you watched her grab her tote bag, she waves at you and head out...

when shoko arrived at the jujutsu tech she was greeted by utahime, "shokoo! how are you?" "im good, long time no see.." she responds "yeah long time no see, i like your hairstyle!" utahime giggles "thanks, my fiance did it for me"

-the hairstyle-

CHOSO: "we're matching now!"

"choo! we should try riding the ferris wheel!" you exclaimed as you point your finger on the ferris wheel nearby, you and choso are on a date in the amusement park, "let's go now quickly!" he responds, as he took your hand to ran for the line of the ferris wheel, both of you were laughing non-stop once you reached the front of the line, "i almost tripped!" you giggled "you were too slow that's why" he jested, "two tickets, please.." he utters to the clerk in charge on the tickets, "here you go sir.." the clerk hands choso the tickets before the two of you were allowed in, choso gave the tickets to the other employee and then they let the two of you in.

when the two of you are on the ferris wheel, you both sat down immediately, "it's getting dark..." you babbled, "it is getting dark, I'm having fun today!" he said looking thru your eyes, his dark brown eyes orbs piercing yours, "you look so beautiful-" he paused, tucking your hair behind your ear, "with those purple ribbons" he faltered, "thank you, choso I'm also having fun today" you murmured as you felt your cheeks burn from how smooth his words,

"y-y'know i wonder how you'll look with these ribbons" your words slip, "can i tie a bow on you?" you inquired, making choso chuckle, "of course you can, so we can be matching!" he responds, "really?!" your repeat, as he nods his head profusely, "yes!", "ok let me just get one ribbon from my hair" you cackled, as you tug one of the ribbons on your hair, after successfully pulling one out youu quickly tied it around choso's hair, "you look so cute!!" you gagged in his cuteness "we are matching now!" he yelps, as your eyes locked on to each other, he pulls your cheeks for a kiss, you immediately melted with his touch as he fills your stomach with butterflies, a few moments later you hear fireworks being blown up to the air, as choso deepens the kiss, your hands lightly tugging on his hair, with his hands on your waist, he pulls away to catch a breath, your eyes shot open while catch your breath, his kiss was so intoxicating

"i love you.." whispers as the both of you watched the fire works up on the ferris wheel.

a/n: yey!

340 notes · View notes

fatesundress · 1 year

Text

⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this.

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same.

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it.

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction?

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet.

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner.

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party.

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten.

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again."

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him.

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins.

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks.

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them.

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did."

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.”

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything — is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting.

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers.

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient.

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still.

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in.

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him.

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x y/n #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #NO LONGER!#but it is only a two-parter sorry. this is it #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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marypaol · 13 days

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Strings And Knots

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: Reader makes a bracelet for Draco, and, surprisingly to her, it lasts throughout all their years of Hogwarts.

Warnings: Mention of death, war, murder, suffocation, air pollution, destruction, emotional/physical damage, but overall fluff! (Until the end it’s kinda sad but it ends quite well- just a sad mood.)

Note: I know I did the whole Divination thing wrong since they do it for every month but that’s okay. And I really love this one it’s gotta be in top five favorites! Maybe top three!

Masterlist

Request Requirements

One: The Making

Year: First

Her fingers worked carefully on the thread, the rough texture feeling slightly scratchy against her fingertips. Her hands were red and almost dry, twisting them together before pulling the knot up, securing it as it joined the design she was creating.

She wanted it to be perfect, despite her just learning about a week ago, but each day she practiced a bit and she could tell she was slowly improving.

She grumbled when the strings tangled together and she once again separated the colors. She could use magic, her wand sitting on her bed on top of her Charms and Potions book, but she made it her personal mission not to use the wand, for she wanted it to be made by her very hands, that way the finishing product would be much more meaningful; to her and to him.

Her fingers burned and the tips turned red as she tied the finishing knot at the bottom, taking a pair of scissors afterward and snipping the axis thread, the extra string flying off the once was connected bracelet and landing on her robes. This time she did use the wand, pointing them at the strands and made them disappear with a flick of the tip.

“Good, you’re here, look what Potter is doing, hanging around that giant again; honestly, how could you tolerate-what are you doing?”

She was half listening, her fingers focusing on tying the bracelet she made around Draco’s wrist. He made a face she didn’t see, taking his arm to his eyes once she was finished.

“What’s this rubbish?” He snarled, eyes looking disgustingly at the thread on his wrist. The girl rolled her eyes, being used to his on-the-daily-attitude.

“It’s not rubbish,” she protested. “It’s a bracelet. A friendship bracelet to be exact.”

Draco still didn’t wipe the disturbed look off his face, looking down at the thread with uncertainty.

“Look, I have one too; just switched colors.” She said, showing her own by pulling up her robe sleeve, hoping to assure him that out of the two of them he wasn’t the only one wearing a bracelet.

He looked at hers, something in his eyes that she couldn’t read. “Well? What does it mean?” He asked, still looking at the strands on his arm.

The girl shrugged even though the meaning of them meant everything to her. “It represents friendship. Ya ever heard of it?” She asked, a teasing glint in her eyes as she looked at him.

He scowled. “Of course I’ve heard of friendship. We are friends, aren’t we?”

She smiled. “Yeah, why do you think I made it for you?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Well I will admit I like being friends with you but I’m not sure about walking around with this on my wrist.”

The girl looked down at the bracelet she made herself, the strands not seeming so exciting and meaningful anymore, they seemed to be mocking her now, screaming at her that Draco wouldn’t want to wear some silly bracelet.

“Right…” She whispered, chest squeezing. Draco scoffed, leaning over and picking up her chin with his index finger. She looked at him, eyes uncertain and anxious.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t wear it- at least it matches my robes.” He stated, looking down at the green thread and then at the knitted badge of Slytherin on his chest, mouth twitching but she could tell it was his form of smiling. Her lips stretched wide, eyes sparkling. This time his grin broke, but it was small, nice and toothless.

Two: The Sighting

Year: Second

“Snape assigned another essay, I can’t believe it.” She complained with a light scowl in her voice, plopping her books down on the table beside the fireplace, sitting down on the emerald green couch, the surface silky beneath the skin of her hands. Draco grumbled in agreement to her protests, eyes scanning the paper of the Daily Prophet. She always thought it was interesting, him being so young and reading all those kind of grown up things about the Ministry. But it came with an upside: she could always get updates from him about what was currently going on in the Wizarding world. She leaned forward, finger tapping his knee lightly.

“Anything good today?” She asked, neck craning to meet his face behind the stack of papers, moving pictures all around the pages. He shook his head, folding the Prophet up carefully before throwing it onto the table, right next to her textbooks.

“No,” He replied. “And I bet there is, just wait till my father tells me. And that Chamber, he never tells me anything these days.”

It was her turn to agree with a complaint between the two of them.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do, right?” She tried to assure, but Draco wasn’t one for the ‘look on the bright side’ pep talk. She always knew that, but what she also knew was that it was worth a try.

“I wish there was something I could do.” Draco snarled, lips twitching irritably. She smiled lightly, getting off the couch and sitting the floor, pulling her parchment out with a quill and ink bottle.

“How ‘bout that essay, mm?” She hummed, voice smooth and he nodded, still looking like his head wasn’t with her. She watched him as he looked at of the window for a moment, the tallest one in the Common Room, the evening sun providing a warm glow to the space. His hand went to his head, lightly scratching his ear, when she then noticed the worn out thread on his wrist, green and slightly dirty, displaying its age. She smiled. “You’re wearing it.” She noted, and watched as his head snapped to her, eyes moving from the knotted strings to her face.

“Well we are friends, aren’t we?” He replied like it was a silly observation, shrugging half-heartedly but something brewed in her chest as he joined her, getting his things out for the essay they were about to write. It was something her young self wouldn’t be able to recognize, but it was similar to when her mother smiled at her in the morning, or how her father kissed her hair before leaving for work.

Her older self would know, oh yes, and that older mature young lady would call it love.

Three: The Teasing

Year: Third

“No.” Draco’s voice burst out as she hovered a very reactive ingredient over the cauldron, the potion brewing inside just the right temperature for him to add the alligator heart, dropping a few chunks inside. She grimaced in disgust.

“I was joking.” She then insisted.

“No you weren’t.” He instantly said, looking at her as a way to say “try me”.

She snorted, cutting up an herb he gave her. “I wasn’t actually gonna do it.” She tried to convince, yet he wouldn’t take her excuses, shaking his head.

“Yes you would; then we would end up like Seamus.” Draco responded and she chuckled, looking down at the herbs again so she failed to notice the soft smile on his lips.

“Got a friend, Malfoy? Who’s the lucky person?” Pansy’s voice suddenly broke out, and, the two Slytherins turning to her, saw her long skinny finger pointing at Draco’s wrist, a teasing glint on her face. Draco scowled at her, shooting her daggers with his grey eyes.

“Shut up Parkinson.” He spat, and she shut right up, cheeks flushing. “Not like you have any friends, bet you wish you did, don’t you?”

Pansy’s eyes glossed over but neither of them seemed to take care to it, yet the girl felt a small, very small I tell you, peck of empathy.

Pansy dismissed herself from the classroom right then, crying her eyes out.

The girl turned to Draco. “You didn’t have to be so harsh, ya know.” She whispered. She saw him look at her.

“Yeah I did. Surprised she didn’t say anything about yours.” He said softly, nudging her wrist that had the thread on it.

The girl scoffed quietly. “I’m a girl, it’s normal for us to have silly jewelry on.”

Draco’s pale eyebrow shot up. “‘Silly jewelry’?” He quoted. “So our friendship is silly now?”

The girl felt a pinch of regret hit her. She quickly shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He still had an absence of a frown on his lips, but he believed the reassurance that she provided when she gave him a kind apologetic smile.

“Good.” She heard him mutter, most likely for her to not hear, but she thanked Merlin her ears picked up on it.

Four: The Admiring

Year: Forth

The Divination book was open in front of her, propped up against her bag that was lazily thrown on the table moments prior. The usual presence of Draco wasn’t met, since she was keeping herself busy while he attended Quidditch practice. The sun was still shining, though it was evening and after supper, through the green see-through curtains.

The Professor wanted them to write predictions on how their future would go, and all she came up with was that she would “experience a heart warming moment” and that “something she dearly loved would break”.

Her eyebrows were furrowed tightly, and just when she about decided to start making them up, the Common Room entrance opened, a certain platinum blonde coming into view, broomstick hung over his shoulder. His face was twisted with exhaustion, yet once his eyes met hers she saw a different expression in his eyes, relief perhaps, for she often didn’t know how to read his eyes, despite them being friends for four years.

He blooped down across from her, next to her bag so he was still in sight. His hand was now dug into his hair, eyes fluttering but he still was able to look at her. She stared longer than she should’ve, but the sight was too warming to her chest, watching his tired eyes gaze upon hers with such softness no one would ever be able to see but her.

She had her right arm on the table, flipping through the pages of the book with her other hand.

“Divination?” Draco asked, peering over at the work she had done. She nodded, and at that moment she yawn came over her.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m about to start making it up at this point.”

Draco chuckled, reaching up and lazily rubbing his eye. “Agreed; kinda stupid really.”

She nodded once again, starting to get too tired to talk. She scanned the page that was open in front of her, spotting the sentence “you will witness a break up between two strangers” and thought that was good enough. The other predictions spoke to her but this one didn’t seem to do such, for she was at that point picking random ones out to write down. She was focused on writing, so such so that she didn’t notice Draco lay his arm down, close to her hand but the skin wasn’t close enough to brush. She also didn’t notice his grey eyes moving from his wrist to hers, the matching thread being admired scanned with his eyes.

She looked up them, feeling his finger tips brush her robe sleeve, and she met his eyes.

“What are you looking at?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing only to curve even deeper than before when he quickly responded, a little too quickly.

“Nothing.” He said shortly, taking his arm back. She held a confused expression but didn’t pry on the subject.

“Can we go to bed now?” He asked abruptly, trying to change the topic of conversation. She hummed, packing up her now finished work and putting it in her bag. She stood up, about to grab the bag when Draco beat her to it, his pale hand gripping the strap.

“Thanks.” She muttered, suddenly feeling a small flush appear over her cheeks.

“For what?” He asked, confused, like he didn’t know he just did a kind deed.

She scoffed at how oblivious he was. “For carrying my bag. You don’t have to do that.”

It was his turn to scoff, lips twitching in slight annoyance. “Well we are friends, aren’t we?”

Five: The Breaking

Year: Fifth

The Hogwarts Express seemed to vibrate underneath her, the engine coming to life as it was ready to ride on. Everyone was excited for the upcoming year, happiness flooding their features and chests.

She, however, grew worried when she didn’t have the usual company of her friend, not having seeing him yet. She didn’t spot him in the platform or while she was walking along the hallways of the train, going to their usual compartment. She was thinking he went with his other friends, perhaps he wanted to catch up with them.

But she couldn’t help but feel a little hurt, since he always at least met her before each year, in the same seats on the same train in the same compartment. Why was it different this year?

She looked out the window, miraculously thinking maybe he was running along the train’s side, yelling for it to stop so he could catch up. But of course that wouldn’t happen since the boy was always on time, so he must be on the train, just not with her.

The compartment door opened abruptly, causing her head to snap in the direction of the noise. Draco stood there, in a black suit, black tie, and black shoes. He strolled over to the seat and sat across from her, leaning his hands on the table in front of him. This all happened just in time as the train started churning, wheels turning and gaining speed as it headed off to the school.

“Where have you been?” She asked, unable to hide the worry in her voice.

“I was looking for something.” He answered simply, looking a little irritated.

“For what, exactly?” She asked, getting annoyed as well, the irritation brewing in her chest as he once again left her with no answers.

“I was looking for this.” He said sharply. He had slapped something on the table for her to see, the green thread immediately recognizable between his fingers. It was the same as it has always been, dirty as it went through the years but the knots stayed true. The only thing was that the bottom was broken, the knot becoming undone.

“Can’t wear it if it’s broken, right?”

She was half listening, still gazing at the strings that were on the table. She grabbed it gently between her fingers, caressing it like a baby and analyzed the damage.

“It fell off on my way here.” He explained, kind of annoyed that it did such thing at such an inconvenient time.

“I can fix it.” She said quietly, surprised he still possessed it. “I just can’t believe you still have it.”

“What, you don’t have yours?” He asked, looking a little hurt beneath the annoyance that she’s so surprised at that occurrence.

“Of course I do,” she started, and missed his eyes going to her arm to see if it was there, and she was telling the truth. “I just didn’t think you’d-“

Draco groaned, rubbing his head with his hand and looking at the window, grey eyes reflecting the sun’s warmth. “We are friends, aren’t we? Honestly…”

She looked down at the bracelet, the knots worn down and dirty, but the meaning stood true. She didn’t know what it was, but somehow her mind went back to her Forth Year, working on her Divination homework, and writing down “something she dearly loved would break.”

She supposed her made up predictions weren’t made up after all.

Six: The Decision

Year: Sixth

“This is stupid.” Draco’s voice blurted shortly, looking down at the homework in front of him, the essay’s words seeming to combine in his mind, creating an annoying jumble of ink.

“I know, but Slughorn insisted.” She reminded, causing his silver eyes to roll in the back of his head. He quill lazily sat on his hands, twirling it mindlessly out of boredom.

She noticed his robe sleeve rolled up at the action, wrist muscles twitching and moving as his fingers worked the quill.

The bracelet made of thread was not only repaired but still sitting on his wrist as good as ever, the green shining the meaning of it. Just looking at his made the feeling of her own on her skin a lot more noticeable, heart warming at the sight.

“Do you want me to make you a new one?” She asked, and when he turned to her she gestured to the strands that were getting older by the day.

His eyebrows furrowed deeply, displaying large amounts of confusion. “New one? Certainly not.” He replied. “This one’s just fine; don’t know what you’d think that, really.”

She smiled soft but it was unsure. “You sure? Cause I was thinking about making myself a new one.”

Draco scoffed but looked a little frustrated. “Scared of a little dirt?”

“No.” She replied. Draco then nodded towards her wrist.

“Then it stays. Mine’s as old as yours.”

Seven: The Pulling

Year: Seventh

The air was musty, ash seeping the air, suffocating the lungs of beings who breathed it in. Of course no one cared at the moment; the air pollution the last thing on their minds. The living breathing representation of evil was standing in front of them, laughing like what was happening was his dream come true. Because, realistically, it was. Deaths, damage, emotional and physical, destruction, all of it was part of his dream. To end it all and face the boy who lived, and all for what. Just so he can kill the boy who he was trying to murder ever since he was a baby?

It wasn’t that the girl was paying much attention as the living evil spoke, too busy staring at the ground that inc held healthy green grass, grass that her and Draco used to pick at while they complained about classes they had that day. Or any day for that matter. Sometimes his long skinny fingers would dig into her sides, wiggling until he heard the sound of her laughter, something he may never hear again because of the cold voice calling him.

His mother. His father. The living evil.

He stepped forward, ready to leave the cruelty of his peers and the burning stares he just knew where there. His head swam with so many emotions but he didn’t have time to look them through, just focusing on walking to the other side, the other side where evil doings were being performed. The other side that he didn’t have a choice but to be on.

He was gonna go, he really was, despite the soft tug he felt on his wrist, and, looking down, saw her index finger hooked underneath the thread of his bracelet as she pulled, the knots begging him to stay along with the maker of them. He met her eyes despite the emotions crashing his rib cage, threatening to get to his heart, but he held the gaze all the same.

“Stay.” She said softly, eyes swirling, knowing all those years with him weren’t for nothing. She didn’t last all those times with him as a child or teenager just for him to walk away.

“Why.” He muttered back, voice dry as ever so much so that he felt like his throat was filled with sand and he was speaking through the tiny rocks. She answered with a small smile, something so small making him plant his feet on the ground, making him stay away didn’t the living evil on the other side….making him have a choice.

“Well, we are friends, aren’t we?”

#imagines #stories #x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #tom felton x reader

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fics-and-quotes-andthelike · 1 month

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The Makeover and The Makeup

Title: The Makeover and The Makeup

Pairing: Angel Dust x reader (Platonic), Alastor x reader (mentioned)

Word Count: ~1,369

In which Angel Dust and the reader get into a fight in the middle of a makeover session.

A/N: Part 3 of the Never and Always series. It’s super short, but I still hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of Val, mentions of de*th, Angel being suggestive, ooc Angel maybe

When you had first struck a deal with the Vees, they had treated you with something that had almost resembled kindness. They had showered you in compliments and praise, feeding you false promises and empty words of endearment.

It lasted for two days.

After that, you were fair game. Fresh meat. A new toy for all three Vees to poke and prod at while you did their bidding.

But then came your knight in blood red armor, holding his cane in one hand and smiling broadly as he greeted you with a kiss to your knuckle for the first time.

You had stuck to Alastor’s side ever since.

But although you were more than grateful for his rescue, you couldn’t help but continue to feel a little alone. Alastor had saved you, yes, and he kept you by his side, of course, but he wasn’t exactly one to share feelings or stories.

He did, however, listen to yours.

After you had shared a particularly brutal story having to do with a certain moth demon, Alastor had come to a quick decision and swept you away to the Hazbin Hotel.

When you arrived, you had found a group of souls that were just as broken as you were.

Especially Angel Dust.

While your brief time with the Vees was nothing compared to Angel’s ongoing experience with Valentino, he seemed to appreciate that you had some semblance of understanding about what it meant to be Valentino’s target.

Meanwhile, you were just happy to find that you weren’t the only soul foolish enough to fall for the moth demon’s charms.

Ever since the two of you had found out about your shared past, Angel had practically taken you under his wing. He introduced you to Cherri Bomb, invited you when he was high strung and needed to go out, and confided in you when he had a rough day at work.

You had done the same, telling your stories about the Vees and your life Before and sharing your feelings.

The last point, though, you were beginning to regret.

“So he killed a guy for you, huh?” Angel asked as he circled you, admiring his handiwork.

“That’s not what I said,” you protested as you looked at your reflection in Angel’s full-length mirror.

Angel stopped walking and raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. “You really think Smiles left the guy alive? C’mon, dollface, you ain’t that naive, are ya?”

You flushed and looked down.

“That’s what I thought,” Angel said, smugness coating his words as he began walking once again.

You looked back up and glared at him through the mirror. “You know, when I said you could give me a makeover, I didn’t mean I was going to be your personal dress-up doll. This is the fifth outfit.”

Angel stopped beside you, draping his arm over your shoulders and leaning into you as he admired his work in the mirror. “You knew what you were gettin’ into, sweet cheeks. Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

You did love it. It was fun to let your guard down for a few hours and allow Angel Dust to release his creative energy. Not that you would ever say so to his face, of course.

“Besides,” Angel continued as he wandered away from you and towards his closet, rifling through the many options. “Your first official date with Mista Creepy was a hit, right? We’ve gotta change up your style a bit if you wanna get some,” he said with a wink in your direction.

Your eyes widened. “That is not what I’m trying to do,” you hissed. “Alastor is my friend.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure.”

“He is,” you insisted. “He’s been nothing but sweet to me, and I’m not going to ruin the friendship that we’ve built.”

You tried not to notice Angel’s grimace in the mirror. It was a lot harder to pretend, though, when he turned around with an uncertain expression on his face, holding a dress to his chest and avoiding eye contact.

“Look,” he said hesitantly. “I know he seems…”

“Kind.”

“Right,” Angel said, scratching the back of his head. “But I’ve been talkin’ to Husk. About you and Smiles. He says you should be careful.”

You couldn’t fight back the burst of anger that rose in your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Angel’s eyes widened as he held up his two free hands in surrender. “I ain’t sayin’ you gotta stop talkin’ to the guy. I’m just saying-”

“You don’t know him,” you interjected, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t know anything about him. I know he’s an Overlord, but he’s sweet and he’s kind, and he’s never done anything to hurt me. He would never hurt anyone.”

You realized your mistake as soon as the words left your lips. It was foolish of you to forget. Alastor was your friend, of course, but he was also an Overlord. One of the most powerful Overlords that Hell had ever seen.

There was a fire in Angel’s eyes as he leaned towards you. “He already has. He’s done it to all those other souls he owns, and he’s done it to Husk. I know you love ‘im, but he ain’t a good guy.”

You spluttered and stepped back, trying to ignore the blush that coated your cheeks. “I didn’t say I loved him.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You didn’t have to. I see how you look at him. It’s the same way I looked at Val before-” he stopped, looking down and away from you, shielding his gaze.

You felt your anger seep away as quickly as it had appeared. How could you have been so blind? Of course this situation felt familiar to Angel. You were a fool for not noticing any sooner. A fool, and a horrible friend.

Angel looked up, finally meeting your eyes. “I just don’t want you ta get hurt.”

You understood exactly what he was saying, of course. Alastor owned Husk’s soul, and despite never taking advantage of that fact when you were around, you had heard some of the stories from Angel. It only made sense that your friend was trying to warn you now. Someone he loved was already at the mercy of the Radio Demon. Of course he would do anything he could to protect you from the same fate.

You nodded, looking down. “I know,” you said quietly.

You stepped forward then, wrapping your arms around the spider demon and squeezing tightly. “Thank you. For looking after me.”

For a moment, you received no response. Then, you heard the rustle of fabric as Angel dropped the dress that he was holding onto the floor, wrapping four of his arms around you and pulling you close. “That’s my job, toots,” he said quietly.

You held each other, a silent promise passing in between you as you gripped each other with all of the strength you could muster.

Finally, you stepped back, reaching out and grabbing two of Angel’s hands. You pressed them to your lips, one at a time, before looking up with a soft smile.

“I hope I didn’t ruin the makeover,” you said with a gleam in your eye.

Angel grinned, reaching up with one of his free hands to ruffle your hair. “Not at all, sweet cheeks. Let’s get this show on the road.”

~~~

When Husk found the two of you later that day after searching for his usual drinking partner, he didn’t find two demons smiling together as they dressed up and pretended for a few hours that the rest of Hell didn’t exist.

Instead, he found two wayward souls on the ground, half dressed and half asleep, leaning against each other as they spoke in a way that only the closest of friends could.

They looked over at him, smiling and beckoning him closer, and drawing him onto the floor with them, where they spoke until sleep finally wrapped its kind arms around them.

They were still in the hotel, of course, but for the first time in a long time, these three souls finally felt like they were home.

A/N 2: Another part with more Alastor x reader is coming soon, it’ll be a continuation of A Dance in Death!! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx @maybememoriesx @martinys-world @miyu-kii @axellovesalastor @mo-0-o

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izvmimi · 2 months

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cw: canon deviation. time-skip (post demon slaying). babies. fem!reader.

“And what are you looking at?”

Genya is known for how intimidating he can be, but the round-cheeked, giggling child held at eye level between his hands right now will never see anything other than a loving father no matter how intensely he pretends to glare at him. The giggly ball of dough, practically hairless still despite nearly three months and a half in the world, kicks its feet and Genya smiles, helplessly charmed, before blowing a raspberry into his cheek and lowering him into his lap.

“Those Shinaguzawa family genes are no joke,” your friend jokes. She’s been watching the baby carefully for the past few minutes since she and Tanjiro entered the home, bearing gifts of cloth diapers and handmade quilt blankets, among other soft things. Genya is quickly defensive, reminding her for the nth time that your son has your nose, but you laugh to dispel the tension. After all, she’s right. The baby’s eyes are practically the same as his father's and his uncle's, although when he smiles ear to ear, his eyes close like yours do.

“He looks just like his daddy,” you agree. You’re still setting your dining table for six and your friends have gotten up to help you pour tea for six, and collect plates of dorayaki, senbei and edamame to set at the table.

Sanemi chuckles, adjusting his sitting position on the tatami.

“I mean, I think we deserve that much,” he says, gruffly, as he supports himself. You know what he means, and nod solemnly without additional comment while his wife squeezes his shoulder before disappearing to follow you. Your friends have congratulated you after the birth of your first child multiple times, having taken turns assisting you right after delivery, but you haven’t seen them in a month or so, and adjusting to your new life has been rewarding but difficult. One of them fills your pantry with dried goods while the other scans the premises for anywhere that she can clean or reinforce. You thank them, a smile on your face.

“We’re doing great. Genya takes good care of me, don’t worry,” you remind them, and they have no problems believing it.

Your baby thankfully isn’t fussy, and Genya is a surprisingly adept father, quick to learn the basics of bottle feeding and diapering, and making sure your house is clean and comfortable to live in. Living in relative poverty as a child made him work hard and be frugal, experiencing tragedy made him thoughtful and protective, and he does his absolute best to take care of you.

He’d always promised to take care of you as long as you both lived.

When you return to the entertainment room, your friends and you settling next to the men you’ve chosen, you lay your head on Genya’s shoulder, thankful that he’s the one that you chose, and he chose you just the same.

…

Sanemi and his wife stay the night, and once everyone has turned in from the night and your son is sleeping peacefully in his bassinet, you lay in bed, wrapped warm in Genya’s arms.

“We need a nephew or niece of our own, don’t you think?” you muse. “Gotta get them in the sack faster before they can’t catch up to us.”

Genya snorts, pressing his chin on the soft of your shoulder as he holds you closer.

“That’s their business,” he murmurs, gruffly. “By the way, tell your friend to stop calling our kid ‘tofu’.”

You giggle. “Has it been bothering you?”

“Yes or I wouldn’t be bringing it up right now.”

“I think it’s cute,” you tease, turning in his hold. He’s surprised by the sudden movement, you can tell, by the red in your cheeks. “What?”

Genya blinks, then kisses your forehead. “Nothing.”

“Is something on my face?” you ask.

“No. You’re beautiful.” You beam at this, then pull the covers tighter around your body.

“You’re a good dad, Genya,” you remind him. You’re not sure that he needs to hear it, but you want to reassure him. He’s heard tip after tip from his older brother today and you overheard Sanemi telling him his mother would be proud of him. You hope it sinks in because she would, and you wonder if he’s still mulling over the thought.

The sweet child nicknamed ‘tofu’ to his father’s chagrin sleeps through the night with parents that love him more than anything on earth, because they love each other more than life itself.

#genya shinazugawa x reader #genya x reader #genya x reader fluff #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #daydreams: kny #mimi's notes

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bearw-me · 2 months

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Hiiii!!! Would you mind doing headcannons / a fanfic where Husk has a crush on the reader and one day they ask him if they could cover being a bartender for a while to give him a small break (and to chat with Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb bc they are sitting at the bar too) and he agrees, not thinking that they would actually be able to make any drink or anything, but they actually end up being a phenomenal bartender (yet has never told or shown anyone until now), and it make him flustered as he has an even bigger crush on them now (which he thought was literally impossible). Thank youuuu!!!! 💖💖💖 (Also I love ur work 💖✨)

I cant describe in words how your request made me feel lmao! and thank you so much! ( i could talk about this dynamic all day ♡♡♡

𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐰 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐔𝐩 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞

𐐒 includes : husk x gender neutral! reader, cherri bomb, angel dust 𐐒 cw : drinking/mentions of drinking, swearing, fluff, mutual pining, reader and husk are flirting so hard smh 𐐒 summary : Husk could use a break from the bar, so you offer to take up the job for the rest of the night! 𐐒 word count : 1.7 k 𐐒 note : ah, husk + his drinks (guys! husk! with a bartender! is!) my heart is liquid now

The night sure was lively now that Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb came (literally) crashing through the front door.

You smiled, resting your head in your hands as you watched the two from the end of the bar. "Those two must be a handful for you," you teased, letting your eyes flit over to the grumpy old cat you adored.

He managed a smile, glancing over at the two who were downing shots like tomorrow didn't exist. "Yes they are," he mumbled.

"So why'd you come over here Whiskers? You know I'm still working on my drink."

"You know I gotta keep my customer's satisfied," his voice teased back- just as smooth as the whiskey he poured- how charming, you thought. "Can't leave you here all by yourself."

You nodded, feeling a blush creep over the tips of your ears and nose.

Although, you couldn't help but notice. . .

Husk, the charming gambling cat who bartended for the hotel, a cat you could've sworn- or hoped- wanted your attention most nights. . . stared at the pair across the bars edge with a tired eye.

You quietly followed his gaze, humming as you pondered the next move.

"Why don't you pour yourself a drink? On me," you slid your card over the polished wood, only to be stopped as soon as it hit the edge of the bar. Husk's fingers pushing gently against yours.

"It's bad luck for a bartender to drink on the job."

"Is that so? Sounds like superstition," you teased, sadly tucking the card into your pocket.

Doesn't usually stop him from doing it, you moped.

"Hey baby! You can buy me a drink, no strings of course!" Angel called over to you, bringing shameless attention to his chest and biting his lip.

The bar laughed with him, spirits deliciously high tonight now that the couple had joined.

You were glad for the change of pace, "You know what?" You pulled the card out again, raising three fingers so that Husk knew how much to pour "I will buy you that drink Angel."

Cherri and Angel celebrated by downing a shot each, the young overlord herself yelling into the air with glee at the score.

Your gaze lingered over to the two, the sounds of vodka and juice being poured next to you. "Husk?" you asked, not really turning to look at him.

"What's on your mind?"

You waited until the sounds of pouring stopped, little freckles of juice sticking to your hand. . . then you turned to him, a little unsure in what you were asking "This drinks for you."

With a gentle hand, you tried to stop him from sliding it over to you, and responded just as fast as his denial "Let me run the bar for the rest of the night!"

His confusion morphed into the classic doubtful Husk you knew: always keeping his guard up.

"Oh really," he rasped, leaning over the bar to hover right next to your face.

Maybe he was trying to intimidate you, or try to see through you. . . but you tried not to flinch at the challenge, watching his dark eyes narrow "And what do you get out of this?"

You shrugged, a dumb smile popping onto your lips "Time to sober up? How hard could it be?" you purred, relishing in the fact that Husk had recoiled from you.

Sitting across the bar, head cradled in your hands, smirking at him.

He sighed, letting his eyes roll "Alright, fine but-"

Before his sentence even finished, you were right next to him at the back of the bar, staring with a pep in your step at all of the liquors, juices, and garnishes he actually had back here.

"Hey I didn't say you could-"

"Sorry Husk," you pushed him out of the area, feeling a little unwelcome or foreign on this side of the bar.

I mean, you both did, but it wasn't an entirely bad feeling-yet.

"Heyy, the old kitty came to play with us!" Cherri teased, watching as Husk awkwardly took a seat next to the two.

"Finally!" Angel groaned, throwing an arm over Husk and pulling him into the fun.

"On second thought, I don't think this was a good idea," Husk unfurled himself from Angel's grasp.

"Come on Husk, you deserve a break!" Angel insisted.

"Yes! Here are the shots!" You laid the three previously poured shots onto the countertop, eagerly watching as Cherri and Angel picked theirs up, waiting for Husk to join them.

The old cat eyed the shot, the red liquid glimmering quite nicely against the bars wood-top, and back the the pair of smiling faces that awaited him "Fuck it, I could use a drink."

When he smiled, you felt it like your own, proudly watching as the unlikely trio threw the drinks back with a hiss.

"So, what'll it be guys?"

Cherri sighed, slinking over the bar with a devilish grin "Hate 'ta hound ya on your first day, but what can you make?"

You shrugged, the confidence of being behind the bar (and the previous drink you had) voiding any concerns or anxieties you would've had. "What kind of drinks were you thinking?"

"More fucking shots bitch!"

You smiled "Dirty hookers, jagerbombs, lemon drop shots. . . maybe a kamikaze?"

"Oh~" Cherri put a hand on her chest, feigning flattery, "Fucking all of 'em! And throw in a few snake bites for me!"

"Just the dirty hookers for me, doll."

The pair of deviants giggled, marveling at the bars newest bartender and talking to each other whilst you familiarized yourself with Husks' bar.

He keeps it well stocked, you thought. Speaking of which. . .

As you rummaged around for the appropriate bottles, you could feel a familiar burning at the back of your neck.

Husk was staring at you.

You blushed, trying not to make eye contact by busying yourself with this new found task. "What's with the face, Whiskers?"

You heard him grunt, "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You an alcoholic or something?" he clarified, the sound of him running his empty shot glass against the table lying underneath Cherri and Angel's conversation.

You hummed, not really answering until you had everything set on the bar. Five shot glasses on either side, you took the two bottles in hand flipping them upside down with a smile.

The three watched with amusement as you flipped one bottle high up, counting in your head the number of ounces you were pouring with the other while catching the bottle just in time.

Husks stomach was doing flips, watching on with a mix of anxiety that you'd break something (or god forbid hurt yourself) and the fact that you were actually. . . laughing.

The alcohol in your hands, whiskey, rum, vodka- anything- flying between your hands with the debonaire smile on your face.

Every movement, every flip, every spin. It all looked-

Husk caught himself, throwing his gaze to the side and moping. Trying hard not to think about anything.

"Here you go!" You slid the shots over to the pair, sure that it'd keep them busy for a while. . . or at least a few minutes.

"So what'll it be, boss?" You leaned over the counter, solely focused on him now, with that smug smile on your face. . . or maybe you were still a little tipsy.

"Boss?"

"Sure," you shrugged "Your gonna pay me after right?" You laughed when his face dropped, assuring him it was a joke. "Come on Husk, its time for you to be served for once, what kind of drink do you want?"

He seemed to freeze, the little pieces of fur on the back of his neck standing up like he was full of static. "Anything, I just need a drink," he said honestly.

Back to the same tired Husk, you smiled, chest filled with warmth. He looked, or he seemed. . . well you didn't actually know. Did he like that you were behind the bar?

You grabbed him a bottle of beer, easily wrenching the bottle cap off with the metal opener.

Husk took it into his hands faster than you could set it on the bar, tipping the bottle back so far that the dark green glass shone in the hotels light.

"I guessed you really could've used that drink," you sighed, feeling a little guilty for not doing him this favor sooner.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" Angel and Cherri caught on as Husk nursed his bottle to almost empty.

You smiled, albeit a little bittersweetly, and turned back to the bar in order to make him something you figured he'd like to try.

With new found 'confidence', Husk blearily eyed your back, a sinking, fluttery feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Watching you clean the glasses, something he did all the time, it looked. . . magnificent when you did it.

The night continued without a hitch.

You watched from behind the bar as the three laughed. Yes, Husk was laughing, bottle in hand and letting Angel Dust push him around playfully, daring the two of them to come gamble with him sometime.

It filled your heart completely, he looked really good with a smile on his face. . . And every now and then you'd catch him staring at you, almost as if he were proud.

To be fair, the thought almost made you fumble a cocktail you were making for Angel Dust.

"You know, your pretty good at this," he complimented you, in that glorious drunken heaven he was in. The quiet purrs coming from him was enough to convince you of that.

"Here," you offered, sliding a small silver tray with two shots and limes on it his way "on me."

He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound as fine as the drinks he served you. "No, I couldn't drink two-"

"This one's for me," you pointed, taking the slim glass between your fingers.

"Drinking on the job is bad luck," he slurred.

"Are you kidding me? This is the best luck I've ever had! Come on," you insisted.

Husk's face, while already burning from the alcohol, was flush with nerves, a little smile on his face from the feeling it gave him. "Thanks."

#hazbin hotel #imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel x you #husk x you #husk x reader #husk x y/n #gender neutral reader #reader insert #drinking

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paymechildsupport · 1 month

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I should have really been in bed five hours ago, but these leaks make me wanna commit heinous acts and I just gotta do something about this Sukuna pic cuz erm… just :3

He’s just so….. <3

EHEHEHHEHEHEHEH I don’t know what it is but the idea of having such a powerful, destructive man just down at my feet is so intoxicating jsjshdbdbdb

Just imagine his humongous form in your sheets in the latest hours of midnight— just an amalgamation of limbs on your bedspread

Drowsy and drunk off sleepiness, fighting off exhaustion in that soft cushiony state between consciousness with his big arms swallowing your much tinier body up, head on your chest

You’d absentmindedly run your fingers through his wolf hair, nails scraping his scalp in such a way to elicit tiny sounds of contentment

He in no way would be silent: bro will be sighing and huffing and even just purring occasionally,- exactly like an old cat or dog. You’d feel every noise vibrate, bouncing around in his large chest, pressed against your torso

The second you fall asleep and cease to shower him in affection he’d immediately get incredibly offended

He’d take it personally, and man’s can hold a NASTY GRUDGE (look what he’s doing to poor Yuji 😭)

He’d let out a rather audible, “hmph”, and make a show of pulling himself off of you, making sure he woke you up

“How dare you, pathetic mortal”

HE’D SULK

He’d be both very bluntly aggressive but also passive aggressive in every. Single. Thing.

He is entitled to your time, your attention, your affection, your every waking thought should be dedicated to him and him alone. He should be first priority over everything

JAJSJDBBDBS Y’know how in like superhero movies the villain sometimes has this really adorable cliché where they are this absolutely brutal, horrible monster whose committed numerous misdeeds but have a wife / spouse they treasure above all else? Like, they’ll be in the middle of explaining their plans of world domination when their wife all of a sudden calls out that dinner’s ready, — and then all of a sudden the villain is this esteemed gentleman who’s just really really excited to have some lasagna his darling wife made for dinner?? They really just wanna keep their spouse outta all the crime and such cuz they know they hate it and always get scolded for it.

yeah, that’s the only way I’ve been coping for these past leaks 🥶

Sukuna would be in the middle of nuking the map when all of a sudden you pull up

He’d be talking all high and mighty, saying how he’d obliterate and kill all of Yuji’s loved ones when suddenly he hears his name get called out and he’d just FREEZE.

“Quick, act like I didn’t just murder your closest kin like three minutes ago.”

”what? Why??”

“Because my spouse is here and they’ll actually skin me alive if they see me like this 😡—- hey honey ☺️ how’s it going..?”

Like tensing up, eyes bulging, lip quivering, sweating BULLETS, the most scared anyone’s ever seen him. Immediately dropping everything, disregarding the accumulating mass of cursed energy he’d been saving up for the past twenty minutes, to turn around and give you his best, most charming smile

You’d just walk up to him and like, grab him by the ear, yanking him down to your level to curse the ever living daylights outta him

“Stop going out and bullying teenagers 🤬 you miserable old man I swear—“

And he’d just stand there and TAKE IT. You’d scold him exactly like a disappointed mother, personally escorting him off the battlefield and profusely apologizing to Yuji for your husband’s actions

He’d just be all sad, walking away and dragging his feet, moping, back hunched, hand holding yours 😭🤏 and leaving an incredibly confused Yuji

And then you adopt Yuji and Sukuna stops being a grumpy old man and my boy gets his happily ever after and we all hug it out :3

#I NEED HIM #i need him so bad #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk oneshot #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #jjk spoilers #This truly is my jujutsu Kaisen #he’s so silly #he’s so pretty

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alloftheimaginesblog · 5 months

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nose in a book {bucky barnes}

plot: the coffee shop you and bucky frequent is also a library and every week, you have your nose in a new book.

request by sunflowerkitten2: a coffee shop meet-cute

character: reader x bucky barnes

In all of his years, Bucky Barnes had been to hundreds of coffee shops and had drank thousands of crappy cups of coffee but recently, he'd began to drink at this coffee shop. It was a small shop, half library half coffee shop with warm lighting and a nostalgic musky smell from the old books that adorned the shelves. There was a certain charm to it but the coffee certainly wasn't it. The coffee was actually pretty awful but there was a reason that Bucky kept coming back to this one.

The reason was you.

Each time Bucky came into the small shop, there you sat same time every Saturday morning, same time but always with a different book in your hand. From the first time Bucky entered that coffee shop, he was intrigued by you.

You were usually too concentrated on the book to look up at him when the chime of the door went as he walked in. Sometimes you caught each other's eye and exchanged friendly smiles but that was rare.

Bucky had never approached you, he wanted to but he wasn't that confident around asking beautiful people out anymore. He had changed a lot since the forties. Today though, the book you held in your hands was familiar to him... in fact it was one of his favourites; The Hobbit.

"You know," he said gently as he approached you, voice soft so's not to scare you, "I was there when they first printed that book."

With the comment, you expected it to be attached to a ninety year old man (which he was but you didn't know that yet) and instead you were met with the blue eyes of a very handsome thirty something year old. You laughed, "That's a rubbish pick up line," you teased.

Bucky frowned, "Not a pick up line, doll," he said, "I was actually there. 1937. What a year."

You blinked at him, insanely confused, before your foot pushed out the chair across from me, "Okay, I gotta hear this... How?"

He sat with a smile, reaching his hand across the table to shake yours, "Bucky Barnes, ma'am. Pleasure to meet you." Bucky... Barnes. That name sounded familiar.

Then it clicked.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with a little surprise as your shook his glove clad hand, "Oh my god, you look so good for your age." You hadn't meant to say that, it sounded pretty fucking weird but Bucky's face split into a wide grin. You were amusing. Usually, when people realised who Bucky was they recoiled with fear or at the very least they'd be apprehensive to talk to a ninety something assassin but you... you looked intrigued? He laughed, thanking you for the compliment that slipped out.

"Have you read Lord of the Rings?" You asked him with slightly warm cheeks.

It was his turn to be confused, "I don't think I've ever heard of them."

"Oh my god!" You gasped, "So obviously this is the Hobbit and this is a prequel to The Lord of the Rings which is hands down one of the best series ever written. They made movies of them too! It follows Bilbo's nephew, Frodo and his quest to destroy the Ring."

Bucky vaguely recalled Stark talking about movies that sounded similar to that title, "Are they any good?" He asked, genuinely curious, "To be honest, I've not seen many movies."

"They're so good. They made Hobbit movies too. Three."

He frowned, "Three movies? Did two more Hobbit books come out then?"

You shook your head, explaining that it was three movies centred around the one book, "I really liked them," you shrugged, "but is that because I just absolutely love the Hobbit? Who knows?"

As you and Bucky continued to chat you realised a very important fact, "I just realised I never told you my name," you said stopping mid sentence, "I'm (y/n). It's so nice to meet you, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, "Trust me, doll, pleasure's all mine... Now, can I buy you another cup of coffee?"

#one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #fic #os #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #avengers #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky #bucky barnes imagine #imagine

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newobsessionweekly · 2 months

Text

To protect and to love

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: You unintentionally make Tim jealous, resulting with nothing good but a confession.

Action | Angst | Fluff

A/N: It's a long one I know. But I HAD to put some action and angst in it, i couldn't help it. Honestly I love it and I love to write about Tim. I hope you like it as much as I do. Have a wonderful day bubs and take care of yourselves. Lots of love

Warning: Mention of hurting, one "fucking" slipped somewhere in this, not proofread yet.

Requested: Yes Words: 4.4k GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

The atmosphere in the bar was alive with the buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses as you settled in with your colleagues. It was one of the many nights you and the rookies met after a long shift. It was some bond between the four of you even since academy and it felt nice. They started to feel like a family to you.

As Nolan approached with three drinks in his hands, the fourth person occupied the chair beside you, making your mouth to open in surprise and your heart to race. Tim, looking so perfectly even out of his uniform, so casually in his clothes, wearing the same grumpy expression.

"Oh, sorry sir, didn't know you'd join us today." Nolan excused himself for ordering only three drinks.

"Yeah, didn't know I'd be here either." Tim murmured under his breath, giving you an acknowledging smile. After weeks of persuasions from both you and Lucy, he finally gave up.

"I'm glad you came." you told him as you turned to give him a smile. He did the same, but it wasn't a natural one.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. This isn't really my scene." Tim admitted sharply, the wave of adrenaline and excitement that flowed over you, broke as soon as his grumpy expression appeared.

"So, Tim, what do you usually do after work?" Lucy asked, flashing him a mischievous grin.

Tim shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "Usually just head home and catch up on some game I missed or hit the gym. Not really into the whole social scene."

"Come on, Tim, live a little!" Lucy chimed in, nudging him playfully. "You gotta let loose every once in a while."

You couldn't help but smile at the banter between your colleagues, grateful for the opportunity to spend time with them outside of the confines of work. But as you glanced over at Tim, you noticed a hint of tension in his behaviour, his jaw clenched slightly as he watched the scene unfold.

"So, Y/N, how's life as Tim's rookie treating you?" Nolan asked, turning to you with a grin.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "It's definitely been an adventure. Tim keeps me on my toes, that's for sure."

Despite being his rookie for some time now, you had never spent much time with Tim outside of work. But tonight was different, and you were determined to make the most of it.

Tim's gaze flickered to you, "If it's not a living hell, it means you have potential to become a good cop." you squinted at his words only for a few seconds before a sense of pride to wash over you as you smiled at him "But you're not there yet, so keep your head in the game."

Before the conversation could continue, you excused yourself to go buy another round of drinks. As you made your way to the bar, you felt the weight of several lingering gazes on your back, casting a subtle aura of discomfort. Some eyes stopped over your body as you asked the bartender for a refill, giving them one of the best views. Tim's eyes followed each glance, noting the subtle gestures and expressions of the onlookers. And he counted them one by one.

The handsome bartender took his time to do the refill, as his eyes examined you, flashing you a charming smile.

"Hey there, beautiful." his voice was low and seductive if you think about it, but it wasn't close enough to the one you actually found yourself drawn to. "What brings you here tonight?"

As Tim was left alone at the table with the rookies, he found it almost impossible to focus on their conversation, as his gaze kept drifting back to where you stood at the bar, engrossed in conversation with the bartender.

"Oh, just blowing off some steam after a long day at work." you responded politely and considered giving him a chance.

At this point, you couldn't shut people off for some feelings that are in vain anyway. You need to go back in the game if you didn't wanted to be a single 45 year old cop, redecorating your house on your own between shifts like Nolan. That wasn't nice, you scolded yourself for the thoughts.

"Sounds like you could use a drink then. Let me guess, you're a cop, right? You've got that look about you." the bartender asked with a grin as he wiped down the counter with a cloth.

Tim's jaw clenched with frustration, a surge of jealousy coursing through him as he observed the subtle flirtation unfolding before his eyes. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him, a sense of possessiveness clawing at his chest as he struggled to contain his emotions.

"Tim, is everything okay?" Lucy's voice broke through his reverie, her concerned expression drawing his attention.

Tim forced a tight-lipped smile, his features taut with tension as he tried to mask his inner turmoil. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied curtly, though his tone betrayed his true feelings.

You chuckled at the bartender assumption, shaking your head "No, no. Nothing like that. I work for the city, but I surely don't have what it takes to be a cop." you admitted, drinks in your hand, lingering a little bit more.

"Ah, close enough though." he leaned over the counter, taking his chance to have a closer look at you. "Mark" he introduced himself with a friendly smile.

"Y/N" you responded politely, as you played his game, leaning in his direction.

"So, what do you say we grab a drink together sometime, Y/N ? I know a great place just around the corner." he proposed, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

Mark's easy charm and attentive conversation had left a positive impression on you, and you found yourself looking forward to meeting him.

But Lucy wasn't convinced by Tim's response, her brow furrowing with concern as she regarded him intently. "Are you sure? You seem a little...off," she persisted, her voice laced with concern.

Tim hesitated, torn between his desire to confide in Lucy and his instinct to keep his emotions guarded. "It's nothing, just...work stuff," he deflected, his tone clipped as he avoided her gaze.

Lucy nodded in understanding, didn't want to cross any boundaries, so she just let the subject drop. Anyone could see from afar that Tim was uncomfortable, little did anyone know he was feeling like that because you're not around.

Not even Tim knew why he couldn't take his eyes off of you or why he felt like his heart tightened with every laugh travelling to the table.

"Yeah, we could do that." you replied to Mark, considering his offer before hearing the unmistakable beat of footsteps you can't possibly erase from your mind.

Unable to stand by and watch any longer, Tim made his way over to you, determination etched on his face. "Hey, everything okay here?"

You glanced up, surprised to see Tim standing before you. "Oh, uh, yeah, everything's fine. Just getting the drinks."

The handsome bartender eyed Tim warily, sensing the tension in the air. "Is this your boyfriend?"

Tim's jaw clenched at the question, his gaze narrowing as he locked eyes with the stranger. "Something like that."

"Uh, Mark, this is Tim, my trainer from the job." you clarified, trying to make as bearable as possible the atmosphere shift.

Mark nodded in understanding, though a flicker of confusion crossed his features at Tim's abrupt attitude and he regarded your TO with a polite smile, extending a hand in greeting.

"Hey there, I'm Mark. Nice to meet you," he said, his tone friendly despite the underlying tension.

But Tim's response was anything but friendly. With a frustrated growl, he slammed his fist against the counter, the sound echoing through the bar. "Excuse me," he muttered tersely before turning on his heel and storming out of the bar.

His fists were clenched with frustration and your heart sank with a mixture of confusion and disappointment. You watched him go, your mind reeling with unanswered questions and a deep sense of hurt.

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you tried to make sense of Tim's sudden outburst. Had you done something wrong? Was he angry with you? The uncertainty gnawed at you.

But beneath the confusion, a flicker of disappointment burned within you. You had hoped that tonight would be a chance for you and Tim to bond outside of work, to bridge the gap between you. But his sudden departure had shattered those hopes.

Tim's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Jealousy burned hot within him, a primal instinct that had ignited the moment he saw another man hitting on you.

But beneath the jealousy, a deeper sense of frustration simmered. Frustration at himself for allowing his feelings for you to cloud his judgment, for letting his jealousy get the better of him. He knew he had no right to stake a claim on you, no right to feel possessive or territorial. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gripped him whenever he saw you with another man.

As he made his way through the crowded streets, Tim's thoughts were consumed by visions of you and the handsome bartender, laughing and flirting as if he didn't exist. The image burned like a brand on his mind, fueling his anger and driving him further into the depths of despair.

Monday morning is usually a pain in the ass, but with the events that occurred last Friday at the bar, and Tim's attitude towards you, harsher and grumpier than usual, it was a morning out of the burning hell. Your heart was racing as he instructed you, curt and on point, on what will happen next.

May have been a few days since the incident at the bar, but the memory lingered in the back of your mind like a stubborn shadow. Despite your best efforts to push it aside, the tension between you and Tim was palpable, a silent undercurrent that simmered beneath the surface.

You knew that he was testing you, pushing you to your limits in an attempt to prepare you for the cop life, but beneath his tough exterior, you couldn't help but sense a hint of something else—something that felt uncomfortably like jealousy.

The morning sunlight bathed the patrol car's interior as you and Tim cruised through the LA streets, the radio's steady hum punctuating the silence between you.

Your usual chitchat about the rookie book is now replaced by a brooding silence, his knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel. You stole a glance at him, noting the furrowed brow and the distant look in his eyes, and couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the gulf that seemed to have grown between you.

The radio crackled to life, dispatch's voice cutting through the quiet."7-Adam-19, we have a noise complaint at 123 Oak Street. Caller reports a disturbance in one of the apartments. Please respond."

Tim glanced at you, and you tried to read something in his eyes as he keyed the mic. "Copy that. We're en route."

There was nothing to be seen in his eyes, but you took your time to admire him in silence, your mind playing all the memories since you became his rookie, couldn't stop the thought that maybe the flicker that burned inside every time you touched his arm by mistake, every time he smiled at you, every time he made you smile, was indeed something. You always tend to question your feelings, rather they're justified or in vain, and this one was surely in vain.

There's no way a man like him, so put together, so ambitious — so handsome— would have even the thought of liking a rookie, you thought. You considered this whole situation too stupid, probably every single woman that comes past Tim fall in love with him.

As you pulled up to the apartment complex, the sounds of raised voices and slamming doors greeted you, sending a shiver down your spine.

"This could get messy," you muttered, your voice tense with apprehension.

"And we're prepared for this kind of situations. But if you don't feel like it, you can give up the badge." his voice is harsh and his expression is far from nice.

"That's not what I meant." you mouthed under your breath and followed Tim into the building.

As you reached the door of the apartment in question, you exchanged a wary glance with Tim before knocking firmly. The door swung open to reveal a chaotic scene inside, a group of men engaged in a heated argument that showed no signs of abating.

"LAPD! Hands where I can see them!" your voice cut through the chaos like a knife, but if anything, it only seemed to stoke the flames.

In an instant, the situation erupted into chaos, with shouts and curses filling the air as fists flew and bodies collided. You and Tim sprang into action, replaying in your mind everything you learned from the academy and your TO. But just as you thought you had gained the upper hand, the situation took a sudden turn for the worse. A shout rang out from the far end of the room, followed by the sound of shattering glass as a fight broke out between two of them.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you and Tim moved swiftly to intervene, but the situation quickly spiraled out of control. Amidst the chaos, you found yourself grappling with one of them, seven feet tall man and muscular construction, your heart pounding in your chest as you fought to maintain control.

Tim knew not to mess up his personal life and his professional one, he did it once and didn't end well. He weighed his decision over and over again, continuously adding pros and cons to the equation. It was safe for you to deal with this kind of men? Probably not, but if he would go soft on you and pick an easy target it would mean he let his feelings step out and fail you as your TO.

All Tim could do in this situation was to have your back no matter what and make sure you get home safe to meet with that stupid bartender. That thought run fast like the wind and bought back your laughter from that night hunting him once more. The lovely eyes you gave that man and the smile so bright, a smile he saw for the first time.

Your focus narrowed on subduing the individual before they could inflict harm. In the heat of the moment, you failed to notice another figure advancing towards you from the side.

Suddenly, a sharp blow struck your side, sending a jolt of pain radiating through your body. Gasping, you stumbled backward, momentarily disoriented as the room spun around you.

"Y/L/N!" Tim's voice cut through the haze of pain, his tone laced with concern as he rushed to your side. "You okay?"

Grimacing, you nodded weakly, trying to push through the pain as adrenaline surged through your veins. But with each breath, the pain in your side seemed to intensify, a constant reminder of the mistake you had made in letting your guard down.

Tim's grip tightened on your arm, his eyes scanning you for signs of injury as he assessed the situation. "Officer down," he said firmly into his radio, his voice tinged with urgency "Send backup and R/A."

Despite the pain coursing through your body, you forced yourself to focus, pushing aside the fear and uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm you. With Tim's support, you managed to regain your footing, the determination in his eyes giving you the strength to move on.

When one of them hurt you, the rest managed to move the circus outside the building, now armed and pointing the guns to their heads. You handcuffed your attacker and Tim dealt with the one stuck under you in the ambush. As you pushed the man down to the car with trembling feet, barely holding steady, you heard sirens cut through the air, signaling the arrival of backup. With a sense of relief washing over you, you spared a quick glance toward the parking lot, where a team of officers rushed between the men, their presence a welcome sight amidst the chaos.

"LAPD! Drop your weapon!" Nolan began, approaching the chaos as their eyes counted the police officers surrounding them. "Hands where I can see them, on the ground, face down!" he demanded as you and Tim put the suspects in the backseat of the car. "Spread your arms and legs!"

As the men followed Nolan's instructions, you tried to join your colleagues and handcuff the suspects, but Tim's hand stopped you in place. "Go sit down. You did enough." he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Despite the urgency of the situation, there was a steely resolve in his eyes as he focused on ensuring your safety above all else. Feeling a surge of frustration welling up inside you, you opened your mouth to protest, but Tim's stern gaze silenced you before you could speak. With a heavy heart, you complied with his orders, a paramedic guiding you to the ambulance for a search.

The sound of Tim's voice rang out through the chaos, his words echoing in your mind as he barked orders to his fellow officers. But amidst the chaos and confusion, it was clear that Tim's focus was solely on the task at hand, his attention unwavering as he worked to bring the situation under control. And as you watched from the sidelines, a sense of hurt and disappointment washed over you, the sting of Tim's words cutting deep as you struggled to make sense of the situation.

With the suspects now securely restrained, Tim turned his attention back to you, his expression tight with frustration as he approached. "What were you thinking, officer Y/L/N?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger as he confronted you.

Caught off guard by his harsh tone, you felt a lump form in your throat as you struggled to find the right words to respond. "I...I didn't see them, sir," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you met Tim's gaze.

But Tim's expression remained unforgiving, his frustration palpable as he glared down at you. "You could have gotten yourself killed out there," he snapped, his words biting as he chastised you for your reckless actions.

As Tim guided you back to the patrol car and began the journey back to the station, the air between you was heavy with tension. There was an awkward silence that seemed to stretch on endlessly, punctuated only by the sound of the radio crackling with dispatch updates.

As Tim sat behind the wheel, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions churned within him. He couldn't shake the sense of shame that gnawed at him, a bitter reminder of how his feelings for you had clouded his judgment during the call.

Seeing you hurt had unleashed a torrent of emotions within him, overriding his instincts as a cop and blinding him to the dangers that still lurked nearby. In that moment, all he could think about was protecting you, shielding you from harm at any cost.

But in his haste to ensure your safety, he had let his guard down, allowing the suspects to slip through his fingers and jeopardizing the success of the mission. The weight of his mistake bore down on him like a crushing weight, a stark reminder of the consequences of letting his personal feelings interfere with his professional duties.

As he drove back to the station, the silence in the car was suffocating, amplifying the cacophony of thoughts that raged within his mind. He couldn't shake the sense of disappointment that gripped him, a bitter reminder of how he had let you down when you needed him most. When you needed him to be your role model, the person you should've learned from.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at you, the weight of Tim's disappointment hanging heavily in the air. With each passing moment, the silence grew more oppressive, suffocating you with its intensity.

Glancing over at Tim, you feel a pang of guilt at the sight of his clenched jaw and furrowed brow. His usually expressive eyes were now unreadable, a mask of frustration and disappointment that sent a shiver down your spine.

As you wrestled with your own feelings of guilt and self-doubt, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Tim's silent treatment spoke volumes, a clear indication of his disapproval of your actions during the call.

Despite your best efforts to break the silence, Tim remained resolutely silent, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. "Tim, are you okay?" you insisted. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears, his gaze fixed straight ahead as if lost in thought.

"I'm fine, officer Y/L/N." he muttered tersely, his voice clipped and devoid of emotion. But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the furrowed brow that betrayed the turmoil that raged within him.

You weren't about to let him brush you off that easily. "No, you're not," you insisted, your voice tinged with concern. "Something's bothering you, Tim. I can tell."

He shot you a sharp glance, his eyes flashing with irritation. "I said I'm fine," he snapped, his tone sharp and biting. But you could see the pain that flickered behind his eyes, a vulnerability that he tried so desperately to hide.

"Tim, please," you pressed, reaching out to touch his arm gently. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

For a moment, Tim seemed to waver, his defenses crumbling under the weight of your words. But then, as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and he withdrew from your touch, his expression hardening once more.

"I don't need your pity, Y/N," he spat, his voice laced with bitterness. "I can handle this on my own."

But you refused to back down, refusing to let him push you away. "This isn't about pity, Tim," you countered, your voice steady and unwavering. "I care about you, and I want to help. But you have to let me in."

Tim's jaw clenched with frustration, a surge of emotion bubbling to the surface as he struggled to contain his feelings. "I cannot change my feelings for you, believe me I fucking tried," he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

The admission hung heavy in the air between you, a raw and unfiltered glimpse into the depths of his heart. And as you looked into his eyes, you could see the pain and anguish that swirled within them, a reflection of your own inner turmoil.

"I need to know that you're safe. Because I care about you," he continued, his voice softer now, tinged with vulnerability. "I kind of like you. And I lost control today because you got hurt. And I lost it too at the bar because you were flirting with that good of nothing. "

The words hung in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the truth that lay beneath the surface. And as you stood there, locked in a moment of raw honesty, you knew that your relationship with Tim would never be the same again.

The weight of his confession hung between you like a heavy fog, casting a shadow over the otherwise quiet interior of the car.

You glanced over at Tim, his expression guarded and unreadable as he focused on the road ahead. The air was heavy with emotion, a silent barrier that seemed to stretch on for miles.

"Tim, I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. But Tim cut you off before you could finish, his tone sharp and dismissive.

"I don't want to talk about it, Y/N," he snapped, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. "Just forget I said anything."

But you couldn't let it go that easily, couldn't let him push you away when all you wanted was to be there for him. "Tim, please," you pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm gently. "I need you to understand that I feel the same way."

His eyes flickering with uncertainty as he glanced over at you. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean what I said." taking a deep breath, you summoned all of your courage, pushing aside your fears and doubts as you spoke "I have feelings for you, ok? But I tried to push them away because I didn't want to complicate things. But after you told me..."

Tim's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white as he processed your words. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like an unbridgeable chasm.

Then, finally, Tim let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping with defeat. "I don't know what to say, Y/N," he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation "Things are complicated now, for sure." he chuckled, smiling at you as he parked the car.

"You and me, dinner. Tonight." you demanded, trying to play it off like nothing happened. "We talk about it like grownups."

"It's a date, then." he nodded in agreement, forcing his lips to form a straight line, to hide his dumb smile. "I-I.. I mean if you want to." he stumbled upon his words, scratching the back of his head nervously.

"Yes, Tim. I'd love that." you smiled at him as you both took the men from the backseat and guided them through the corridor of the station.

"Tim and Y/N sitting in a tree—" one of the men started mocking the scene they witnessed, but you and Tim cut him off

"Shut up."

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blingblong55 · 2 months

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Tonight- Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW

Picture credits: @ave661

Based on a request:

Hi 👋, im not sure if you still accept request, but if so, I would like to make a smut request inspired by this song https://open.spotify.com/track/54XqJ3fP3GxmUejMsKwCaK?si=HTcHeplqSc25wwCJ1PCVFg Fem!Reader x Ghost, meeting at a club/pub, one two three drinks lead to another. “We don't gotta be in love, no I don't gotta be the one, no I just wanna be one of your girls tonight We don't gotta be in love, no I don't gotta be the one, no I just wanna be one of your girls tonight, oh” Thank you! 🫢😮‍💨🤭🫣

A/N: its such a good ass song I listened to this on repeat whilst editing this...so enjoy this meal :)

You just needed a night out, which is why by now, your gaze is on him. He was...peculiar. Quiet, serious, honest and a very attractive man, who wouldn't need that for one night?

It's a trick done by girls before you, something he is familiar with by now. And as your eyes are all over him, he plays hard to get. You cross your legs and send a flirty smile his way. "Oh darling," he chuckles as he talks to himself.

With enough smiles between you both, he walks up to you. "Hi, sweetness," his deep voice only made him more desirable. "Hey, handsome," your voice was sweet and filled with booze.

For the rest of the night in the pub, you and him flirt, his charming smile earning blush and playful arm touches from you. He knows girls like you only need him for one night, he also knows what he needs to do to make your one night worthy of begging for more.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" he asks as he pulls your stool closer to his. "Y/N," you softly say and he smirks. "Pretty name for a pretty girl like you," he says as he leans closer. His lips near your neck and as you turn to meet his lips, he pulls away. Who doesn't want to play games in the dim lights?

For you, it didn't matter if he was there for one night or every night of the year, your body just needed the antidote his body released.

You know men like him, playing hard to get and before he opens his mouth you place your soft finger on his lips. Men your age don't play this good with their midnight meals and if he does, why not lure him into your bed?

By the time he and you reach your flat, your bodies ached for the other. His body was warm, hot and needy for fucking a pretty thing like you.

Men like him also tend to like it rough.

Your clothes are on the floor by the time he has his hand around your neck. "Be loud, darlin', I want them loud," he whispers threateningly as he pushes you onto the sofa. A smirk on your lips that soon gets wiped away by his own. "Oh, if you knew the things I'll do to you," his hand pushes away your laced pantie as his hand begins to slowly tease your folds. Your hands around his neck and back, wanting to pull him closer as he kisses you.

Those damn lips of his are like a poison to a needy apple.

His thick fingers slowly let themselves into your wet cunt, he smirks knowing this is just the beginning and you're already so wet for him. What a pathetic fuck doll you are.

Simon begins by kissing you but they slowly turn into hungry kisses that travel from your neck to your thighs. His tongue lapped at your clit, your hands pulling his hair and pushing him further into your sweet cunt. "Fuck, you taste so good," he says between groans as he eats you out. His hands all over you, one specifically groping your tits.

The sensations that he is making you feel are euphoric.

He can't take it anymore, the aching boner in his boxers begging to fuck your pretty cunt. He sits up, pulling his boxers down, stroking his cock and then aligning it to your glistening folds. He doesn't hesitate and lets your slick cunt swallow his aching cock.

He looked at you, his eyes glowing with lust. “You’re so warm,” Ghost mumbled between heavy breaths. His gaze dropped to your neck, and his mouth slowly kissed its way to your sensitive spot. "You're so fucking tight. I might not be able to pull out," he whispered, his words like fire in your ears. He kissed your neck, sucking slightly, and you let out a moan.

He thrusts into you relentlessly, one of his hands cupping your soft and warm breast as the other holds onto your waist. Your moans fueled his lust, and soon, he knew he wouldn’t make it. He slammed into you harder, his grip tightening on your waist. Your arms wrap around his body, eyes shutting as you feel your orgasm build a knot in your stomach. "Fuck...fuck," you moan.

Ghost chuckled darkly, feeling your arms wrap around his shoulders. It was a strange sensation; the rain, the darkness enveloping the inside of the truck, and the intense passion between you two. His thrusts became more aggressive like he was trying to conquer your body. You gripped his shoulders tightly, desperately holding on to him as he assaulted your body.

"You’re so good, love,” Ghost growled in your ear. His grip tightened, and you could hear the urgency in his voice. The scent of his sweat, the flavour of his kiss - everything was intense, bordering on primal. “You’re mine now.”

His thrusts became rougher; your breaths were ragged, and your cheeks flushed. He was losing control, and you could tell. In a moment, he slammed into you, his thrusts more forceful. His disguised face was twisted with lust, eyes closed. You could see the veins on his neck pulsating, and you felt his hot breaths on your skin. Your eyes met his, and his grip tightened, his hands leaving bruises on your tender skin. Your back arches and he smirks, his thrusts faster until your legs shake from the amazing sensation your sweet orgasm brings.

With a final surge, Simon cried out "Oh fuck!" he yelled, his voice hoarse. His eyes opened momentarily, his gaze meeting yours while he came inside you. Then, he collapsed on top of you, panting heavily.

"Fuck, that was good," you pant out and smile. Simon, who had just finished, couldn't help but chuckle. What a sweet thing you are. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his breathing still heavy. He felt your smile and responded by kissing your neck, his breaths hot against your skin. His laughter faded to a low purr as he nuzzled you. “I’m glad, love.” He murmured, pulling away to look at you. “That was good.”

He traced the outline of your lips with his thumb, a wicked grin on his face. His eyes were filled with desire, but there was also something else.

"Do you want me to leave now?" he asks. "Wait until the morning," you whisper and he smiles, bringing you to his chest. He holds you close and sighs. What a midnight treat you were.

Even if it was for just tonight, you were glad you were apart of the lucky girls he fucks this good.

Tags:

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