#hound x fem!reader
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What is Happening to Me (Part 14)
Leon x F!Reader
Words: 1,705
Contains: Death, Whump, Pain, Leon freaking out.
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You take the lead, you gun held close to your chest, the barrel angled up while you stand side against the wall to the entrance of the building. Extending your arms in front of you as you round the corner quickly, you stare into the lobby of some hotel or office building. Scanning around you have to pull a torch from your side and shine it throughout the building.
"Stay alert, any sound could be our suspect." Leon whispers to you, standing side by side so he had your back and you had his.
"Copy." You respond as you motion with your hand to continue forwards.
Walking towards the stairs leading up to a second level, the baluster was frosted glass, topped with a wooden handrailing. Though the glass hadn't faired too well, a body half hanging through one of the panels of glass. The white frosted glass splattered with crimson.
You turn up your nose at the stench of death all around you, though it was starting to become a normal smell for you. Making your way through a hallway to the elevators you see one of them moving up, stopping on the 4th level of 7.
"Let's head up the stairs so he doesn't see the elevator coming." Leon suggests moving to open the door. As he swings it open shots were fired, Leon ducking out of the way, his right arm being grazed with one of the bullets.
Leon lets out a hiss of pain, standing behind the open door. You wait for the gun fire to cease, hearing the magazine being clicked out of the gun you step in the doorway, gun extended, this was the guy.
You shoot his right thigh and rush in to kick him in the chest, sending him into the wall. walking over to him you kick his gun away and kneel over him, pressing your left forearm against his throat, your handgun held to his cheek.
"Why are you spreading the virus?!" Your tone was angry, Leon walking up behind you holding his right bicep, blood dripped down his arm and off his fingers to the ground.
"Hehe.. to create a distraction.." The man hissed out in a chuckle.
"What?" You were confused, what did he mean by-
You suddenly feel a sharp pinch in your side, pulling away from him he was holding an empty syringe, the Umbrella logo on the side of it.
Leon's eyes widen as you hold your side and fall to the ground. He kicks the syringe away, it smashing on the wall aiming his gun at the man's head.
"What the fuck did you just inject her with!!!??"
"An experiment." Was all he said as he started to foam at the mouth, gasping for air he chokes on foam and spit.
"Shit!" Leon notes the name on the man's lab coat. He then kneels down by your side, blood covered and non-blood covered hands cup your face. Turning your face towards him you were starting straight through him, your body shivering at random intervals. "(Y/N)!! Stay with me! I'll get you some help!"
He presses his earpiece, causing it to ring as he scoops you into his arms. Taking you to the elevators he lays you down on the ground gently.
"Leon? What's going on? You've been radio silent for-"
"(Y/N)'s been injected with something! The guy said it was an experiment, his lab coat said O. L. Albrecht. I need to know if there is any information on a new strain of the t-virus, or g-virus. Anything!" His voice was panicked as he sprints down the stairs to the information board he had seen.
He desperately looks for a lab. 5th Floor!
"I can't find anything on a new strain of virus or parasite. Whatever she was injected with must be new. Our intel has nothing on Umbrellas experiments." Hunnigan also sounded panicked.
Leon runs back up the stairs scooping you into his arms once again as he waits for an elevator door to open. Stepping inside he takes you both to the 5th floor. It was a series of lab rooms, one of them housing many serums and tubes of floating parasite-looking creatures.
He places you down on a metal table at one side of a room with a computer and many different equipment's that seem to house syringes.
"Leon, what's happening?" Hunnigan asks still on the line. She could hear your gasps and groans as you shiver in the background of Leon's earpiece.
"I'm searching through the data base to see what this could be and if they've made a cure for it." He said searching through data banks and files. He had no clue what he was doing or looking for, but he had a small idea. Which was enough for him to try.
"Le-on..." You rasp out, head turning towards him, your left arm slipping from your stomach to hang off the edge of the metal table he had placed you on.
"I'm here." He turns around seeing the pure fear in your eyes. "I'm not going to leave you." He turns back around to the screen and then flicks passed something that catches his eye.
Pulling up the file once again he scans through the report.
"This could be a virus they've called the P+T-Virus. Strains of the Tyrant virus have been injected into spawn of a parasite, but it doesn't say what parasite.. Damn it!" He says searching through more documents.
There was a loud thump behind Leon, causing him to turn around, you were on the ground, your skin covered in a red vein. Your normal eye colour had now changed to a dim colour. Yellow starting to show through your iris as they dulled.
He winced seeing your state and walks over, lifting your body up again, you didn't seem hostile, not yet. But he wasn't going to risk it. Strapping you down with the material built into the metal table, your waist, neck and hands restrained. Though he did make sure it wasn't tight enough to hurt or choke you.
Looking down to you on the table, you were gasping, your body doing it's best to stay alive. Fighting internally as you stare at the ceiling, your body wriggling around.
"H...lp." You gurgle out before letting out pained screams. Your entire body felt like it was on fire. Gasping for air between shouts.
Leon walks back to the computers, he couldn't concentrate, this can't be happening! Not to you, not like this.
"Leon, I found something on the guy. His name is Obert Lee Albrecht, working for the Umbrella Corp. after his laboratory was destroyed in Scotland a few years back. Hold on.." She says cutting off her own sentence.
"What?" Leon asked as he continued to search through the data files on any type of experimental antidote. Your screams and cries of pain made everything 10 times more stressful, his brain starting to shut down.
"He was part of the eradication of the Lab (Y/N) was sent to deal with 4 years ago. Seems like he ended up getting a job in Umbrella to create new dominant species of the Plaga." There was no response from Leon, only your pained sounds rang through Hunnigan's ear.
"Leon?... Leon! Focus!"
Leon was currently leaning over the computer, your shouts tearing away at parts of his soul. Every gasp of air made his chest tight. Then suddenly you went silent. His heart dropped, turning to you with the speed of lightning he rushes over to your side.
Taking your hand he searched your face, your eyes were closed, no shivering or muscle spasms. You were completely still. Apart from the rising and falling of your chest, your breath sounding like the death rattle as you inhale and exhale.
Running over to a glass screen on the wall he starts searching there, maybe because it was beside the vials and syringes it would have something. Searching he finds the file for the P+T-Virus and presses on the button reading "Exp. Suppressant". It was his best bet, if he could suppress this, maybe he could get you the help you needed back at the hospital.
A syringe moved from were it sat in it's sterile casing, filling with a purple liquid. It the is sent down a tube to be collected. Leon takes the Syringe and walks over to you, taking your hand once again he looks to your motionless figure, then the syringe in his right hand. Covered in his own blood he sticks it into your stomach and inject it.
There was nothing for a moment, then Leon could hear Hunnigan in his ear. "Leon! Answer me! Can you hear me?"
"Y... Yeah I can hear you."
"What's going on!? Talk to me!"
"I.. Injected her with an experimental suppressant.."
"You did WHAT?!"
Leon winced at her tone, the exact same words were in his own head, what was he thinking?! He had no clue what he was doing. But there was no going back. You were now injected with this purple serum, your left hand being held tight by Leon's as he waits for results.
He watched the red veins across your skin starting to slowly vanish, this was a good sign. He stands over you, a hand coming to your shoulder giving you a slight shake.
"(Y/N)... Hey, wake up." He says gently. Hunnigan was also waiting for a response, sitting in her chair looking down at her desk.
Your eyes open, half lidded as they lazily look around. Your head turning to look up at Leon. "hey.." You say weakly.
"How do you feel?" Leon asks gently peeling hair off your sweaty face.
"As good as I can be.." You try to sit up. "Am I restrained?"
"Yeah, sorry I had to be sure you weren't going to bite or attack me." He explains as he starts to unbuckle the restrains around your neck.
"This type of thing should be kept private." You joke, this made Leon relax even more as you were cracking jokes. This meant you were indeed okay and he needed to get you out of here and to a hospital.
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🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders
#What is happening to me#aussiepineapple1st#chris redfield#fanfic#fic#hound wolf squad#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon x f!reader#leon x fem!reader#leon x female reader#leon x reader#resident evil#resident evil fanfic#resident evil fic#wihtm
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jealousy, jealousy
luke castellan x reader - percy jackson and the olympians
[established relationship, fem!reader]
summary: you weren’t jealous. not at all.
warnings: jealousy, fluff, kissing.
word count: 670
(this is my shortest one yet, but it’s cute and fun so here you go. (yes the brainrot has gotten worse i know))
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it was happening again.
it was always happening, to be fair, but it had been happening a lot more lately.
every time you went to hang out with luke, your boyfriend, he was being hounded by young girls, all asking him for extra help and extra training and batting their eyelashes like broken dolls.
you rolled your eyes and stood off to the side, waiting for the crowd to disperse.
you weren’t jealous, you swore it. like, sure, maybe they annoyed you a little, but you weren’t jealous of them. luke only had eyes for you… right?
your gaze sharpened on him. he hadn’t noticed you yet. he looked a little overwhelmed. stressed even. was that because he was getting too much attention full stop? or because he didn’t know where to look first?
you clenched your jaw and decided to put him out of his misery. you pushed through the girls, ignoring their mumbled complaints.
“will you help me with my sword fighting, lukey?” you cooed from behind him.
you could see his jaw clench as he turned around.
“i’m not giving out—“ his entire expression softened, flipping from irritated to relieved. “y/n.” his voice was a soft breath, murmuring your name like it was the last thing he ever wanted to say. he smiled. “what are you doing here?”
“came to get you. chiron wants to see you. something about counsellor duties?” you raised your eyebrows at him.
he nodded quickly and stepped closer to you and back from the girls around him, who were tittering disappointedly. “sorry, guys. i gotta go.”
they all called various goodbyes after him as you took his arm and pulled him away.
“thank you,” he muttered. “i didn’t know how to get rid of them and i didn’t want to be too mean.”
“that’s your problem, luke castellan. you’re too nice.” you kept pulling him away. not towards the big house like you’d said you would, but around the side of the arena.
he frowned. “where are we going? i thought i needed to see—“
“i haven’t seen chiron all day. and i haven’t seen you all day either,” you said simply.
“oh.” he frowned for a second, then it clicked. “oh, okay!”
you still hadn’t let go of his arm, and he was beginning to notice it.
you could hear his smirk in his voice as he spoke. “were you… jealous, y/n?”
you dropped his arm like it burned you and stopped, turning to face him. he stopped too, almost hitting you. he was inches away. “what? no.”
a mischievous smirk grew on his face. “oh, really? i don’t know if i believe you. you know that you’re the only girl i want, right?”
you blushed slightly and looked away, staring at at cloud shaped vaguely like a heart behind his head. “yeah, i know.”
“do you?” he stepped into your line of vision again.
you nodded.
“good. because all of those girls? if they were trying to get with me, they’d have to look like you, talk like you, act like you. and even with all that, i’d still chose you, because you’re you. not them.” he ran his hands gently down your arms, holding your hands in his. “cool?”
“cool,” you said. you slipped your hands from his and looped them over his shoulders, messing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “very cool.”
“cool.” he leaned in to kiss you.
as you leaned in too, you saw the hoard of girls come around the corner with accusing looks on their faces. and maybe you pulled luke so you were side-on to them and they could see both of you. and maybe you kissed him a little more passionately than the moment really called for. and maybe you had been jealous. maybe. but maybe they needed to learn that he was yours and you were his, and it was time to give up.
in your mind, at least, that was fair.
jealousy, jealousy, you mused. what a weapon.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo x reader#pjo#charlie bushnell#luke castellan x you
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Theodore Nott. | be my first.
PAIRING: Theodore Nott x Reader
PROMPT: “PLEASE please do a Theodore nott x fem!reader virgin!!”
WORD COUNT: 5.5k.
TAGS: 18+, Mentions of Slight Violence, Depictions of Blood, SMUT, Fingering, Bestfriends to Lovers Trope (my personal fav), Virgin!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Slow Sex, Soft!Theo, Multiple Orgasm, Dirty Talk.
"I don't know, Pans, wouldn't that be weird?"
Pansy's laughter echoed in a melodious giggle, the rhythm of her steps creating a soft shuffle across the expanse of your shared dorm. With effortless grace, she descended onto your bed, settling in with a languid poise. Laying on her side, her head found a comfortable perch on her bent arm.
"Why would it be weird?" Her grin, radiant and infectious, painted a mischievous allure across her features. "He's your lifelong best friend. I'm pretty sure he's in love with you-"
"Absolutely not," you interjected, employing a dramatic flourish with your hands for emphasis. "He is not."
Pansy cast a sidelong glance your way. "He so is."
"He's not!" Your grin persisted as you fired back, "if he was, he wouldn't be regaling me with tales of the girls he's shagging every bloody weekend."
Pansy, after a moment of silent contemplation, arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps he's just doing that to make you jealous. Ever think of that?"
You released a sigh, your body surrendering to the bed's embrace as you slumped backwards. The gentle thud of your head meeting the pillows echoed the weight of your contemplations, and memories from the past few weeks intruded your mind--acknowledging the nuanced shifts in Theodore's behaviour, particularly since that one unforgettable common room party.
As the realization took root, you abruptly sat up, the intensity of the revelation reflected in your eyes as they locked onto Pansy's gaze. "Pans...he's been acting distinctly different lately."
Pansy blinked, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "You're just noticing?"
"No, I mean," your thoughts scattered like confetti, your heart pulsating with the weight of the revelation. You realized you hadn't told her. "Ever since that party, the one last Friday in the common room...where we, um...we kissed."
Pansy's eyes widened in sheer disbelief, her jaw dropping in a dramatic display of shock. With a swift, purposeful motion, she sat up, aligning her gaze with yours, the unfiltered surprise etched vividly across her face.
"What the hell!" Her exclamation rang with feigned outrage. "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"
Your expression contorted into a frown as you extended a gentle hand, resting it on Pansy's shoulder. "I'm sorry...we both agreed it was a stupid mistake, and we promised not to tell anyone. We knew you guys would relentlessly hound us about it...I just...I just couldn't risk it..."
Pansy took a measured moment to process your words, her eyes narrowing slightly. She ran a hand through her raven-black hair, the gears turning behind her eyes, thoughts churning with an amused yet contemplative air as she processed your confession.
With an entertained huff, she locked eyes with you. "I can't believe that little weasel kept his mouth shut for all that time. Guess he really can keep a secret."
An assertive snort escaped you, relief from her reaction igniting your features. "Probably just doesn't want me to hate him, considering we're bound to cross paths at every family gathering. Our families are so tightly knit..."
Pansy reclined with a subtle smirk gracing her lips, mischief dancing in her dark eyes. Her fingers traced an intricate, invisible pattern on your emerald green bedspread, their movements betraying a simmering excitement.
Meeting your gaze with unwavering confidence, she responded, "yet another advantage for you, and another compelling reason to go for it."
You shifted, your posture a nuanced blend of contemplation and uncertainty. Your fingers delicately toyed with the hem of your shirt, a nervous energy manifesting in the subtle dance of fabric against your skin.
In the pregnant pause that followed, you countered, "I just...I just can't envision a scenario where asking my best friend to take my virginity works out in my favour."
"I can't see a world where it doesn't," Pansy replied with a softness that hinted at the weight of her conviction. Sitting up again, she met your eyeline, the motion accompanied by a deliberate brush of loose strands of hair behind her ear.
Her gaze held a depth of understanding as she continued, "You guys clearly love each other, given you've known each other forever. He's always Mr. Funny Guy with you, perpetually super flirty and protective...I genuinely believe he'd be happy to oblige."
Absorbing Pansy's counsel with a thoughtful nod, you murmured a grateful, "I'll think about it."
Rising in unison, the two of you traversed to your respective wardrobes, swapping the gravity of the previous discourse for the ease of more casual attire. Satisfied with your choices, you exited the dorm, descending toward the common room. The soft glow of dimmed sconces on stone walls cast an intimate ambiance, while a low hum of hushed conversations and sporadic laughter created a comforting background symphony.
As you stepped into the common room, an immediate sense of unease gripped you. Your attention honed in on the far corner, where a palpable commotion unfolded. Brows furrowing with concern, your gaze fixated on a group of clustered bodies--Mattheo Riddle, Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott all converged around someone.
Instinctively, you made your way over, Pansy following closely behind. As you approached the charged scene, you reached out, placing a steadying hand on Mattheo's arm in an attempt to capture his attention. The air buzzed with tension as you sought to understand the cause of the brewing conflict.
"Matt, what's happening?" you inquired, peering past him to catch sight of a bloodied Malfoy standing at the center of the circle. "Did you do this?"
"No, it was Nott," he retorted, his dark eyes meeting yours as he ran a hand through his dishelved curly hair. "They had a little disagreement--nothing too crazy."
Your gaze swept around the circle, capturing the aftermath of the disagreement. Malfoy wiped the blood from his chin on the back of his hand, keeping his gaze glued to the floor. Meeting everyone's eyes, your search finally settled on Theo, his nose bleeding and a minor cut marring his chin.
A heavy sigh escaped you, the weariness evident in your tone. "Do your petty disagreements always have to escalate into a damn bloodbath?"
Mattheo nonchalantly shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "When they involve Nott...pretty much, yeah."
With an exasperated scoff, you distanced yourself from him, striding purposefully toward Theo. The cerulean depth of his eyes locked onto yours as you approached, a battered hand running through his tousled hair as he shook his head in a frustrated scowl.
"What happened?" you inquired, genuine concern lacing your voice. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Theo's jaw clenched, his stormy gaze shifting from your face to fixate on something over your shoulder. "Sorry prat had it coming."
His eyes locked onto Draco, who was now being tended to by Pansy, the lingering fury evident in the tight set of his jaw and the fire in his gaze. Theo was not merely angry; he was simmering with a profound frustration that permeated the air around him. Sensing his reluctance to share details, you delicately grasped his arm, lowering your voice into a soothing whisper.
"Come on, Theo," you murmured, your tone gentle and calming. "Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"
With a reluctant nod, he cast one last glance over your shoulder before allowing you to guide him out of the common room and back down the dormitory hall. Upon reaching his dorm, he unlocked the door with a brief motion, and you stepped in first.
Navigating the familiar space, you headed straight to his bathroom, grabbing a wet cloth and some ointment. As he took a seat on his bed, the routine unfolded seamlessly--a ritual born out of many similar occasions. Cleaning up your best friend was a well-practiced chore, a testament to his quick temper and penchant for confrontation. It was second nature to you, an unspoken agreement that you'd always be there for him in these moments.
Emerging from the bathroom, you noticed Theo had already cast a silencing and muffling spell over the room. A waft of smoke hung in the air as he lit up a cigarette, his darkened gaze keenly tracking your every movement as you approached.
You came to a halt in front of him, and he widened his stance, creating a space for you to nestle between his legs. Seated on his bed while you stood, the two of you aligned perfectly at eye level. A surge pulsed through you as you observed his plush lips sealing around the cigarette, his long fingers delicately holding it to his mouth. After a quick ashing on his nightstand, he granted you the space to tend to him.
Raising the cloth to his chin, you softly dabbed over the cut, your gaze fixed on the subtle flutter of his long lashes--like delicate wings of a butterfly. A scowl etched his features, and your hands trembled inexplicably, watching his brows furrow, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip. His own hands rested on his knees on either side of your hips, fingers twitching from the sting of your movements.
In a bid to alleviate some of his discomfort, your voice echoed as a delicate murmur. "Do you remember the first time I did this?"
"How could I forget?" He met your gaze, his stormy eyes flickering as his lips teased a subtle smirk. "My personal saviour, always cleaning up my messes."
Pleased with the condition of the cut, you glided the cloth along the sharp ridge of his jawline, meticulous in collecting every trace of dried blood. Progressing to his nose, you repeated the careful process--his eyes remained fixed on your face, observing each subtle movement as you concentrated on restoring his appearance, gently swiping over his lips last.
Grinning at his words, you locked eyes with him. "You're right...I've been quite the skilled nurse, haven't I?"
He chuckled, a deep sound resonating through his chest, the corner of his mouth lifting into a half-smile. "The best damn nurse I've ever had."
You laughed, a warmth dancing across your skin as you pulled the cloth from his face.
"Now that's a compliment, considering you've been in the hospital wing a lot of damn times," you quipped, playfully raising an eyebrow. "I should be getting compensation for my efforts."
"Compensation?" He grinned, the playful glint in his blue eyes unmistakable. "How about I owe you a pack of cigarettes and a promise to keep the brawls to a minimum?"
Smirking, you couldn't hide the amusement dancing in your eyes. "Please, you and I both know your promises mean very little, Nott." As you stepped back, you added, "but I'll take the cigarettes."
Before you could get very far, Theo's large hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, halting your movements as well as the breath in your lungs. Your gaze riveted to the hand, the touch sending a shiver through your skin, before slowly moving back up to meet Theo's eyes. Within their depths churned something profound, a silent intensity that stopped your heart in your chest.
"You want to know why I fought him?" he said, his voice so deep it was almost imperceptible. "Malfoy."
Your brows furrowed in confusion as you waited for him to elaborate. "Sure."
Theo's grip tightened on your wrist, his jaw tensing as his eyes drilled into yours. "He said that if he wasn't with Pansy, he'd have gotten with you a long time ago," he confessed, the words carrying a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "He claimed your hard-to-get facade is all an act...that you're really a little slut..."
Your eyes widened at Theo's revelation, a mixture of surprise and disbelief sweeping across your features. Your pulse quickened, feeling the intensity of his gaze and the gravity of the situation.
"He said that?" you muttered, the weight of Malfoy's words sinking in. Theo's grip on your wrist loosened, and a subtle vulnerability flickered in his eyes as his hand slid lower, fingers finding yours.
"I don't care what he thinks, but hearing him talk about you like that...I couldn't let it slide," he admitted, his voice softer now, revealing the protective undertone that fueled his actions. "He doesn't know..."
"...that I'm a virgin," you said, finishing his sentence with a hushed admission.
Theo's expression softened as he nodded, and his thumb gently traced circles on the back of your hand.
"I don't want anyone disrespecting you like that, especially not him," he said, a mixture of concern and sincerity in his gaze. "You're a fucking angel, he doesn't deserve to even think about you."
Your heart pounded in your chest, warmth spreading through you at his words. Your gaze locked in with his, his eyes momentarily dropping to your lips, yours doing the same. The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken emotions as Theo’s declaration lingered. His protective stance and words resonated deeply, and you couldn’t help but feel the gravity of his sentiments.
Silent acknowledgment settled within you, a quiet admission that the dynamics between you and Theo had shifted. The boy who had once been your childhood best friend was now a source of desire and an unexpected depth of affection. Over the years, his presence had woven into the fabric of your heart, evolving into a sentiment that transcended mere friendship.
"Thank you, Theo..." you murmured, involuntarily leaning closer. "Thank you for-"
Before you could finish the sentence, Theo's hands shifted with intent, cradling the sides of your face as he drew your lips to his. The hunger in his mouth was palpable, a dance of devotion and purpose, his tongue delving past your teeth without a moment's hesitation.
Your lids fluttered shut, your brain caught off guard, taking a seemingly eternal five seconds to gather itself from the molten state it found itself in, the realization dawning that you weren't merely passively enjoying this kiss--you were actively engaging, meeting his fervour with equal intensity.
Your hands instinctively sought his messy hazelnut strands, fingers threading through them as you pressed against him, the world beyond the kiss momentarily forgotten in the heated exchange. As the kiss progressed, your mind struggled to fathom the reality of locking lips with your best friend--a completely sober, unrestrained exchange with no intentions of stopping.
And then, before you could process it, large hands enveloped your lower thighs, drawing you closer as Theo reclined onto his plush green duvet, the soft fabric embracing his back with a gentle touch. Your hands landed involuntarily with a deliberate force on his chest, seeking stability as you shifted to straddle his waist.
The kiss intensified, one of his hands securing the back of your head, while the other boldly explored the curve of your hip, his pelvis pressing against yours, his erection evident even between your layers of clothing.
A low, involuntary moan escaped your lips as his undeniable hardness pressed against you, a sensation that sent shivers down your spine. It kindled a fervent desire within you, a flame only he could stoke. Your hands transitioned from his chest and back into the tousled richness of his hair, fingers entwining in the silky strands. Breaking the kiss momentarily, you caught your breath, panting softly as you gazed down at him through eyes clouded with lust.
Theo's lips curled into a knowing smirk, evident satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he surveyed the effect he had on you. His hands traversed the landscape of your back, drawing you back down to him. Your bodies melded together, the heat rising between you palpable. You instinctively moved your hips against his crotch, craving more of the intoxicating friction that left your senses spinning, and a low groan escaped him, his hands guiding your hips back and forth.
"What are we doing..." Theo whispered, his voice a breathy murmur, his head falling back, and his eyes squeezing shut in a moment of quiet contemplation. "I told myself I wouldn't do this with you again."
Your heart hammered in your throat, your fingers trembling as his hands grazed the curve of your ass. In a mere pant, you breathed, "do what?"
His fingers traced a slow path to the back of your head, gently guiding your lips back to his.
The heat between you intensified as he whispered, "this," against your mouth, his soft breath sparking heat in your veins.
A low, desperate sound escaped your throat, a mixture of a mewl and a moan, as the fire in your core reached an almost unbearable intensity. Theo groaned in response, his grip on your hips tightening, and with a swift motion, he flipped the two of you around, placing you on your back beneath him. His hips pressed into yours with a force that felt like an attempt to fuse you with his mattress, his hands finding purchase on either side of your head, trapping you beneath him.
"Theo," you murmured against his lips, your hands tugging on his hair in a desperate attempt to part his mouth from yours, yearning for a breath of air. "Theo...”
Refusing to break the kiss, Theo groaned into your mouth, his hand cradling the side of your head, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a feather-light touch. He rocked his hips against you, both teetering on the brink of losing yourselves entirely. The restrained passion and tension accumulated from years of friendship were on the verge of breaking free.
Finally, in a gasp of air, Theo pulled back, both of your chests heaving, your lungs reaching for oxygen in desperation. His blue eyes dipped over your face, lingering for a moment before trailing lower. With a regretful realization, he shifted back onto his knees, putting a disappointing amount of space between your bodies, as if just coming to terms with the consequences of his actions.
"Fuck," he murmured, running an unsteady hand through his hair. "I...I'm sorry-"
"Theo...I want you," you cut him off, the desperation evident in your voice as you expressed your desire for him. "Please..."
Theo's eyes flickered, and he blinked, momentarily taken aback. "You..."
"Yes," you whispered, a subtle flush colouring your cheeks as you pushed aside any embarrassment. "I want you to be my first, Theo."
Theo leaned back down, his hand gently cupping your chin as he directed your eyes to meet his intense gaze, his fingers digging into your skin only slightly.
"Are you fucking serious?" he questioned, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Don't play with me, principessa..."
"Why on earth would I joke about something like that?" you replied, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "Of course, I'm serious."
Theo's countenance softened with a tender gaze as he scrutinized your face, searching for any traces of hesitation or uncertainty. Discovering none, he leaned in, planting a delicate kiss against your lips. His hand gracefully transitioned from your chin, weaving into your hair with a gentle, reassuring touch.
"You don't know how fucking long I've wanted you," he whispered against your mouth, his eyes reflecting the intensity of his desire. "But I don't want to fucking hurt you...I don't know if I'll be able to control myself..."
Your fingers gently traced the contours of his face as you held his gaze. "Theo, we've known each other for so long, there's no one I trust more than you...I know you'll be gentle with me..."
Theo's gaze softened further at your words, and he leaned in for another kiss. His hand embarked on a slow journey from the strands of your hair, delicately tracing the curves of your body until it found the waistband of your sweats, teasingly playing with it.
"Gonna' need to ease you into it, principessa," he whispered against your lips, his warm breath mingling with yours. "Let me know if it's too much, alright?"
As you nodded, your hands migrated from his shoulders to entwine in his hair. His hand daringly slipped beneath the cotton fabric, and a gasp involuntarily escaped your lips as he skillfully explored the warmth between your thighs with his fingers. Simultaneously, his lips traced a tantalizing path down past your jawline, each touch sending shivers down your spine.
"Mm, you're already so fucking wet for me..." he nipped your neck and you squealed, fingers gripping fistfuls of his hair. "Gonna' fill you up so good...stretch you out just for me..."
Pleasure rippled through your thighs, your heartbeat thumping in your core. "Theo..."
"Mhmm," he breathed as he trailed lower, mouth grazing over your collarbone, long fingers teasing over your clit, coating himself in your slick. "Fuck, I've wanted to hear you moan my name like that for years...you've completely fucking tortured me, bella..."
You gasped as he teased your clit again, fervent fingers digging into his scalp. "You-you never made a move-"
Theo groaned against your skin, his free hand sliding up to pull your shirt along your stomach, and then skillfully tugging on your bra, exposing your bare chest to his hungry gaze. His lips parted, and a deep lust filled his eyes as he immediately cupped one breast in his palm, skillfully flicking a stiffening nipple between his fingers.
"Fuck me," he muttered before pulling one of your nipples into his mouth, skillfully twirling his tongue around the bud. "I didn't want to complicate our friendship, bella mia...I didn't want to risk losing you..."
Theo's mouth moved to your other nipple, and he deftly took it between his lips, suckling on it before tracing circles around it with his tongue. You moaned, feeling your body respond to his touch, your hips jerking involuntarily as he pushed a finger inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. His thumb resumed its motions on your clit, coaxing sounds of desire from deep within you.
Heat scorched your blood. "F-fuck, Theo..."
"Is this okay?" he muttered, pulling back slightly to examine your face. "You're so fucking tight."
You nodded, incapable of forming a coherent thought as your body's reaction was immediate, every fiber of your being inundated by intense, mind-numbing pleasure. Theo groaned as he brought his lips back to your nipple, skillfully pulling it into his mouth. Your entire body quivered beneath him, unable to comprehend how rapidly your impending orgasm was overwhelming you.
"Oh, Gods, Theo..." you gasped, your fingers tightening their hold in his hair like you were trying to pry it from his scalp. "Oh, fuck-"
Theo heightened his rhythm, skillfully adding another finger inside you as he fervently zeroed in on your sensitive nub with vigorous strokes. Your vocabulary dissolved into a symphony of flailing wails and moans, your eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy as he sensually flicked his tongue over one nipple before seamlessly transitioning to the other.
"That's right, darling..." he cooed against your chest, his voice torn and barely restrained, a low rasp that sent a thrill up your spine. "Let go for me...I've got you..."
His words alone ignited a blaze of warmth across your skin, and as much as you desired to resist, to not succumb so swiftly, it was inevitable and overwhelming, your orgasm slamming into you like a powerful shot to the gut.
"Shit-Theo!" Your jaw fell slack, eyes rolling back. "I'm-i'm-"
Your vision whitened as you broke, every nerve in your body pulsating with ecstasy. It was a wave crashing over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake. Theo's movements never faltered, his touch relentless, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from your shuddering form.
"That's it--fuck--so perfect..." he breathed, rubbing you through the remnants of your aftershocks. "Such a good fucking girl...did that feel good?"
You nodded, still gasping for breath as you tried to compose yourself. "Yes," you said, feeling a flush of embarrassment on your cheeks. "It felt amazing."
"Yeah?" Theo whispered, his hand withdrawing as he shifted to press his lips softly against yours. "You like cumming for your best friend, huh? Enjoy making a mess all over my fingers?"
You released a throaty groan against his demanding mouth as his skilled hands effortlessly peeled down your sweatpants and panties, revealing the goosebumped flush of your skin. His shirt swiftly joined the discarded clothes, exposing the sculpted lines of his torso. Unrelenting, his eyes remained fixed on yours as he leaned back to undo his belt with a controlled urgency.
Once successful, he leaned back over you and a large hand cupped your jaw, his voice a low, commanding murmur.
"I didn't hear an answer," he stated, the timbre of his words sending shivers down your spine. "Perhaps I need to make you cum again?"
You huffed, a subtle squirm beneath him accentuating the anticipation, his free hand teasing the tender skin of your inner thigh. "Theodore..."
"Would you like that?" he muttered, his lips drawing nearer, the grip on your jaw tightening. "You want me to make you cum all over my bedsheets again, hm?"
His fingers caressed over your heat, teasing your folds, and you arched against his touch, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. You could sense he was attempting to buy himself time, to talk himself down from his excitement. His restraint hung by a thread, self-control wavered under the sight of you withering beneath him.
Swallowing hard, your throat felt drier than the desert as you met his gaze with pleading eyes. "Please, Theo," you whimpered, "stop teasing."
"Fuck--so eager for me, yeah?" he purred, releasing your jaw to slide his boxers down his thighs, pulling free his thick, long cock. "Let's see if we can sate this pretty little pussy."
Your breath fled from your lungs, your jaw practically dropping to the floor. He was massive, even in his own big hand, even as he pumped himself, sliding his fist back and forth over his length as his eyes burned wounds into the flesh of your tits. You whined, your core clenching and screaming with need, drool threatening to pour down the sides of your lips as your desperate eyes shifted between his eyes and his dick.
"Fucking hell, Theo..." your brain struggled to form coherent thoughts, and those words were the only ones that managed to slip past your lips. "You never mentioned...so massive..."
He huffed, and you knew he was watching you--his irises igniting in flames, a tiny smirk teasing his lips as you watched him stroke himself faster, harder.
"I didn't want to intimidate you before you got to experience how good it can be," he murmured, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. "Besides, I'm well aware of your disdain for men with oversized egos."
Your breath caught in your throat as your brain struggled to process the revelation. Losing your virginity to your lifelong best friend, who knew you better than you knew yourself, and who had purposely kept the extent of his endowment a secret, fearing it might scare you off. The boundary between reality and dream blurred, leaving you in a surreal haze of disbelief.
"Just shut up and show me," you finally managed to whisper, your desire overcoming any reservations. "Show me how good it can be."
"Easy, principessa, don't get greedy now," he murmured, his hands firmly grasping your thighs to pull you closer. "You're not ready for everything I have to offer just yet."
Theo leaned back over you, trailing hot open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck and over your collarbone--forearm framing your face, other hand gripping his cock, angling the glistening tip toward your throbbing entrance, teasing you briefly with a few false thrusts, slicking his length in your wetness.
"Are you ready?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "To feel me inside of you, filling you up?"
Your voice barely more than a breath, you nodded in response, averting your gaze to the ceiling. "Please."
Theo huffed, pulling his face from your neck, long fingers directing your gaze to meet his eyes.
"Look at me, bella..." he looped an arm under your neck, long fingers holding you in place. "I want you to look into my eyes as you feel yourself stretching out for me..."
Your lips parted in awe, speechless and utterly intoxicated. Doing as he said, you held his gaze, feeling yourself slowly getting lost in the ocean waves of his eyes. Theo groaned, his own breath shallow as he pressed the head of his dick into you, pushing you apart, and you whimpered, clenching before he even entered you. You were quaking--and he hissed through his teeth before he'd fully sank into you, letting loose a low, deep groan as your wet cunt swallowed his cock.
"Shh," he purred, glimpsing your lips. "Just a little bit more..."
Pleasure and pain erupted through your bloodstream as he stretched you wide, a sharp cry leaving your throat as he pushed deeper and deeper, stroking into your heat with the pace of a snail, inch by agonizing inch--pausing once he'd sunk in to the base. You could feel his cock pulsing inside of you, and you were breathless, unable to fathom how big he was, how full he made you feel.
"Fucking hell, are you okay?" he muttered almost under his breath, his voice cracking with concern as he looked into your eyes, his blue gaze searching for any sign of distress. When you merely nodded, the desperation in his expressions intensified. "Please, talk to me...keep me grounded..."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath. "And what do you mean, 'keep you grounded'?"
Theo sighed heavily, emitting a low groan, his breath catching in his lungs as he withdrew slightly before smoothly gliding back into you. You whimpered, still holding his gaze, lips parted in unbelievable bliss. His hand cradled your head, staring at you with gleaming eyes as he found his rhythm, keeping every stroke deep and careful and full.
"I-I, fuck," he grunted through gritted teeth as he stared down at you. "You're so tight, so fucking wet...I can barely control myself..."
He lowered himself, ensnaring your lips in a profound, fervent kiss while maintaining a deliberate pace within you. Each rhythmic thrust unleashed renewed waves of ecstasy, prompting unrestrained moans from your chest and sending you writhing beneath him.
"You feel so good," he whispered as one of his hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch as he slowly began to increase the tempo of his thrusts. "I can't believe how fucking tight you are. You're going to make me cum so fucking hard, my pretty little virgin."
Your nails clawed at his back, your walls squeezing his thick length with every thrust. "Theo-harder, please..."
"Yeah? You want more, pretty girl?" he whispered, warm breath enveloping your ear. "Such a needy little pussy..."
You gasped, nodding as his lips attacked your neck. "Please, please-"
"Anything for you," he responded, his voice torn, each syllable saturated with longing. "Filthy little--fuck,"
He surged into heightened motion, the force of his hips colliding with yours intensifying upon your command. A sharp cry escaped you when he skillfully found that responsive spot within you, immediately unleashing a cascade of pleasure that surged through your body like electric currents. The intensity reached a near-overwhelming point, a delicate dance between ecstasy and a hint of exquisite pain, causing unbridled moans to spill from your lips uncontrollably.
"Mm," he grunted, a near growl in your ear. "Pretty pussy taking me so well,"
His paced increased again, slamming into your cervix with every thrust. His fingers resumed their work on your clit, yanking you toward your climax, your body being whiplashed with pleasure. You bit down on his shoulder, desperate to muffle your screams as your pussy squeezed him harder, yanked to the edge by the stretch of his cock slamming into you, his fingers battering your nub.
"Theo--w-wait," your words stumbled amidst waves of pleasure, your body convulsing beneath his unyielding onslaught. "Theo, please-I can't, I-it's too much...”
"Come on baby, I know you're close," his voice, raspy and unbridled, revealed the shattering of his self-control. He relentlessly pounded into you, beads of sweat adhering his hair to a glistening forehead. "I felt you squeezing me--fuck--you can take it..."
You gasped for breath, a desperate symphony echoing your lungs' protest as your teeth found refuge in his skin. Fingers, possessed by an almost primal force, clawed into his back, leaving an indelible mark. Theo's movements, unyielding and masterful, propelled you inexorably towards the precipice of climax, each sensation more vivid than the last.
"Theo-" you practically screamed, your body buzzing in anticipation. "I'm gonna' cum, Theo-fuck-"
"Let me hear you," he said, voice shredded raw. "I want to hear you scream for me...I want to hear you moaning my name as this tight little cunt breaks for me..."
"Oh, fuck.." you moaned, eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck, Theo...oh Gods, fuck..."
You shattered, euphoria tearing through you as your walls pulsed and milked his cock. Your eyes rolled back, vision going blank as squeals and screeches left your lips in nothing more than mumbling nonsense.
Theo groaned, bliss numbing your skin, limbs shaking and trembling as he pulled you through wave after wave of pleasure, gripping you tighter until he too exploded, breath sputtering as he poured himself into you, hips bucking until the only sensation left was sweaty, heaving, post-orgasmic rapture.
In the aftermath, an extended silence enveloped the room--long after the cadence of your breaths normalized, long after the faculties of your minds fully reassembled. Theo finally stirred, rolling off you to settle on the mattress, where he promptly drew you into the sanctuary of his embrace.
"Can we acknowledge our feelings already?" Theo teased, fingers delicately brushing loose strands of hair behind your ear. “You know I’ll fight you if we go back to just being friends after all of that.”
You huffed, on the precipice of unrestrained laughter. "Only if you go first."
As you shifted to lock eyes with him, a smirk adorned his face, that mischievous grin unfurling across his impeccably plush lips. "Fine…I'm fucking in love with you."
Your own smirk surfaced, a surge of warmth coursing through you as you leaned in, brushing your lips against his. "I'm in love with you too, you dork."
#harry potter#theodorenottsmut#theodore smut#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott smut#theodorenott#theodore nott#theo nott#draco malfoy smut#tom riddle smut#tom riddle#severus smut#tomriddle smut#mattheoriddle#mattheosmut#theo nott smut#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle#tomriddlesmut#draco smut#riddle smut#mattheo smut#malfoy#tom riddle x reader#theoriddlesmut#theo riddle#lorenzozurzolo#enzoberkshiresmut#blaisezabini
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Another Pawn in Your Game. (c.s)
Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Capitol!Reader
Summary: you felt betrayed by coriolanus and lucy gray's act in the capitol zoo. or coriolanus coaxes you into thinking what he did was okay.
Warnings: minor felix ravinstill x reader (one-sided). angst. manipulative snow who knows all the right words to say. they stay together in the end. UNEDITED
a/n: if you have seen my post about coriolanus before reading this, my stand does not change. and i am not trying to justify anything. that being said i do find him an interesting character to write for with his complexity!
masterlist
You couldn’t believe your eyes from the act that Coriolanus and Lucy Gray were pulling in front of Lucky Flickerman. Introducing her. Holding hands with a district. You felt eyes of pity land on you from around the table as you were with Arachne, Felix, and Clemensia.
“Did you know that he was going to do that?” Arachne hounded on you.
Clemensia added, “Is that not cheating?”
“I wish I knew,” you scoffed, continuing to look at the screen of Coriolanus staring at Lucy Gray with narrowed eyes. “He didn’t tell me anything.”
“Maybe it’s time you realize you can do better than Snow,” Felix grinned while you all watched as the peacekeepers dragged away Coriolanus. “Always more options around…”
“Felix, I would love for you to say that to his face,” Clemensia snickered at his poor attempt at flirting.
“Oh, please. No one would ever dare,” Arachne rolled her eyes at the two and began to get up as the bell rang.
You walked alongside the group with Felix on your side. You felt him place a hand on your back and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Let me know when you get tired of him, will you?”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Y/n!” Sejanus called your name from behind the group, walking quickly to catch your arm before you walked through the doors while everyone headed in. “What was that with Felix?”
He held a concerned expression, and the grip on your upper arm began to tingle. “Sejanus,” you tried to move your arm and he finally took notice, dropping his hand and muttering apologies.
“I didn’t mean to grab you that hard. I’m sorry.”
Taking a deep breath in you explained to him, “Coryo wants to make a fool out of me. You saw what he did in the cage. Felix is simply taking his chance.”
After Doctor Gaul had left the room, you neglected Coriolanus’ attempts to have a word with you, and you continued to keep a conversation with Sejanus. You felt the irritation that radiated off his body when he noticed that you were purposely ignoring him.
“He looks like he is going to murder me if I keep talking to you, Y/n,” Sejanus quietly pointed out as he looked back and forth from you to Coriolanus.
“He’s lucky if I don’t murder him for what he pulled,” the blank expression that was written across your face mildly scared Sejanus not knowing how you truly felt.
“At least acknowledge him or something, Y/n,” he pushed.
“And why should I?”
“Because, because this is unlike you and Coryo,” he tried to explain but failed to give any valid reasoning to you.
You turned to your other side and looked at him with darting eyes, “Hello, Coriolanus,” you articulated the entirety of his name. It felt foreign on your tongue.
He met you with perplexion at your sudden coldness, “Y/n/n. Dearest. What is the matter with you?” He knew that he had said or done something wrong as you gathered your things and went to Dean Highbottom to be excused.
“How was your little songbird, Coriolanus?” Arachne teased and was aware you could still hear them before you walked out of the room. Livia continued, “Fragile, little thing she is. I do hope her death is rather quick.”
“She’s okay.”
“Did everyone hear that?” Arachne looked around the room to those who were interested in where she was taking this. “Coryo made sure his songbird is okay.”
Coriolanus had no time for games as his mind wandered back to you, “Arachne. What is the point of all of this?” he snapped at her.
A smirk planted visibly across her face, “Is your Dearest okay, though?” she mocked him.
The realization was evident as it spread to his face. He looked over to Sejanus who avoided his stare by pretending he was focused on his paper instead.
“Felix, you know he has no shame in going after you once he sees this,” you mentioned knowing the rather possessive tendencies that Coriolanus had to the boy who followed you out.
Felix hid his nervousness with a chuckle, “What could he do? I’m the president’s son.”
“I’m just warning you,” you went through your bag to look for the rose Coriolanus had given to you this morning.
“Y/n. You don’t deserve what he did to you,” he tried to reach out for your hand but you had pulled away before he had gotten the chance to.
Having found the rose, you glanced around for a trash bin to toss it in, “Oh, believe me. I know.”
“Isn’t that one of the roses that Lucy Gray had in her hair earlier when we saw her on the screen?” Felix observed the rose in your hand and noticed it was the same pure white as the one that was in Lucy Gray’s hair. “Is that from him?” he made the connection with the frown you held.
“Yes.”
He bellowed another laugh as he realized the Coriolanus was found in even more mistakes. “That bastard.”
Coriolanus was searching for you throughout the academy grounds once the bell had rung. He found no luck in finding you until he passed a hallway he had never seen you go into before, and there you were standing by a pillar with Felix Ravinstill standing too closely for Coriolanus’ comfort. Though he could tell that you had not reciprocated Felix’s intentions, it didn’t help the rising jealousy that was consuming his mind.
For a moment, his vision was red as he saw Felix take his Grandma' am’s rose out of your hands. It had taken everything in him to not launch himself at Felix as he didn’t want to be convicted of murder before the Games even started. He was already in too far.
Your head turned as you heard a call of your name from Coriolanus, “Y/n.” Through the tone of his voice, you knew he was not asking for you but rather commanding.
Before you started to make your way to him, Felix caught your hand and pulled you back for a moment whispering in your ear while making direct eye contact with Coriolanus, “Make him pay for it, yeah? And don’t forget my offer will always stand for you.” Coriolanus stood there with a tense jaw and flared nostrils as he watched.
Felix smirked at him, seeing you walk towards his direction but going pass him, “Come along, Coriolanus.”
The silence was starting to get to the both of you as neither of you chose to speak a word before arriving in front of your house. Your parents rarely being home helped your situation because you figured that an argument was going to begin right as the door was closed behind you.
That’s how it always was. The picture perfect couple in the public eye to keep appearances up than a cracked frame when it was just the two of you.
“What was that about, Y/n?” he fumed the second the door was shut. You ignored him as you went to put your bag away in your room. “You cannot keep avoiding me here. And don’t think I am going to let go of what you did today.”
“What I did?” you talked baffled.
“You are making a joke out of us-”
“Is it fun for you?” you interrupted him, finally meeting his burning stare.
“Is what fun?” he gritted his teeth at the lack of specificity in your question.
You began to laugh maniacally and spat out, “Making a fool out of me. You already made me a laughing stock for everyone to see.”
“Is this about-” he started but you didn’t give him a chance to finish.
“Of course, this is about her, Coriolanus!” you proclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hold her hand? And for goodness sake, a district girl from 12 of all people! You are the one ruining us.”
“She is my tribute,” he defended.
“YOU GAVE HER A ROSE!” you yelled at him in frustration. “How do you not see a problem with that?”
“The rose is nothing compared to what you let Felix do today,” he said, enraged, taking steps closer to you, but your hand met his chest, keeping him at arm's length. “You are mine. Not his.”
“And what? She is also yours now too?” you closed your eyes as they welled with tears that you had tried to blink away.
He moved your hand and grasped it as he stood in front of you. He cupped your cheek with his other hand and softened his tone, “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“And how am I supposed to trust your word?” you threw at him and saw a look of hurt flash on his face but it had left just as quick. “Everyone told me it was a mistake to be with you.”
“Do you believe it was?” he blanked, tightening his hold on your hand.
“I do not know what to believe anymore.”
“It was an act. A farce. She needs to win,” he stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I need to win.”
Your body was tense with vexation and you spoke through clenched teeth, “Am I just another pawn in your game as well? The easiest one you can sacrifice?” It felt like your heart was ready to burst from out of your ribcage waiting for his answer.
He brushed a piece of fallen hair away from your face and uttered, “No, you are My Queen.”
#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow#fanfic#angst#sejanus plinth#lucy gray baird#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow fic#president snow#young coriolanus snow#thg#the hunger games#coriolanus snow angst#coriolanus snow fluff
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Give The People What They Want - Billy Loomis & Stu Macher
Pairing: Stu Macher x f! camgirl! reader (fem pronouns + has a pussy) x Billy Loomis
Genre: smut/NSFW
Word Count: 2.7k
Summary: you enlist the help of Billy and Stu to give your followers what they want--you losing your virginity
CW: camgirl! reader, slight modern! AU, live porn, exhibitionism, slight dubcon, threesome, double penetration (in the pussy), fingering, cum play, lots of cum, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, riding, backshots, praise/degradation, rough sex
hi sorry this is late i procrastinated writing it all day. also i have no idea what onlyfans/other porn streaming sites look like so im so sorry this whole post looks like a twitch chat lmfao
Kinktober Masterlist
PapaSugar471 has gifted $25: ride something for us baby
Camfan97: yeah stretch out that little pussy
You look at the chat and pretend to act shocked. “I don’t know if I can take something other than my fingers…”
You dip a finger teasingly into your dripping hole, leaning back on your bed to show them just how tight you are. You arch your back and whine, slowly pumping it in and out.
“See how tight I am?” You whine and push another finger into your pussy, “anything else is too big.”
WesC1996 has gifted $100: i would give anything to watch that pussy get ruined
PapaSugar471: our girl needs a good fuck
“You guys really wanna see me get fucked, hm?” You roll over onto your hands and knees, arching your back to give the webcam an even better view of your entrance. “You wanna see my poor, virgin pussy get ruined?”
You start to work yourself open on your fingers, lewd wet sounds starting to fill the air. You can hear notifications coming from your chat room, but you’re so lost in the pleasure you don’t turn around to look.
“F-fuck,” you whine and slip another finger inside, your gummy walls stretching around your knuckles. “I need cock so bad!”
The pleasure builds inside of you, threatening to explode out. There’s a sound behind you, a sound not from your stream. It almost sounds like your door opening, but you ignore it and focus on the way your fingertips dig into your walls.
Camfan97: who is that
Y/nluvr: ummm what
PapaSugar471: turn around
Blaviusx89: mods who is this guy
You’re so close to cumming when hands suddenly grab your hips, shoving you face first into the bed. You squeal, turning around to come face to face with a tall man in a white mask.
You feign surprise, letting out a blood curdling scream at the knife brandishing man in front of you. You almost applaud yourself for how realistic your scream sounds.
Stu looms over you, his back to the camera but out of the way just enough that you can still be seen. He grabs your knees and folds them into your chest, holding your legs up. He presses a hand down over your mouth, clamping down so you can’t be heard.
Since your followers have been hounding you lately to get fucked on stream, you thought you’d at least make it fun. That’s how you ended up asking Stu and Billy for a little favour.
He dips a gloved finger into your aching pussy, that pressure returning. You were so close to cumming before he showed up and now all you want is more. He fingers you slowly, refusing to give you what you want so quickly. You try to thrust your hips into him and drive his finger deeper, but he moves away every time you do.
Finally, he slips a second finger inside of you and starts to thrust faster. The width of two of his fingers is more than the three you just had inside of you, and your pussy strains to take all of him. He pumps them in and out of you at a devastating pace, your juices starting to splash upwards. Loud splashing noises fill the room, Stu’s assault on your pussy not letting up.
The pressure in your stomach is almost painful. Your walls tremble around his hand and threaten to let loose the waves of pleasure building inside of you. You drown out the rush of notifications from your laptop, all of your focus on your impending orgasm.
Stu’s hand on your mouth slips down to your neck, squeezing as you cum. Your whole body convulses, juices running down your pussy, into your ass and onto your bed.
He leans in and releases the pressure from your neck. “Look at your chat,” he runs a finger across your puffy clit, “I think they like this.”
PapaSugar471: so hot. now fuck her
Pepega69: this has to be scripted LOL
CamFan97: show that pussy whos boss
Y/nluvr: lucky guy….wish that was me
Stu gets up from your bed, pulling out his cock through an opening in the black robe. His cock is much bigger than you expected—fairly long and not bad in girth, either. The pink tip looks almost swollen, precum rolling off of it.
He pushes the tip against your cheek, rubbing his length across your mouth. You stick out your tongue, looking up at him through your lashes as he smacks his tip onto your mouth.
“Gonna fuck your face,” he groans. He looks at the camera, speaking through the voice changer, “should I fuck her face?”
Another rush of notifications fills the chat, the sound making you dizzy. Stu takes that as a yes, slowly pushing his cock into your mouth. Even with his tip tickling the back of your throat, you’ve just barely got half of his length into your mouth. Stu tangles a hand in your hair, using it like a rein to pull you closer.
You open your throat to him, wrapping your lips around his cock and sucking. His precum leaks into your mouth and runs down your throat. Stu tugs hard on your hair, pushing his cock beyond your throat and making you gag. You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose as his cock fills your mouth completely. Your jaw aches from the stretch, but you force yourself to take it. You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs as black spots start to crowd your vision.
When he pulls out, you look up at the camera with teary eyes, pouting with your swollen lips. The chat looks blurry and foreign to you, your head spinning from the lack of oxygen.
Stu climbs on the bed behind you, grabbing your hips and shoving you forwards. Your face is only a foot or so away from the camera, everyone able to see the drool and precum around your mouth and the tears in your eyes.
Stu rubs his cock across your ass and through your folds, whining quietly so that only you can hear him. Your pussy leaks with every touch, running down your thighs and making them stick together. He lines his cock up at your entrance, slowly pushing the tip in.
You’ve never been fucked before, and the stretch is almost painful. It knocks the air out of your lungs, but Stu tightens his grip on your hips and keeps going until he bottoms out. You whimper. He’s so deep that you can feel him in your stomach, the tip of his cock brushing up against your insides.
“He’s too deep,” you whine into the camera.
Stu takes that as a sign to keep going, pulling out his cock until only the tip remains, and then thrusting back into you hard. You gasp involuntarily, losing your balance on your elbows and face planting into the bed. It takes a few more thrusts before the pain goes away completely, replaced with the delicious feeling of his cock spreading your walls apart.
You moan so loud you’re sure the whole neighborhood can hear it, your pussy squelching everytime he pulls his cock out. Stu’s thrusts are merciless, his hips colliding with your ass every single time. His fingertips dig into your sides, desperate for a grip to keep up his stamina.
That familiar pressure builds inside of you, tying your stomach into knots, but it’s stronger than you’ve ever felt before. You look up at the camera through your lashes, your flushed and feverish skin making you look almost animated. There’s a loud burst of notifications, drowned out by your combined moans and the sound of skin on skin.
It only takes a few more thrusts before your muscles are giving out, legs shaking as you collapse. Stu manages to keep you up just long enough for him to cum inside of you, hot bursts of cum mixing with your juices as they pour out of you. He gives a few more sloppy thrusts, milking his cock with your tight cunt, before pulling out and letting you go.
Stu pulls you against his chest, laying you on your back. He hooks his knees around yours, spreading your legs wide for the camera. “Look at that,” he groans, his cum leaking out of your pussy. “Such a whore.”
Stu rubs up your chest, squeezing your tits together. He spreads your pussy for the camera, using another finger to push his cum back inside of you. “You’re not done yet, though.”
As if on cue, the door opens and a shorter man dressed in an identical costume enters. Billy. You stare at him as he stalks towards you, black robes looking like smoke in the dim red light of your room.
As soon as Billy enters the frame, your chat goes wild once again. He sits in front of the bed, mask only inches away from your aching, puffy pussy. He inhales your scent, almost moaning at the smell of sex.
“Thanks for warming her up for me,” his voice changer sounds almost identical to Stu’s. “Look at that stretched out cunt.”
Billy dips two fingers into your pussy, sliding them in and out easily. He thrusts them in only a few times before pulling them out and sucking on them, savouring the mixture of Stu’s cum and your juices.
He climbs over top of the two of you, “ready for me to fuck you?”
You bite your lip and nod. He swipes his thumb across your lips, prodding at you until you open up. He slips his thumb into your mouth and you suck, the taste of leather and sex heavy on your tongue. He trades his thumb for his index and middle finger, pushing them back so that they graze your throat.
His other hand reaches in for his cock, stroking it to life against your thigh. You can feel his hard length and the precum dripping off of it, your pussy starting to tingle in anticipation.
“How do you wanna fuck her?” Stu’s voice startles you, you’d almost forgotten he was there.
Billy slaps your pussy. “I think she’s had it too easy tonight,” he looks at the camera, “I think she should ride me.”
You shiver at the thought. Your pussy is already aching, all of your muscles weak just from fucking Stu. You look up at Billy pleadingly, but he just chuckles.
He lays down flat on his back, stroking his cock in one hand. Stu pushes you off of his chest. Grabbing your hips to help guide you into Billy’s lap. You straddle his legs, your pussy dripping all over his robes and waiting cock.
You lean forwards, pressing your tits against his chest, and reach back to grab his cock. Stu helps you guide it inside of you, both you and Billy moaning when his tip pops inside of you. You sit up more straight, rolling your hips back and taking him inch by inch. Billy keeps a vice grip on your hips while you ride him, helping you bounce up and down his cock.
He’s not as long as Stu, but he’s thicker, stretching you out even more. Your walls open up around him, pussy straining to take his girth. You rock your hips forwards until just his tip is inside before slamming them back down, almost screaming from the pleasure of his cock digging into your g-spot.
Billy starts guiding you up and down his length, thrusting his hips up desperately to get as deep inside of you as possible. Your orgasm builds much quicker this time, with the overstimulation and all. Your legs shake pathetically, your arms threatening to give out, but you still fuck yourself on him.
Billy slaps your ass hard, digging his fingers into the flesh. You whine and let yourself collapse onto his chest, barely moving on his cock as that pressure bursts and floods your body. Billy can feel your pussy contracting around him and the juices staining his costume, and decides to take mercy on you.
He wraps his arms around your back to keep you still and thrusts into you hard, his cock pistoning in and out of you faster than you can keep track. You lay on his chest, moaning weakly as he pummels your aching hole. It’s not long before his thrusts go sloppy and you feel his cock twitching inside of you, his hot cum coating your walls in white.
You moan from the feeling, eyes practically rolling back at how good he feels. Billy doesn’t pull out, his still hard cock resting inside of you.
“You want another round?” He asks.
For a second, you think he’s asking you but as you raise your head, you see he’s asking Stu, who’s stroking his cock. You swallow hard at the idea of another orgasm, already sweaty and feverish from the last few.
“Are you?”
Both boys laugh. Billy grabs your hips and spins you around, your back pressed against his chest. He buries his cock as far as he can inside you, wrapping his arms behind your knees to pull them up. Stu admires your swollen and aching pussy, glistening from all the fluids its seen tonight before crawling on top of you.
“W-wait—” You cry out as Stu rubs the head of his cock on your clit, “both of you?”
“So cute,” Billy mumbles into your ear, “that you think you have a choice.”
Just as he says that, Stu starts forcing his cock inside of you. It’s a tight fit with Billy already in there, but he manages. You almost cry from the pressure, an insane mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming you.
As soon as Stu bottoms out, you’re making a mess on their cocks again. Your pussy gushes around them, only acting as more lube for the two cocks inside of you.
“Look at that,” Stu groans, “already cumming and we haven’t started fucking you yet.”
“I always knew you were a whore, y/n.”
Their degradation has no effect on you, your brain turning into mush from another consecutive orgasm. You’re so full that you worry you may burst, both cocks feeling impossibly big inside of you.
Stu starts to thrust at a steady pace, forced to take it slow with how tight it is inside of you. The three of you moan in tandem with every movement, their cocks rubbing your walls with every breath. Billy tightens his grip on your knees, drawing them up even more to give Stu better access.
Stu laughs, pressing a hand against your tummy. “I can see my cock inside of you.”
You look up through hooded lids and can just barely see the outline of his cock under his hand. He presses a little harder, thrusting faster as your pussy starts to loosen up. You’re barely aware of your own moans or the praise the men sing at you as they ruin your pussy.
They take turns thrusting, your juices drenching the three of you and your bedsheets. It feels like hours that they fuck you, cocks alternating pumping inside of you. Your stomach fills with knots, that familiar pressure coming back.
Stu cums first, cock twitching and shooting another massive load of cum inside of you. It sets off a chain reaction, with your orgasm coming next. You clench so tight around their cocks that it’s almost painful, all of your senses going numb. Black spots dance at your vision, threatening to send you spiraling into unconsciousness. Billy cums last, another load of cum packing your pussy impossibly tight. You’re so full it’s overwhelming.
Stu and Billy pull out, releasing you onto your soaked mattress. They move the laptop closer to you, Billy folding your legs up again so that the viewers can get a good look at your ruined pussy.
“She’s gushing cum,” Billy says into the voice changer. “So much for being a virgin….this one’s an absolute whore.”
They each hook a finger into your pussy, stretching it enough that the mixture of cum runs out of you. You weakly sit up, looking at yourself in the camera. Your pussy is open, filled with cum and swollen from the overstimulation. You hardly even recognize it.
Billy and Stu disappear off camera, probably headed off to get you water and a cold cloth, leaving you staring into the flashing red light of the camera.
#scream x reader#scream smut#scream#scream x you#ghostface x female reader#billy loomis ghostface#stu macher ghostface#stu macher x you#stu macher x female reader#stu macher x reader#billy loomis x stu macher x reader#Billy Loomis x reader#billy loomis x you#Billy Loomis smut#stu macher smut#Ghostface smut#ghostface x reader#Ghostface x You
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Hello!!! For the requests, can I request one for Aegon II? Pregnancy kink and maybe some family fluff with reader and Aegon's kids?
Divine Honour.
PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader
WORDS: 1,515.
WARNINGS: domesticity, references of p in v sexual intercourse, pregnancy kink/breeding kink, lactation kink, breast play, swearing, possessive!Aegon ii, slight exhibitionism.
A/N - literally anything that involves Aegon with kids, domesticity and breeding/pregnancy kink is my weakness... I am a whore like that. hope you enjoy, I've combined these two requests :)
also dedicating this as a little gift to you all in honour of the King's bday!!!!
"Father! When can we choose an egg for the babe? Meraxes has laid a fresh clutch!"
"How much longer must we wait for this babe?!"
"B-Bub!"
The uproar of their high-pitched, eager voices left Aegon defeated, as he swiftly picked his youngest in his bulky arms, lifting the little princess onto his seated lap, where she settled herself comfortably. Babbling incomprehensible sounds [as she was still yet a babe herself, only able to muster a few coherent words] and idly pointing at your round, swollen belly. Your elder sons on the other hand, twins nonetheless, found themselves encircling their father like hounds, pouncing at his sides, desperate for answers, as you waddled yourself over to the edge of the royal bed, where they outnumbered Aegon.
"How many times must I tell you this, boys? When the babe is ready to come, it will come! Any day now, you'll have either a baby brother or little sister that you can dote on and protect for hours on end... Is that understood?"
The silver-haired boys both ecstatically eyed each other, giddy with excitement and anticipation for the newest arrival into the family, refusing to stand still. Turning towards you, your youngest only a few minutes apart from his elder, Rhaego, warmly embraced your side, careful with his grip around your protruding belly.
"You will find us when the babe is coming? Promise us, mother, that you will!"
The streak of worry tinged across his small, growing face, was enough to melt your heart. He was your exact twin, with some of Aegon's Valyrian-esque features. A smaller boy than his brother, and far more emotionally attached to you.
"Of course, my love. I will need you by my side, okay?"
"Now the lot of you, off to bed! Your mother needs her rest-"
Aegon's deep, stern voice clouded the room, before being met with the sighs and sounds of defeat from his twin boys. Gesturing for your lady in waiting, Sara, to make herself present: leading the boys, Rhaego and Aenys, out, as you warmly kissed each goodnight. Your littlest babe remained safe and sound, wrapped in Aegon's arms, desperately trying to stay awake, as she drifted in and out of sleep.
"And this little princess—”
The sudden drop in his tone, speaking in a volume only above a whisper, and far more softer, was enough to prove that your little girl was Aegon's weakness.
"My little Aelora, just doesn't want to sleep. She has far too much fun with her Daddy."
He plants a tender peck on her head, as she brightly smiles up at her father, taking much of his likeness, before rubbing her small eyes with her tiny fists, edging closer to slumber.
"Here—Here, she just needs her mother's boring touch to put her to sleep”, you tauntingly exclaim.
In exchange for his amusement, you take the babe in your arms, cradling her above your belly, as you gently sway her, lulling her to sleep. Aegon finds himself walking towards the edge of the bed, as he begins to undress, unbuttoning his tunic. Watching you from a meek distance, he feels a palpable twitch beneath the dark fabric of his pants, feels more tighter than he had noticed moments before. His thick cock stirring with excitement, as he witnesses the surreal vision of you holding his babe, whilst carrying his other unborn child.
"You truly are a divine sight, my love... You've never looked more beautiful than you do now."
His heavy words caught your immediate attention, as your focus pans from the sleeping babe to Aegon, looking rather ravenously at you. Although his orbs a light lilac shade, his gaze felt rather dark and menacing, his plump, cherry lips licked and glazing in the candle light. He looked as though he could devour you right there and then, you were rather familiar with this particular sight of your husband.
"Is that so?" You softly chuckle, turning from Aegon to the silent babe, before resuming your attention once more unto him.
"I do not feel so. I feel I am at my heaviest, Aeg. You honestly do not mean to say I am-"
Pouncing to stand, his heavy and heated footsteps pace towards you, a firm grip tugging at your silky night gown by your hips.
"Speak no more, Y/N. You cannot fathom how irresistible you look to me in this very instance... Put her down, I think she's deep in her sleep now, Mumma."
The firmness in his deep voice, almost a mimic of a growling predator, was an occurrence you saw in court, with your husband upholding his position as King. Aegon had established himself as a formidable man, despite the doubts surrounding his succession. You obeyed his command, gently lowering Aelora into her crib, as you nestled the babe in her minuscule, handwoven duvet.
"Come here—”
Gesturing you towards the end of the bed, his wolfish eyes lingered over your every inch, every detail of exposed skin, his hands wandering in sync with the insatiable lust in his eyes, as though it was your wedding night all over again.
"You think you do not look divine? Carrying my precious babe not only in your arms, but in your womb as well? Do you not think it an honour to carry and bear the seed of the King? Need I fuck you s'more and plenty, my dearest. Swelling you with as many children as your body can take, for you to understand your significance, hmm?"
Thoughtless against his lust-filled words, you hadn't even realised how swift and deliberate Aegon's sensual movements were, snaking his sturdy arms around your swollen, tender body, weak against your husband's touch. His soft lips latched to your tender skin, suckling at the sweet crevices of your neck, feeling your Grace slowly making his way carefully down, towards your busting cleavage, as he sat himself down by the end of the bed, pulling you closer towards him, trapped between his thickly sprawled thighs.
"Does your King not make you feel good? Have I failed you as your sovereign and as a husband, hmm? Need I spoil you more than I have already?"
Candidly unbuttoning the few clasps of your low-cut ivory nightgown, your tender, perky breasts instantly exposed themselves to your Grace, each tit filling with milk in preparation for the royal babe. The wintry, crisp air of the night left your skin crawling with chills, and Aegon's calloused hands, groping at each breast did not numb the feeling at all.
"N-No- Ahh, Aeg—"
"So fucking sensitive, look at you... I did this, I did this to you, you do well to remember that—"
"Y-Yes, y-your Grace," You feebly whimper, one hand firmly clasped over Aegon's broad shoulder and the other tangled in the short strands of his platinum locks: desperate to keep composure, as he taunts your delicate body. Flicking his thumb over the peaking buds of your raw, sensitive nipples, deeply chuckling to himself as he earns a helpless moan from you.
"Your body knows exactly how to take, my beloved. Knows what it is expected of, made to take my seed so fucking well, huh? Look at how steady your belly grows day by day, our babe kicking healthily inside... How these tits swell with that sweet, heavenly milk of yours, hmm? You were born for this, my dear. Made ripe for the taking of the King himself."
Without a second to spare, not even so much for a breath, Aegon's ravenous mouth latched itself onto your breast. His warm, slick tongue flicking at your nipple, suckling fiercely, eager for a drop of flavour. Instinctively your hands immediately drop onto his hefty shoulders, nails digging into the thick padding of his apparel. As you gradually grew more accustomed to the exhilarating sensation, your hands travelled their way back up, busying themselves by tugging and pulling at his silver strands: occasionally even guiding Aegon's head deeper into your bosom, keen to satisfy your King's insatiable hunger.
M-My body at th-the disposal of th-the King... The g-greatest honour b-bestowed. K-Keep fucking me, keeping m-me full of his seed—"
The mouth clasped tightly around your breast, a hand remained groping, kneading at your swollen flesh, whilst his other roamed below, firmly squeezing and palming at your ass cheek.
His stout chest heaving breathlessly, as he regained himself: Aegon's mesmerizingly violet eyes fluttered shut momentarily, before gazing upon you intently, a sly smirk strewed across his handsome face.
"Hmm, that's right, my beloved... We might even populate the Red Keep alone, and everyone will know exactly who you answer to... Everyone shall know that I be the man who fucks you hard time and time again, how well your pretty cunt takes my cock and seed. And when your body shows, everyone will know how willing your body is craving to be full of me. My beloved loves the attention from her King, yes?"
"I do, Aeg."
"And I love you... And the children, even the ones you will bear in time... I love you, just as you are."
general taglist - @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1
Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @jawline-of-steel @daughter-of-the-stars11
credit for divider - @/firefly-graphics
#aegon ii targaryen#tom glynn carney#aegon ii targaryen imagines#aegon ii imagines#aegon ii targaryen imagine#aegon ii imagine#aegon ii targaryen fanfic#aegon ii fanfic#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction#aegon ii fanfiction#aegon ii fluff#aegon ii smut#aegon ii x fem!reader#aegon ii x y/n#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd imagines#hotd imagine#hotd fanfic#hotd fanfiction#team green
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Hiiii! Love your clarisse oneshots ^^. Could you possibly do one where Fem!reader is the daughter of Hades and has a hellhound as a pet that absolutely adores clarisse? Reader also has a similar personality to clarisse, loves to fight and has a big pride but only lets her guard down around Clarisse.(also possibly has her own electric weapon of your choice)Thank you!!
creatures of the night
clarisse la rue x fem!hades'cabin!reader
warnings: none
a/n: sorry this is so short, hope u like it<3
wc; 1.1k
You would never consider your relationship with your father as better than anyone else's relationship with their own parent in camp.
But when you had been claimed by Hades as well as being gifted a long black javelin with gold wrapped around the sharp edge on the same night you arrived at camp Half Blood, it seemed well established to everyone else and including yourself, that your father acknowledges your existence proudly.
Being one of the people in the small list of forbidden children, had created a fearsome reputation around your presence, and honestly speaking, you enjoy the privileges that come with it.
Although it was hard making friends considering your less friendly personality, some campers stuck by your side anyways. Those who bore you enormous respects and had been intrigued by your mysterious air instead of intimidated.
One of them being the infamous child of Ares, Clarisse La Rue.
Beautiful, strong and hot headed, Clarisse La Rue.
The two of you are often compared as the two sides of the same coin. Your personalities differ from eachother in many ways, but when it came to your goals and aims, you both are usually on the same team.
It's safe to say that you are less hostile than Clarisse. You prefer to keep to yourself whilst she prefered to assert dominance onto the other campers. And yet you are the more feared than her.
Clarisse is commonly brutal and unrelenting, but you usually saved up the worst of your tricks for when necessity calls for it. For now, intimidation worked well enough.
What's funny enough, is how Clarisse herself had a certain trepidation when she first befriended you. She learned soon that you were just another demigod girl just like she was, glory aside.
One of the instances where she felt that she had truly seen you as you are, all the facade dropped down, was when you first introduced her to your hound, Cerberus.
Your father had gifted him to you for your 15th birthday. It was one of yoir proudest moments in life. Demigods are almost never cared for that much by their parents, and so to have your coming of age be recognised by your father was a huge thing.
"Is that not the same name as Hades' own three headed hound?" She asked, staring at it for afar from the corner of your bed.
"I know, that's why I named him that." You explained to her as you're sat criss-crossed on the floor, scratching the beasts' chin.
Cerberus, once he deemed Clarisse as not a threat, rolled down on the ground on his stomach.
"Look at him, such a good boy." You were distracted by your new pet all day, ignoring your poor girlfriend who had come over to your cabin to spend time with you. "He's almost as tall as you." Clarisse spoke sarcastically, picking you on your height.
"That's not a fair observation. Most things are almost as tall as me." You responded, still not looking up.
"Are you just gonna keep standing there staring at me?" You asked her finally, realising just how weird the distance between you two were.
Clarisse was hesitant, frowning at your pet like he was some sort of threat. "I...think I'm good here." She muttered loud enough for your ears. "Oh, come on."
Clarisse shook her head as you complained about her irrationality. "Look at him, he's friendly." And he was, Cerberus had warmed up to you quickly and have not shown a single tendency for violence against your girlfriend.
"Come and say hello to him, Clarisse." You called out to her again.
You hear her sigh from the other side of the room. After a few more minutes pass, her footsteps grow louder as she moves nearer to you.
Clarisse squats down to meet Cerberus and flinched as he lifts his head up to sniff her. You reached for her hand, trying to get him to smell it. She pulls her hand back at first, but after a few more pulls, Clarisse relents and lets the hound give her knuckles a lick. "That tickles." She mumbled under her breath.
"He likes you, see." She gives a resigned look, like she's just going along with what you're saying. "No, I'm serious, look at how nice he's acting." You nudged your head towards Cerberus' head, encouraging her to give him a pet
Clarisse braves herself to give him a few strokes on his ears and found that he particularly likes that notion. "I guess he's not that bad." She admitted at last, pulling out a smile from you. "I told you."
"So what is he then? Some sort of guard dog?" She inquires. The gods would gift their children with tools that can be used, never something useless, like a domesticated pet. And from the looks of it, Cerberus is definitely not meant to be a some cute little friend.
"I don't know." You answered honestly.
"It's not like my dad does a lot of talking to me, but he gave me something from the underworld, something that's set as a reminder of him and his place above. I'd like to view it as some sort of stepping stone. Like I'm one step closer to him because of Cerberus."
It's not surprising that your end goal is to follow on your father's footsteps, no one really knows what the real secret to make their godly parent to care about them is.
It is often assumed that glory was the key, and yet, the best fighters in camp a
re usually the ones who resent their parents the most. You often prayed and hoped that you wouldn't ever have to cross that threshold.
"I'm sure he sees it that way too." Clarisse offered kindly. She knew all too well how much it meant to be noticed by their absent fathers, even if so slightly.
She slso knew deep down that even if your father refused to notice the lengths you would be willing to go for him, she did. And she would break the world in two for you if your father wouldn't. And you would do the same for her.
Clarisse leans her back against the lower frame of the bed, a small smile on her face as she watches you scratch the hound's chin whilst kissing the spot in between his eyes.
It is truly rare to catch sight of either daughters of Ares or Hades' being as gentle and playful as this, and Clarisse is grateful that these kind of intimacies are reserved for small private moments.
That same night, as she sleeps with her arms around your waist, Cerberus laying down by the foot of the bed, Clarisse realises that she would do anything for the bond between the two of you to prevail.
#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#pjo series#pjo#pjo x reader#pjo tv show#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#dior goodjohn
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Sweetest Girl
Pairing: Regina George x Reader
Warning(s): slight reference to bad home life for reader?
Word Count: 1700, Part 1/?
Anonymous Asked: hello! I was wondering if I could request a regina x fem!reader fic where the the reader is known as the sweetest girl in school that everyone loves and regina is like “what’s so great about her” and just ends up falling in love with her
Enjoy! I intend to keep this one going :D
Regina knew that she wasn’t excelling in her chemistry course this year but she certainly didn’t think she was failing. But the teacher asked her to stay behind after class and gave her a solemn look as she explained that with Regina’s most recent test score (which was, admittedly, abysmal), her overall grade in the class would drop from barely passing to failing.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? I’m a senior, it’s not like I can retake this class!” Regina griped, beginning to feel her stomach turn over in panic.
“Calm down, Miss George. You still have time to improve your grade. I’d recommend that you start working with a tutor. One of your classmates is available for such an arrangement as it turns out. She’s a very gifted student who is doing quite well in this class. She will likely tutor you not expecting anything at all in return. Are you willing to reach out to her?”
Regina crossed her arms in front of her chest, “I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”
Regina’s teacher formed a thin-lipped smile, “No, Miss George. You don’t.”
Regina took the slip of paper with the tutor’s contact info scribbled on it from the teacher and left the classroom for her locker in a huff.
Gretchen and Karen were waiting for her and immediately, Gretchen was hounding the blonde in concern, “is everything okay, Regina? What did the teacher want?”
Regina sighed, “I’m failing. I need a tutor, I guess.”
“Oh no!!!” Gretchen exclaimed.
Karen tapped into the conversation in a brief moment of focus and said, “don’t worry, Regina. I failed chemistry last year and had to be tutored, too.”
Regina rolled her eyes, “yes Karen, and you fucked your chemistry tutor instead of studying.”
Karen smiled, “oh yeah!”
Gretchen chimed in, “well, it’s going to be okay Regina. I bet you’ll do really well if someone can take their time to explain the concepts to you. Do you know who will tutor you?”
Regina nodded, “yeah, the teacher gave me this name. Someone in my class.” Regina passed the slip of paper to Gretchen.
When the small brunette read the name she made an excited sound, “oh! I know her, she’s the sweetest ever! You’ll like her Regina. She’s like, the nicest girl in the school.”
Regina narrowed her eyes and snatched the paper back, “why would I like the nicest girl in school? She sounds like a try-hard… What makes her so great?”
-
You were enjoying your lunch outside in the courtyard because it was a sunny day out. You scrolled through your phone and an email notification caught your eye so you opened it right away. The email read: Hey, I need a chemistry tutor. Teacher gave me your name. Can you? -Regina George
Oh, wow. You thought. Regina George wants me to tutor her?
You typed your response back and sent it off with a whoosh: Hi Regina, I’m happy to help! Do you want to meet to go over logistics today after school? I’ll be in the library if you want to swing by :) you can also feel free to text me if that’s easier
You sent Regina your phone number at the end of the email and in a few minutes, you got a text from, presumably, Regina. She said, “okay whatever” then another few seconds passed and she sent another text, “this is Regina, obviously.”
You responded, “haha yes, I figured!”
The little bubble that indicated she was typing popped up for a long moment and then disappeared. Then it popped back up and turned into a simple text, “k.”
-
Later that same day, you were sitting in the library doing your homework in the welcome peace and quiet. As you were working, you saw the blonde out of the corner of your eye.
Regina walked down the half staircase into the library and flipped her hair over her shoulder, her tote bag hung from the crook of her elbow, and her other hand held an iced latte notably not from the student-run cafe but instead from the Starbucks down the road from the school.
Regina approached your table and plopped her bag down on the floor and pulled out the chair across from you, “went to get a coffee before meeting you, hope you don’t mind. You didn’t want anything did you?”
You smiled and shook your head, “I don’t mind, and no thank you, I’m okay. I don’t drink coffee.”
Regina raised an eyebrow as she sat down, “you don’t drink coffee? How do you survive?”
You laugh lightly, “I guess I’ve never really needed it, and I prefer tea anyway.”
“Huh…” Regina didn’t seem satisfied with your answer but she dropped it, “so, do you just stay here to do homework after school?”
“Usually, yeah! I like to get as much done as I can before the library closes.”
“Why would you want to spend more time in this godforsaken school?”
You swallowed hard, “Oh, um… just ‘cause.”
“Kay…”
“So, do you want to talk about tutoring for chemistry?”
“Sure.”
“Okay great, do you know how often you want to meet or how many hours you want to do per week?”
“Christ, I don’t know.”
“It’s okay!” You assured her, “let’s just start with two hours a week for now. We can meet twice a week for one hour each and see if that feels good or if we need to work more or drop down to just an hour.”
“Alright.”
“Does this time work for you?”
“Yeah.”
“And what about another day in the week?” You asked.
Regina shrugged, “Thursdays?”
“Perfect!” You jotted down a note of the schedule in your planner.
“Do you tutor a lot?” Regina asked, then sipped her coffee.
“Not super often. When I do, it’s usually because a teacher recommended me.”
“Are you like a teachers pet or something?”
“I don’t know, I just like helping.”
Regina was silent for a moment. She was considering you. Examining you.
“So for chemis-“ you began.
“You know, it’s like weird how nice you are. Like, it’s off putting.”
“Oh… off putting?”
“Yeah, ya know. Like you don’t have to be nice all the time, or for free. Not everyone deserves kindness.”
“I mean, I disagree, but-“
“I can pay you, you know. For tutoring me, I mean.”
“You don’t have to, though. I don’t need you to.”
Regina scoffed, “you’re just gonna give me your time and energy for nothing?”
“Yes. I just want to help. It’s not transactional.”
“Oh, you sweet thing. Everything is transactional. Maybe you don’t want my money but you expect to get something out of this, don’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t.”
You were frustrated, “how do you know that? You don’t know me or what I’d do!”
“No one does anything for free. No one performs a service for free. No one is that nice.” Regina took another drink of her coffee.
“Are you trying to ruin this?”
Regina raised an eyebrow again but was quick to respond, “am I making you mad?”
“You’re frustrating me. I’m just trying to do a nice thing.”
“So you don’t want me to question your motives?”
“No! I mean…” you huffed angrily, you felt your cheeks grow increasingly red and hot, “there is no motive.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Look, do you want my help or not?”
“I want to be tutored. What I don’t want is to owe you anything.”
“You don’t owe me anything!”
Regina’s expression turned into the slightest smirk as she stood up from the table and grabbed her tote bag off the floor, “I’ll meet you again on Thursday to review this week’s course materials. When I see you again, I expect an answer about what exactly it is you hope to get out of doing this for me.”
With that, Regina turned and left the library, her hair swishing behind her.
You hadn’t noticed until then, but you had crumpled up a piece of paper in your hand during that conversation.
-
Thursday came around too soon for your liking. You had no answer for Regina’s demand, other than the truth, which you didn’t want to tell her.
At 4:05 pm sharp, Regina waltzed down the stairs into the library once again, tote bag in hand, removing her sunglasses in an elegant motion, a drink carrier from Starbucks with two drinks in her other hand.
You watched as Regina gracefully spit her chewing gum into a trash can on her way while walking up to your table.
She took one of the cups out of the drink carrier and set it down in front of you, “chai latte. Is that okay?”
Your jaw dropped open a bit as you stared stupidly at the drink and then back up at her, “y-yeah… that’s really nice, thank you.”
Regina didn’t sit down, “do you have an answer for me?”
You sighed, “you really won’t accept that I just want to help you out?”
Regina wordlessly shook her head.
You looked down at your hands and saw that they were shaking slightly, so you hid them under the table in your lap and kept your eyes averted from Regina as you whispered, “I do what I can to avoid spending time at home.”
Regina remained silent.
You looked back up at her. Her jaw was set and she had a severe expression. You watched her exhale a heavy breath through her nose, nostrils flaring, then she sat down across from you and dropped her bag onto the floor.
“Okay,” she said simply. “Let’s get started then.”
-
You spent the next hour reviewing that week's chemistry lessons with Regina.
When you decided to stop for that evening, Regina reached across the table and wrote something into your notebook.
“There, that’s my address. You don’t have to check in with me, or anything, you can just come over whenever you want to.”
“Regina, are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. My mom loves having company to entertain, and there’s plenty of space in my room for you to be comfortable and do work.”
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
“How about, ���thank you?’”
You laughed and nodded, “thank you, Regina. Really.”
The blonde stood up and returned her notes to her bag, “‘course. See ya tomorrow in class.”
“See you then…”
#regina george x reader#regina george fanfiction#regina george renee rapp#mean girls 2024#regina george fluff#mean regina george#my fanfiction#my writing#original writing#fem reader#anonymous request#request fulfilled
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after her father.
jude bellingham x fem!reader + mini daughter bellingham. fluff.
jude who became a star for his daughter.
Your daughter giggled loudly, clapping her hand aggressively as Jude scored a goal for Real Madrid, his team. In your arms, your daughter jumped up and down showing off her growing teeth. You smiled widely, eyes twinkling in adoration to see your daughter being merry and joy at the loud cheer for her father.
Jude ran in front of the crowd, his eyes eagerly dancing through the crowd to find his girls to meet the gaze of his little one clapping hands like everyone else. As the whole stadium of Bernabéu roared for Jude Bellingham, his heart soared high seeing his daughter in the midst of the crowd clapping and smiling just for him.
He smiled, blowing a few kisses repeatedly toward your direction, your daughter excitedly nodded trying to catch his kisses. "Mommy, blow papa kiss." She mumbled, holding your cheeks tight with her small hand. With her order, you jokingly nodded following her action.
As the players gathered to cheer Jude, the billboard on the stadium captured your daughter with her doe eyes sparkling bright and her big smile. "Do the pose you prepared for papa." You whispered in her ears, as she giggled to your words tingling in her ears.
Jude is a superstar in her eyes. As he is away for matches or training, all she would watch is more contents of her father uploaded on social media. The constant giggles of Jude scoring a goal or making a scene with the referee. Your daughter learnt quickly about her father through youtube, regardless if it were some cuss words or some facial expression, she followed through.
Jude squinted his eyes gazing at his little girl as she swung her arm open wide just like her father as you strengthen your hold onto your baby protectively. People stood up from the benches cheering and applauding for Jude’s daughter. He stood in admiration to see how quickly his daughter is becoming like him.
"That's my baby taking after me, innit." Jude chuckled, going back to his position with the rest of his teammates laughing with him. This win is an absolute must, considering his daughter being in one of the benches where he has to still be the superstar that he is for his daughter.
You walked through the tunnel to meet Jude as your daughter waddled her way with her tiny little feet to meet her father. After the billboard incident, there were numerous people waving at your daughter with their phone hounding and recording her.
She paused, you bent down to meet her eye level, she wrapped her arm around your neck. “Mommy, can I go to papa?” She whispered as she twirled onto her hair playfully messing up the hairstyle you made for her. You smiled slowly letting go of her hand, seeing as a sign, she jumped before pacing forward to her father who had been waiting for her in the field.
You glanced worriedly but Jude had been on both of his knees opening his arm open for his little one to run into his embrace. All your worries vanished as she had landed on his arm safely. "I got you, i got you, i got you." Jude mumbled under his breath. You gently walked toward the father-daughter duo that were having their own moment. Jude glanced at the side to see you approaching before he motioned you to come faster.
"Hi" You whispered softly, wrapping your hand around his forearm. Jude smiled down, leaning in for a peck. Your daughter covered her eyes, "Papa, me first." Your daughter pulled Jude away from you, holding his cheeks tight.
In that moment, you were burning with love.
#jude bellingham scenarios#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham imagines#jude bellingham fluff#jude bellingham imagine#jaehymrkwrites
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please do clarisse la rue x aphrodite reader who’s gorgeous and glowing and short like a ball of sunshine
- opposites attract -
Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Aphrodite! Reader
An - ive gotta rewrite by Abby series bc it’s not going the way I want it 😭 I wasn’t really sure exactly what to write so I hope this is good 🧍♀️🧍♀️
Everyone at camphalf blood knew who you were. Not for negative reasons however. Being a daughter of Aphrodite not only boosted your social status but it was also your actions.
The first to volunteer to help when the infirmary was low on staff, ready to take on any chore from helping run the camp store to labor jobs that required you to get dirty. Even when the saytrs felt as though they were being ignored by the demigods you helped give them their voice.
So when you of all people started dating clarisse the most intimidating person at camp it was a bit of a culture shock. Though with you sweet and kind nature you seemingly took the most aggressive cabin and somehow made them slightly calmer.
Though when people tried to approach clarisse about you her former aggressiveness would come back. Most things that involved you got her heated. The recent endeavor being you both Separated for the weeks capture the flag game.
“No you’re on my team it’s not for discussion” clarisse spoke as if she knew it was fact, her arms crossed and her armor on you couldn’t help but fall back in love with her.
“But it is for discussion because I’m not” you chuckled softly, a gentle smile crossing your features. “I’ll be fine Claire I’m not a child”
“I’m aware of that but what if someone on my team hurts you? Or what if you get hurt by one of our traps I don’t like not being able to protect you” she placed her hands on her hips trying to open her stance to you.
“Aww” you gave a playful frown tucking a loose curl behind her ear. Placing both hands on her cheeks you gave them a small squeeze. “I’m ok, besides I have charmspeak remember I know how to handle myself”
Her shifting weight and the look of annoyance on her face all showed she did care about you deep down, and as much as people wanted to Deny it clarisse was yours just as much as you were hers. “I’ll see you after the game pretty” stepping on your tippy toes you gave her a kiss.
Turning to start walking away clarisse began yelling instructions to you. “Wait! Make sure your breast plate is tight— oh! And be sure to wear a helmet an—-“
“I got it clarisse!” You laughed back at her, giving her a final wave.
——-
The games had already began with you being in charge of reclaiming the flag with Luke and his team.
Stepping through the forest you carefully looked around worried that maybe someone would jump out. Which like it was a movie happened. Red team kids running out with blades swinging. Blue team defending themselves and you mentally scolding yourself for not wearing enough armor.
Before you even realized it you had a deep cut in your calf. Landing on the ground with a cry of pain you looked back instantly having to dodge the falling camper.
“You good!” Luke shouted helping you up, limping some you found your balance breathlessly nodding. The red team currently had either been knocked to the ground or retreated in fear.
“The flags up ahead.. behind Zeus’s fist if I’m correct” you took a stance against a tree, using it as support. “I’m gonna stay here”
“You’re sure you’re fine” he asked cautiously. Even though luke knew clarisse couldn’t touch him he still didn’t want to hear her mouth afterwards.
You nodded giving him a semi confident look. “Just go” You chuckled sending him off.
Though it was quiet for a while you heard a crying like sound. Confused you pushed off the tree and started limping towards the noise. Through the trees and down to the creek you saw a hurt hell hound.
Most times you would of killed a monster without hesitation but this time… this time she wasn’t a monster. It seemed crazy but this hell hound almost seemed domesticated.
Slowly walking towards her You knelt down beside the dog. At first she bared her teeth at you acting as though you wanted to hurt her, but once she realized you meant no harm she pressed her snout against you.
Once gaining her trust you began to examine her leg. Realizing it was broken you made the conscious decision to quickly leave to grab some sticks for a splint. Petting the hound softly you got up limping away some.
The ground was filled with a multitude of twigs though finding your two heafty pieces of wood was easy. The sound of the conch and a campers scream filled your ears, nearly running back to the creek you saw about all of the kids from the two teams with clarisse and Luke in the creek, their weapons aimed at the hound that looked as tough she was going to attack.
“Stop! Oh my gods stop!” You screamed running in-front of her causing clarisse to dodge to the side and roll fully into the creek.
“Move!” She shouted. The other campers looking equally confused as you shouted a no back at her. “Are You insane?! Don’t go near it” clarisse scrambled out the water to quickly grab your arm.
You turned around trying to pull free only to be unsuccessful. The tension around you made you want to cry but right now isn’t the time. “I need you to trust me… please” you practically begged.
She looked you up and down with a look of worry before gently letting you go. Without another thought you knelt down to the dog, ripping your shirt in half exposing your stomach and began wrapping the hounds broken hind.
The dog was huge, given that she was a monster she was bigger than even a Doberman and beefier than a pit but that didn’t mean she was aggressive.
A few of the other councilors walked down to the water with Chiron standing on a rock near by. “She’s harmless!” You shouted trying to get the defensive campers to become calm. “See! If she wanted to hurt anyone she would of!”
Your urgency only convinced maybe a handful of kids. “It’s a monster.” Clarisse scoffed.
“Yet she didn’t try to bite me when I put her leg into a splint” You corrected. The hound nudged her head into your leg in a comforting way, trying to get your hand to begin to pet her.
Annabeth took a step forward, extending a hand the hound sniffed her before licking up her arm. “Seems harmless to me” the wise girl shrugged.
Chiron made his way down looking across the water and holding a hand up signaling for every camper to relax. “This game is dismissed. Grover summon the Cloven council, get them to set up a meeting so we can figure out what to do for the hound, and for you.. keep her with you until we have a plan”
———
The following week camp halfblood had a new pet. A hellhound you named Rosie.
Sitting with clarisse by the lake letting the water run over your legs from the docs. I’m the distance you saw Rosie swimming around enjoying playing with the water naiads.
“How did you know she wasn’t ruthless” clarisse asked turning her head to look at you.
“I guess the same way I knew you weren’t as mean as everyone assumes. It’s your aura, Rosie’s was soft and hurt begging for any form of kindness” you turned looking at her. The sun light casted across clarisses features illuminating her eyes and skin. “Your so beautiful” you smiled leaning over and softly kissing her
Clarisse smiled wide returning the kiss. She pulled away only keeping her hand on the side of your face. “What did I do to deserve someone like you”
You shrugged your shoulders happily. “Working out helped”
She pulled away with a playful attitude. Causing you to laugh and reach out to her once more.
#lesbian#wlw#clarisse la rue#clarisse pjo#clarisse x reader#percy jackson fanfiction#clarisse larue#clarisse my beloved#percy jackson show#pjo fandom#clarisse x female reader#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse x you
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slip of the tongue part 2 - jealous
Theseus Scamander x Reader
“He was all over you,” he hisses. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.”
summary: after confessing your feelings for (and sleeping with) your boss, theseus, you join his brother newt's team of wizards attempting to thwart the notorious gellert grindelwald. when you're tasked with distracting and seducing a powerful dark wizard on your first mission, theseus gets uncharacteristically and fiercely jealous.
fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.
category: smut with plot
warnings: 18+ smut, (light) mdom/femsub elements, unprotected penetration, semi-public sex, jealousy/possessive behavior, also the reader suffers brief unwanted sexual advances in a scene
part one / part two
Your dreams are uninventive. Your nightmares are even less so.
Often you are hounded by dogs: drooling, snapping canines, bloodthirsty past the point of cognizance, they’re more open mouths than animals. Or, you’re standing on the hill where your old orphanage used to sit in North London, barefoot on the roof while the rest of London floods below, water rising, you know you’re going to drown. Or some other tired, boring allegory for your past catching up with you, at last, your blessings, your wand, crumbling to ash—you know what the dreams mean and they don’t scare you anymore.
But tonight you are perfectly dreamless. The dream dogs, the wintry world outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the empty London streets, it cannot touch you now. The fireplace is crackling and warm orange light spills in beneath the door from the living room.
Theseus’s arm is draped over your body, your head is on his chest. Every part of your body where your bare skin meets his buzzes with contentment. His room is like a sanctuary, his arms a house that holds you.
You don’t think you’ve slept for even a full hour. It’s still dark outside when you feel Theseus jostling your shoulder.
“Y/N. Wake up, darling.”
You sigh in response and are about to put up a fight, but when you meet his eyes they’re full of sore regret, apologetic. He wouldn’t ask you to leave his bed unless it was important.
You emerge from the covers and start to stretch.
“What time is it?”
“I’m sorry, love, but it’s nearly four in the morning. We have to be going, it’s urgent.”
You turn to look at him, he’s raking a hand through his hair, sitting up in bed.
“Did you sleep at all, Theseus?” You ask incredulously.
“No, too much to think about. And besides, I knew if I slept I wouldn’t be likely to wake. Better you sleep…”
Your heart wrenched. In a swell of affection, you went to him, crawling back over his body on the bed.
“No,” he groans, but his hands come around you, sliding down to your hips, anyway. You kiss his neck, raking your teeth over the skin there.
“Don’t do this to me,” he anguishes. His grip tightens on your hip, it’s meant to be chastising but it makes you want him more. “Please. We need to leave, Y/N.”
It wasn’t easy letting go of him. You know he would’ve given you what you wanted with enough persistence.
“Okay, okay!” You relent, kissing his mouth with a smile. “I’ll stop terrorizing you now.” You leap out of bed again without complaint.
When he stands he’s serious-Theseus again, your boss. And you love him still.
For his sake, you pretend not to notice his erection in his boxer shorts. It looks painfully hard.
“Get dressed,” he says to you before turning to the bathroom. “We need to get to Hogsmeade.”
It was wonderfully strange to see him like this—hair in wavy disarray, looking soft and subdued, barefoot and in his t-shirt. You want to appreciate the sight, you want to talk about what had happened between you and all that had been said. But his mind is elsewhere, preoccupied, and it seems you are both running late.
At your insistence, he lets you apparate to your apartment for a change of clothes, but then the two of you are off, running down the stairs of his building into the dark world below.
—————
Hogsmeade is more of a detour. There is an incognito meet-up organized with none other than Professor Albus Dumbledore. You’d, mercifully, taken a train--the Hogwarts Express. Theseus mentioned that Dumbledore was being watched by the Ministry, and that there were anti-apparition charms put up around the village and the castle.
You were just grateful to see him sleeping, at last, on the way there.
It was barely daylight when the two of you arrived, the sun bleak and pink over the Highlands, providing no warmth. You were grateful for the coffee you'd nursed on the train, as you were grateful to relieve yourself of the confidential documents from the Ministry. Their weight was an invisible one for you, evidence of your betrayal.
"Some aspiring Auror you are," you thought to yourself, bitterly.
“I tried to organize them for you. I started to, actually,” You supplied sheepishly when Dumbledore regarded the haphazard stacks of parchment, laid out on one of the tables in what you assumed was his brother's inn.
Dumbledore smiled warmly at you regardless and thanked you sincerely.
When you step out of the inn, you look to Theseus just as he looks over his shoulder at you. You're both more or less sleepless, and cold, and it seems the both of you have betrayed the Ministry and embarked on a hopeless mission, without many allies in the world.
But you were a united front.
It surprises you when he says, so earnestly that the tension in his shoulders seems to deflate, “God, I missed you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”
You blush, but don’t break his gaze. You’re not afraid to let him see you anymore.
“Where to, Mr. Scamander?”
He flexes his jaw like he’s not thinking about the plan at all, like he’s thinking about last night. But then, with a sigh, the moment is broken.
“Germany,” he says. “It’s time you meet my younger brother and the rest of the resistance.”
He says ‘resistance’ like it's some inside joke, some funny jab. You don't understand it until you arrive at the hotel room in Berlin.
-----------
Other than the hair, that uncommon shade of reddish, honey brown, and the apparent kindness and sense of humanity, Newt is nothing like Theseus. In fact, when he comes over to greet you he can hardly meet your eye, his head is half bowed in the other direction, his mouth a nervous, flat line.
"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I was sure that you'd do the right thing when Theseus sent you his letter. It was... very brave of you."
You look to Theseus in sharp amusement, eyes sparkling.
"Was there ever a question of whether or not I'd betray you? Did you really think there was a chance I'd turn you over to the authorities?"
Theseus places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
"Come now, Y/N," he says. "You know if I were to die I'd prefer it to be at your hand anyway."
You want to roll your eyes, but you're not sure to what extent he's joking.
You shake Newt's hand. You're soon after introduced to a muggle baker named Jacob and an astute, somewhat brash Auror from America named Tina. You're not much of a people-person, but you find that you like them both, immensely. They feel genuine, the sort of strong, singular characters that couldn't deceive anyone if they tried. That is why Newt's explanation of your task for the night sends a bolt of dread down your spine.
"We need to need to retrieve a magical object from a German Minister's office. I-I can't say much, it's better you don't know, but it's safe to assume that a large portion of the German Ministry of Magic has already fallen. Helmut, Vogel--and who knows how many others are under the influence of Grindelwald."
"Which German Minister's office?" Theseus says. His hands are in his pockets, he's leaning against the windowsill, the picture of nonchalance, his hair swept back. He's so handsome you could cry.
Newt ignores him. "Now, tonight may be our only chance. There's a diplomatic gala at the ministry itself. I can get us all in, Pickett and I can handle sneaking into the office itself, but there are five people who know about the object being at the ministry, who will be on the lookout and who need to be distracted until we're out."
He doled out assignments swiftly. Theseus was to distract the head of security. Jacob, the two waitstaff who served as the Minister's private informants. For Tina, the German Auror, Helmut. And for you? The Minister himself.
"Which Minister, Newt?" Theseus asks again, the edge in his voice unmistakable, though you don't understand it.
"Baron Dietrich, the Minister of Finance," Newt says at last.
Dietrich. Most of your work for Theseus was domestic, but you try to remember what you can. Dietrich was some Bavarian-born descendent of the aristocracy. Hedonistic, high society. He fought in the war, but gained his reputation in the drinking clubs of Berlin. Even you knew he was ruthless, notorious. A brute of a man without much respect for the law. That was the extent of what you knew.
Newt is rushing to explain before you or Theseus can speak.
“Please, Y/N, Theseus." He looks between the two of you, trying to appeal to both. "Dietrich, h-he likes…he likes beautiful women and he-"
Theseus crosses the room to his brother in a single stride. "Yes, and do you have any idea what he likes to do to those beautiful women, Newt?” He's seething. “Even everyone at the British Ministry knows he brutalizes them."
“I-I wouldn’t ask her if it weren’t absolutely necessary. So long as she’s able to distract him at the party, keep him interested there, at the party, nothing will happen to her—to you!” Newt turns to you now, addressing you directly. “I’m sure of it…”
Theseus sucks his teeth and turns away from his brother, still fuming. “Absolutely not. You will not send her away from my side, that’s final. Not to that man.”
“Theseus, please-"
“She’s muggleborn, Newt! Do you know what men like Baron Dietrich do to wizards like her? If he found out, if any one of Grindelwald's followers did, she'd be killed.” Theseus is speaking with such firm authority, but you know him well enough to detect the barely concealed panic in his eyes, the fracture just beneath the fortress. “Send Tina instead, she’s an Auror.”
“But Y/N is exactly the sort of girl that Dietrich would be-"
“I want to be an Auror too,” your voice sounds strange to your ears when you find it. It has a clear, confident quality, musical and lucid.
Theseus looks to you in shock. You wonder if he knew about the promotion you’d been offered at all, if he knew all you’d sacrificed to stay close to him—your very dreams dashed to pieces. From his expression, naked and open as day, he did not.
“I can do it,” you make an effort to sound settled. Unshaken.
Being a young, vulnerable girl in the streets of East London, at the orphanage after, and then being a woman at the British Ministry as an adult, you’d dealt with plenty of over-friendly and entitled men. Boorish men were everywhere and were not uniquely monstrous. You hoped Baron Dietrich wasn’t either.
"It's settled then," Jacob claps his hands together, seeming relieved that the tension between the two brothers has evaporated. Theseus is slumped over, leaning back on the nightstand in apparent defeat. "We're going to a party!"
Tina places her hand on your arm, leading you towards the closet. She doesn't seem to be terribly affectionate, so you're grateful to her for extending you this small kindness now.
"Here, Y/N," She says. "Let's get you dressed. We have plenty of time to go over the plan. It'll be okay."
------------------
Your outfit, "disguise" you suppose, is nothing like the subdued robes of your companions. You don't know why you're surprised when they ask you to enter the ministry ten minutes after them, alone.
The skirt of your dress is flowy and short, like a dancer's, ending just above your knee, something that might've been acceptable a decade prior, given the fashion trends. It's made of delicate petals of off-white fabric, adorn with tiny silver and pearlescent beads, glittering. Meant to draw attention. It's sleeveless and the top is breathtakingly form-fitting, pinching in your waist and hugging every curve of your body, but you are gratefully afforded an elegant high neckline. Silk, ivory-colored, wrist-length gloves that do nothing for the cold cover your hands and a fur half-coat is draped over your shoulders. Your lipstick is a deep red.
You understand what it means, these luxury items, your styling, the fact that you were instructed to enter alone. By no design of your own, the implication was that you were an escort, a madame of the night. No wonder Newt had Theseus leave the hotel first, before he could catch a glimpse of you. You didn't dare imagine his reaction.
As you enter the gala, handing the doorman your fabricated invitation without a glance, every head turns to you. Chatter stills as you pass, the women gawk and the men look stricken, hungry as the pack dogs in your dreams. Plates and trays sail overhead and the instruments play on, unattended. The German Ministry of Magic has spared no expense.
Patrons lean in close and speak hushed and anxiously. You assume the upcoming election for the highest office of the International Confederation of Wizards is on everyone's mind.
You head for the bar with your head held high, hoping it doesn't show on your face, your discomfort at being so seen. You were told Baron Dietrich would be at the bar with some of his men. With a trembling, gloved hand you motion the barman over and order a drink.
You don’t dare look for your friends. You assume things are going swimmingly for them, but for you? You are drowning in your finery.
You’re not even alone for a moment before the wolves descend. You should've known a man like Dietrich would come find you.
"Mädchen!" He approaches you partially, but expects you to come the rest of the way, waves you over with a meaty hand. When you raise an eyebrow, haughtily, he switches to English.
"Girl, come here." The timber of his voice is low, gravelly. He has a heavy brow, his hair is thick and peppered with gray. The gray does nothing to diminish the impression of his strength. In a fight without your wand, he could have your neck snapped, broken and rolling around its stem, in a heartbeat.
You walk over, leaving your drink at the bar, untouched.
The gala is housed in a mammoth, marble room, twenty foot ceilings held up by smooth columns, something that reminds you of Gringott's. But around the massive bar at the room's center are half-circle booths and tables, spiraling out like lily pads. You slide into Dietrich's booth and his arm goes around you immeditely.
He smells chokingly of cigars, a perfumey, sickly sweet smell. He is a bloated, thick-limbed man. No, you couldn't have fought him off. There are so many uniformed men at his table that some of the younger ones have to stand. With a sting of shock, you don't see how you could be of any influence on these men at all, they hardly see you as a person, aren't speaking to you. You hope Newt and Pickett work quickly.
Another young man, dressed in what looks like a soldier's uniform, slides into the booth after you, sandwiching you in next to Dietrich. You let out of noise of shock and begin to push him off you when Dietrich grabs both your wrists.
"Don't be fussy. This is my young friend, newly recruited. I plan to make him my protégé."
The other men slap the boy over the shoulder, jostling him in congratulations. He smiles meekly. You could hate him for that meekness. That pathetic deference to power.
"We'll share you tonight, of course." Dietrich is looking at the boy, not you. "In my office."
Dietrich's hand clamps over your exposed thigh and his fingernails jab into the fat of your thigh. You don't react to the bright bite of pain. The other boy begins to lean into you, breath hot over your neck.
Whatever small bird lives in your ribs begins to beat itself against that cage, flailing and thrashing.
"No!" You can't help the edge of panic in your voice. Dietrich is too strong, so you don't bother, but you shove the boy off of you and out of the booth without much effort. The boy stumbles out, dumbfounded.
Dietrich snatches your wrist with real fury, bruisingly.
"What?! You're for sale, aren't you?" He won't hurt you in front of his men, not at the gala, but his face is so colored with anger that it's nearly purple.
"Please," there's a real plea in your voice when you say it, you try to cover it up with a hurried smile, you try to look charming. "Dance with me, sir?"
That seems to sedate him. He looks irritated, but pleased by your attention. At least he won't be able to molest you in front of all his colleagues and superiors.
He leads you to the dance floor and the entire way your mind is racing, scrambling for purchase, trying to figure out how you're going to keep him out of his office. He made it clear he had plans to go there later tonight with his men. With you.
And he was an even cruder man than you'd thought, he'd made no attempt to even flirt with or seduce you. His interest in you was moreso entitlement, the same interest a predator has for a slab of meat.
Your wand, concealed on your person, gave you little comfort. Newt had asked that you did not reveal yourself, didn't make a scene. But if it came down to it, you would fight Dietrich rather than submit to him. He was more than repulsive. He wanted to hurt you.
"Please," you think to yourself. "Please, God, don't make me-"
You startle at the large hand that grips your waist and spins you away, just before you reach the dance floor.
Dietrich, abandoned, turns in flustered outrage and is swallowed by the crowd. You're being whisked away before he can fully react, Theseus guiding you deftly out of the overfull room of diplomats.
You sob with relief. "Theseus-" you start, but he's leading you deeper, still, away from the gala.
It's not until you're in some pitch-dark, gaping mausoleum of a hallway that Theseus finally stops, pressing you delicately against the wall, holding your face in his hands like water, like something precious. He examines your body.
"Are you okay?" He asks, pressingly.
You could cry out in joy, the sight of his face is balm-like, giving you a familiar relief.
"Yes, yes!" You reassure him. "Is it done? Did we do it?"
Theseus nods in confirmation, still looking over you for injuries, turning over your wrists in his hands.
"The others are already out. It was quick. No one noticed a thing, we probably took too many precautions this time around..." He finally meets your eyes. The look in his is dark and indecipherable. When he swallows, it's raggedly. "You're really okay, Y/N?"
"Yes," you answer, hesitant at the intensity of his look. "Why?"
Theseus presses his body against yours harshly, you don't even have time to moan before he's swallowing it with his mouth. Your hands are all over him, but he gives you no room to move, it's as if he doesn't notice, the way he's pushing you up against the wall, kissing you like he wants to consume you.
"You're so damn beautiful," he mutters. "When you walked in I almost blew my cover just to go to you."
"Theseus," you pant. You're needy, you want him to keep kissing you but he's leaning his neck back, pinning you against the wall but holding himself away so he can look at you when he runs his warm hands from the backs of your thighs up to your ass. He hooks his fingers around the waistline of your panties and pulls them down so they're only hanging onto you by one of your ankles.
He leans in for another kiss, just as deep and wretched as the last, just as maddening.
He pulls away again with a pant.
"Your dress is too damn short," he curses under his breath.
"Are you angry at me?" You ask quietly, still writhing against him, desperate for friction, but suddenly self-conscious.
"No, no sweetheart," he soothes. "Not at you. You did so good. Such a good job." His praise has you leaning into his palm, which is cupping the side of your face.
You whimper, "I want you." You realize it's true as you're saying it. You can't ever lie to him. "I want you," you repeat, more insistently.
“He was all over you,” he hisses against your ear. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.” He punctuates the last word with a squeeze to your backside.
"Theseus," you breathe out, helplessly. You can't believe this is happening. The wing of the German Ministry that you're in is completely dark, you can barely make out the tapestries and curtains hanging loose from the walls. But there's distant light at the end of the hall, and dim voices and music filter in and out from the gala a few rooms over.
But you want him to keep touching you more than you know better, know you should stop. More than anything.
He starts to hike your dress up, his movements urgent, when he stops abruptly. The spot where Dietrich's nails dug into your upper thigh is small, but he drew blood.
Theseus pauses, loosens his grip and lets you slide down the wall. With a slow-thudding heart you briefly fear he'll be so furious he'll run back to the gala, to find Dietrich, but he only bends down and kisses the wound, just barely, lips ghosting over skin, so gently you could cry. Kneeling before you, he looks like a prince, a knight. He's careful to avoid the wound when he lifts you back up against the wall.
You can't help but stare down at it, in awe, when he takes his dick out. Your body still thrills at the sight of it, there, huge, resting at your entrance. Theseus grinds a slow circle, sliding it against your wet folds, against your clit. You just stare.
He flashes you a lazy smile.
“What? You want me to help you put it in?”
You moan, audibly. You're not doing a very good job at being discreet, but how can you when he says things like that to you and expects you to answer?
"Yes, please," you close your eyes, too flustered to meet his burning gaze when you say the words.
He grips the base of his cock and guides it into your pussy. Clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you're making, you whimper dumbly against his palm. Only releases his hand from your mouth once he's fully seated inside of you. The stretch is so big you know it would hardly take any movement at all for him to break that tension and make you come, drive you mad, unravel you completely. Just a few rocks against the wall, a few rolls of his hips and you'd be brainless and spent, crying out his name. You're already dripping around him. But you want to last longer for him this time.
He's looking directly into your eyes.
“You’re taking it, Y/N. You can choose where—in your mouth, on your face, inside. But you’re taking it all.”
You nod. Then once again he's fucking you dumb, you don't even care that anyone could walk by, you're just thinking about how big he is, how good it feels. He's fucking your body slack now, you don't even have to do anything, he’s holding you up, lifting you onto and off of his cock roughly, debasingly.
His hands nearly circle your waist completely, they’re so large. Your mouth is stuck open, making stupid, feeble noises and he’s grunting small words of encouragement.
"Say my name," he says.
When you don't respond immediately, too blissed out to think, he slams your body down harder onto him and you nearly yelp.
"Hngh, Theseus. Theseus, please-"
You can feel him get almost unbearably hard inside of you, then he’s heaving you up and flipping you around, manhandling you, so your back is his against his torso, his right arm a bar across your chest, still inside. He brings a hand down roughly to your clit to touch you through it, and then you're both coming hard, your loud, jagged breaths echoing through the empty hall.
Your head spins, you're seeing stars.
"Baby," he says, when you don't come back to yourself immediately. "Was I too rough? Are you okay?"
You nod, breathlessly, but stumble when he finally stops supporting your weight. Your body is still juddering with pleasure, your fingertips quiver and feel numb as you smooth down your dress.
He's right, you think with a laugh. My dress is too damn short.
Theseus has the decency to look around the hall to make sure no one was watching, and to help you fix your hair and what's left of your lipstick. Your lips are pink and bitten now, swollen.
"They're probably wondering where we are. We should go." His voice is serious, unemotive, but there's something like devotion in the way he looks over you from head to toe, just one last time, to make sure you're beyond reproach. He hands you his jacket, which is huge on you, and slings your fur cape over his arm, bearing the cold himself like a gentleman.
A flurry of snow has begun to spiral down in the streets of Berlin, white particles curling and dancing in the wind. You've always found this type of snowfall to be so fanciful, the closest thing to magic in the muggle world. You walk back to the meeting point in comfortable silence, Theseus's hand clasped firmly around yours.
"He doesn't know what's mine," he'd said about Dietrich, about you. And last night, not that long ago, he'd said, "I love you."
Albeit, after you said it first. You look over to his oblivious face, checking both sides for cars before leading you across the busy street. His kind eyes, the line of his jaw..
You wonder how he could mean it... You'd so meticulously tried to conceal from him all the ugly parts of your life, your past, your fears, even your wants when they seemed to inconvenience him.
Could he love me? Could I let him?
"I want you," you'd said to him in the hall of the German Ministry. You realize now that you meant more than his body. For so long even just a look from him, just a word, was enough to sustain you.
But now you wanted more. Maybe it was selfish, undeserved, that the magical world was giving way to crisis, the dark forces were closing in around hope, and yet here you were, wanting to ask him for more...
part three here
author's note: hiiiiii! YES i switched to present tense from past tense in the last part, and no i'm not sorry...
please let me know if you'd like me to continue this fic! i have a third & final chapter in mind. or i can take other theseus requests. the theseus brainrot is real... some AUs would be fun too!
as always, feedback is welcome <3
taglist: @mystic-mara
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Serendipity
chapter three
summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.
no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.
pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader
warning(s): cannonical violence, mentions of dark magic and torture
series masterlist; previous part; next part
Over the next few weeks, you and Riddle met up in one of the abandoned Astronomy classrooms to practice your lessons, and the library where you really did attempt to tutor him in Ancient Runes, with little to no luck. He was hopeless at the subject.
You were not friends by any means. You were like oil and water, not willing to step over the line that separated friend from foe. He was infuriating as ever, and he seemed to find your incessant need for asking questions entirely incorrigible. But you'd both come to an understanding: this was a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of your mutual friends. It needed to be done.
Your own friends were starting to question the hours you spent with him and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to lie when Harry spent every spare waking hour, that wasn't spent in school or on the Quidditch pitch, scanning the Marauder's Map.
In this particular session, Riddle had bombarded your thoughts with so much information and strain that you thought you'd pass out from exhaustion at any second.
"You're unfocused." he stated, unamused as he watched your hazed expression.
"You've been hounding me, for hours. I'm tired Riddle. Give me a break." you mumbled, voice low and resentful.
No. It's only been fifteen minutes. Due to your lack of focus, the burning sensation had come back at full force, causing you to stumble into the desk behind you.
He tutted, as he wrapped a strong arm around your waist to support you from injury, knowing Theo would probably maim him if something happened to you. When his hands retreated, his touch left a tingling sensation in its wake.
"Fine. 20 minutes. But the hour's not up yet. We'll carry on afterwards." he sounded as irritated as he looked, which had become a common occurrence in these sessions, not helped by your sarcastic commentary whenever you had the strength to cause an argument with him.
You closed your eyes for what felt like seconds, but it must've been for the duration of your 'break' because he woke you up with a forceful nudge.
"Breaks over. Now block me out like I showed you. We both know you're capable, prove to me that this wasn't a massive waste of time."
The burning sensation was back once again but it was duller than before, more manageable.
Ron saving the most goals he'd ever saved in one singular match.
Trying to teach Riddle a simple Rune pattern.
Hermione running out of the Gryffindor common room, tears streaming down her face.
Lavender Brown snogging your best friend.
You successfully locked your thoughts away, securing the lid of the 'box' with a mental thud, watching as the distinct orb of energy you'd recognised as Riddle's magical core, floated to a standstill in your mind.
"Good." he says, his face impassive. "Again."
He enters your mind with more vigour, but you're prepared this time, focusing your energy on keeping the ball of his magic confined to one area of your mind, to stop him unlocking all your thoughts.
What he didn't know was that you'd been reading up on Occlimency in any spare time you had to yourself, which was slim. You focused all your attention on that bright silver orb in your mind and pushed back with as much strength as you could muster. Startled, Riddle's shields fell momentarily.
You found yourself watching him from an outsider's perspective. You were in his home, the Riddle mannor, which gave off an air of stale coldness. Like death itself had taken up residence there. Then you heard it. The low hissing of a snake, Nagini – the snake that had attacked Arthur Weasley just over a year ago.
You watched as she glided past you, towards the shadow of a figure you were too afraid to face.
"My son." Voldemort says, in a creepy sort of drawl. "Have you done as I requested?"
You watched as Riddle, cold and indifferent as always, sucked in a breath before he stared his father in the face. Wordlessly he let the double doors behind him open, letting Malfoy and Berkshire stumble into the room, eyes flickering nervously.
"Yes father." he sounded resentful. And you caught the glance he shared with his two friends. He looked remorseful and almost...sad.
"And what of Master Nott? Master Zabini?" you saw Riddle's facade fall for only a moment, then watched as his shields slipped as he cradled the back of his head with a barely contained wince. Voldemort was in his head.
"Very interesting, my son." Voldemort hissed, eyes narrowed on the boy, who looked entirely too small under his father's watchful glare. "This must be remedied. Perhaps a little punishment will remind you of your place."
Then you watched as a father cast an unforgivable on his only living heir.
You were forced out of his mind with a push similar to what you had done to him, and when you cast your eyes onto his, you found twin obsidian irises...glaring at you.
"Satisfied?" he snarled, stalking towards you, backing you against the wall of the classroom. "Do you feel accomplished, sweetheart?"
The way his fists clashed with the wall on either side of your head prevented you from interpreting this new nickname. You stared up at him, shock and apprehension painting your features.
His eyes, once a cool, calming brown were like deep, black holes, narrowed on your expression. It scared you, rendered you speechless.
You should be scared, sweetheart. I didn't give you permission to do that. Gods, even the voice in his head was frightening. He was menacing.
He seemed to break out of his staring trance and shook his head slightly, as if this was an outer body experience for him. He looked surprised at being so close to you; you swore his eyes trailed from your own to your lips, but it must've been a nasty trick of the light, to dissuade you from this crazed persona he suddenly harboured.
He sighed as he pushed off the wall and without a word, he left. Once again leaving you standing alone in a dark, empty room.
~∞~
The first Hogsmeade trip of the year is always a fun affair. You remember the very first time you stepped out of the carriage onto the cobblestone streets of the town with Ron and Hermione during your third year. And just like that first time, it was magical every year.
This year seemed extra special. Snow was falling heavily from the bright white sky and the third years were having fun throwing snowballs at each other. You were bundled up in warm clothes: hat, scarf, gloves and giant coat, in hopes of not having your limbs freeze.
"I am begging you," you mumble to the Golden trio, who walked beside you, "can we please go to the Three Broomsticks? I'm in need of a Butterbeer. Or better yet, a hot chocolate. I'm so fucking cold."
Ron only laughed at you while you shivered; they all agreed before he yelped and began hastily running away when he realised his detrimental mistake.
The idiot had dumped a load of snow on your head.
"RONALD!" you scream, but it's drowned out by your own laughter, along with Harry and Hermione's, the latter of which hadn't laughed much recently. "I'll get you for that you wanker!"
Your friends had seldom had time to have a proper laugh this year. Each busy with their own endeavours: Ron with his new girlfriend Lavender; Harry with Slughorn, under Dumbledore's ample instruction and Hermione, who was putting all her effort into avoiding the former and trying to persuade Harry to get rid of his potions book (which had given him a fast track to top of the class). It was a wonder that you'd convinced them to come along.
When you entered the pub, sodden and cold from the barrage of snow that Ron had unleashed on you, the warmth of Madame Rosmerta's heating charms caressed you like a tight hug. Unwrapping your scarf from your shoulders and removing your coat, gloves and hat, you slumped into the cushioned seat of a nearby empty table, not taking into account the surrounding occupants.
Riddle was sat among his friends, watching you. He'd been doing that more since he walked out on you a week ago. He didn't turn up to your next session a few days afterwards, and when he didn't show earlier that day, you walked out of the room, incredibly annoyed. But you weren't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was beginning to affect you.
As you sat side on at the table, with Ron facing his back to them, you saw how, despite his guard being held up extremely well, he huffed a laugh when Enzo said something entirely unfunny and rolled his eyes when Theo said something dramatic. You also saw how his jaw visibly clenched when Pansy was talking about the recent boyfriend who ended up being a complete dick. You wouldn't be surpised to find the boy beaten to a bloody pulp later.
You paid attention to your friends when Harry dropped a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of you.
"You truly are a life saver, oh Chosen One." you tease as he takes the seat opposite you.
"Piss off." he mumbles, but the smirk on his face tells you that he's not annoyed.
"I feel like we haven't spoke in ages." you say to your friends, who despite all being happy to see you, look like they'd rather be anywhere else. "How's being Captain treating you, Harold?"
As you let your friend mumble on about the stresses of looking after a group of rowdy quidditch players, you can't help the feeling that something terrible was going to happen.
~∞~
An hour or so later, the four of you were wandering down an icy path back up towards the carriages that would take you to the castle, the only other people around were Katie Bell and her friend Leanne, who seemed to be immersed in an argument that you paid little attention to.
Hermione was arguing with Harry about his potions book again when the air around you went eerily still. Then you felt it, this strange feeling. It was magic, you'd recognise the feeling from anywhere, but this was different, it felt entirely too dark.
When the four of you rounded the corner of the lane, that feeling grew inexplicably. Leanne had tried to grab a brown paper package from Katie's grasp but the latter had tugged it back, causing whatever contents inside to fall to the ground. That eery feeling seemed to increase tenfold and you staggered to a holt as Katie Bell was hoisted into the air by an invisible force.
The sight was harrowing. She was six feet in the air by the time you'd raced to where Leanne was panicking. The package appeared to be an antique opal necklace, and it was omitting a deadly magical signature. It was without a doubt, cursed.
Harry went to touch it, but you rapidly grabbed his arm. "Don't. It's been cursed."
He looked at you incredulously but at that moment, poor Katie, who's hair was whipping wildly in her expressionless face, let out a gut renching, terrifying scream.
It seemed that Riddle and his friends rounded the corner at that moment; Theo and Pansy running to stand beside you, faces matching your own. Katie was still screaming when Riddle went to examine the necklace.
"It's been cursed." he mumbled to himself.
"We've already established that, Riddle." you mutter, glaring at him. He ignored you. "We can't deal with this ourselves. We need a teacher."
He seemed to agree with you as he sent Enzo and Zabini running back to the pub in search of someone, anyone. In the meantime, Katie seemed to be losing height and was getting lower to the ground, although she was still writhing uncontrollably. Mattheo, Theo and Ron managed to gently lower her body to the ground and you immediately went to check her over, until she began thrashing and screaming again, knocking away your approaching hand, sending an excruciating sensation up your forearm.
You winced, but only Riddle seemed to notice.
Enzo and Zabini came sprinting up the lane at that moment, Hagrid following hastily behind them.
"Get back!" the gamekeeper yelled, prompting you to all back away from Katie.
Leanne was a mess, sobbing as she tried to explain to Hagrid but he seemed to hear none of it as he stared down at the writhing girl for a moment. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and began to run back up to the castle with her, carrying her piercing screams with him.
Hermione and Pansy immediately went to Leanne's aid, but you didn't move from your spot on the floor, staring at your arm, that was still burning.
Someone knelt in front of you, and expecting Theo, you looked up, startled to find Riddle, staring at you.
You looked away from him, but he cupped your chin with his fingers to bring your gaze to his.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, a curious look on his face, and underlines of worry were there too. But you only had one concern.
"Why could I feel the dark magic in that necklace? And why did she burn me and not any of you?" you asked timidly. You appeared to be shaking, from the adrenaline or the cold, you were none the wiser.
"I'm not sure, but we'll figure it out." he assured, he looked as confused as you felt.
"How?" you snapped. "You haven't shown up for the past week, Riddle."
He sighed as if annoyed before he did something you didn't know he was caple of.
"I'm sorry, okay. You caught me off guard, and I panicked. I'm sorry, sweetheart."
"Did you just apologise to me, Mattheo?" a slow smile began to graze your face.
"Tell anyone and I'll make you regret it." he muttered, but his brown eyes carried mirth as he stared at you.
You were about to reply when you saw Ron in the corner of your eye crounching bu the antique necklace.
"Don't touch it, Ron!" you said, jumping up, bursting the bubble that you and Riddle had created. Your friend startled and moved away from the necklace.
"I've seen it before." Harry mumbled and you watched as Riddle and all his friends tensed, it was a wonder that none of the boys you were with started throwing insults towards eachother. "On display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed, Katie must've touched it."
Theo scoffed, which seemed to remind the trio that the Slytherins were still there.
"Something to say, Nott?" Ron snapped.
"Anyone with a brain can see that it was cursed, Weasley. But you still went to touch it. Thank Salazar for Meadow." Theo rebutted and you had half the mind to stand between the two of them to stop the fight, but you felt lightheaded. You needed to sit down, or maybe sleep for a week.
You grabbed hold of the closest thing for stability: Riddle's stupidly strong arm. He startled but said nothing as he held you up, hands cradling your forearms.
What's wrong? His voice was a soft caress.
I feel like I might pass out. My arm is burning.
Did you touch the necklace?
I think I'd be halfway in the air if I did, Mattheo.
He looks concerned.
I'm taking you to Madame Promfrey. Take the necklace too.
He seems to say something to Theo, who interrupts a sobbing Leanne in favour of levitating the necklace away.
"We'll take this to Madame Pomfrey." he says and at Hermione's troubled look, he reassures her. "Meadow's with us. She'll make sure it gets there Granger."
With that, you're guided away by the Slytherin prince and all his friends, but it all feels like a fever dream.
~∞~
the change in nickname🫢
and Meadow called him Mattheo instead of Riddle🤭
gonna start a taglist too, as its been requested so comment if you want to be added xxx
taglist:
@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8
#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#theo nott#ron weasley x reader#harry potter#hogsmeade#serendipity series
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Ultraviolence
pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader
summary: thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. unfortunately, said stranger, joel miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them.
warnings: oh. boy. rough sex/smut (fem penetration, fingering, cum play if you squint) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; raider!joel; canon typical violence; mentions of hair pulling/reader having long hair; light dacryphilia; age gap; pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, girl); slapping, spanking, choking; !!!NONCON!!! (sexual violence/assault, coercion, allusions to more sexual abuse—Dead Dove, Do Not Eat y’all, protect yourselves).
word count: 4k+
no use of y/n in this fic
alright y’all!!! here is the non-con raider!joel fic!! stay tuned for the version coming out soon wherein Joel actually rescues the reader LOL join the taglist to be notified when I post it!!! y’all’s requests will quite legit be the death of me BUT this was fun to write so im not mad. this version is just purely depraved & Joel ‘Big Dick’ Miller is a mean mean man. wrote it pretty fast too so b nice 2 me.
love u all, sorry for searing your eyeballs:)
-em<3
—
The stucco prickles and tears at the flushed skin of your cheek, a reminder that it’ll be winter soon. The birds are sure of it, and most of them managed to get away before the frost stood a chance of nipping them.
You didn’t.
After a few years of non-stop struggle, losing everything but your own life, you figured there were worse ways to go. At least you would be… well—you, in the end.
In whatever shape this man and his leering group of accomplices left you in.
“Against the wall,” and his voice had been the crack of a whip, snapping by your ear as electricity shot up and down your spine, as the tingling realization that the chase was over—the jig, up—settled into your bones. “Spread your fuckin’ legs.”
There were more hounds around… waiting.
Always waiting.
They’d already gotten to your old, tattered clothes. The brisk air bites at your exposed skin, but at least the cold would account for the violent shivers wracking your limbs. Even as the beast pins you to the side of the decrepit house, forces himself between your knees, your primary preoccupation is to stifle your fear.
They’d get everything else on display—but they would never get to see that.
When the screaming starts, those confused grunts, huffs, and squelches of a blade carving into flesh, you mostly commend your own imagination:
“I did it. I’m in my happy place. This will be quick, then.”
But then a rough, unfamiliar hand grabs hold of your naked waist, flipping you around, slamming your spine against the frosty stucco.
This is real.
And you bear witness to his carnage.
He painted the side of the house into a mosaic of inter-mingling blood, splattered like a Pollock against the grass, the wrinkled clothes and the rugged face of your salvation.
His eyes rake over your still-trembling body before he wrenches a red-coated knife—never breaking eye-contact—from the throat of the man you’d been at the mercy of just a few seconds ago.
Blood gushes up from the fatal wound, and you both watch the cruel scene, mesmerized. The attacker’s eyes dull, all evil dissipating from that once-ferocious gaze. The rescuer’s big, wide hands flip him over, stripping him of his stained beige jacket. Then, he carelessly kicks the lifeless form face-down onto the yellowing grass.
“Put it on.”
You uncross your arms, snatching the coat from the stranger’s extended hands. It doesn’t bother you, its belonging to him.
He’s dead; you get his coat.
A fair exchange.
He keeps an eye on you as he sorts through the pickings: a few strips of dried meat here, a loaded gun there (two bullets in the clip—you watch as he checks), and a few good blades, stashed inside pockets, bags, and down shirt-fronts.
The man straightens up.
Tall.
“Get in front of me,” his low baritone strikes you, causing your knees to concede to a slight wobble. “You run, you die. Got it?”
Texan.
Slowly, you nod, and a firm grip circles your wrist, tearing you from the wall.
“Walk.”
Your heart hammers—near deafening in your ears—as the stranger stalks behind you, directing your trembling movements with brusque, snapped commands.
Finally, the scattered orangey-red leaves begin to multiply, the domestic remnants of a past civilization thinning. The neighborhood opens into a field; large oaks and slouching willows shiver under the weak glare of the afternoon sun.
There’s a house up there. It seems to be in alright shape (some things are built tougher than others) and it’s certainly a step up from a few of the more… unsavory places the outbreak had led you to.
Nearing it, you take not of how much it resembles a barn-house. Red, pentagonal roof, and a big, wide, brown front door.
Gingerly stepping a foot on the cracked wood of the porch, you turn to face your rescuer, uncertainty tying slippery knots in your tummy.
Because there’s clamour coming from inside. There’s people in there.
The momentary hesitation allows you to get a good look at your rescuer: he’s greying and dark—mixed, likely, or just disposed to a stubborn tan—and probably in his mid forties. Probably handsome, too, if it weren’t for the resident cruel scowl deepening his apathetic expression, or the violence dancing in his eyes.
A raise of his eyebrows.
“I tell you to stop?” He nods towards the looming house. “Move.”
But… you don’t.
“Are you gonna kill me?” and you’re downright shocked by the strength—the resignation—of your tone, the way the question comes out so matter-of-fact.
That sparse mustache crinkles in the corners, teasing into something wicked. “You want me to?”
“No.”
“So get movin’, then.”
That left little room for debate.
So, you turn, fingers and knees shaking with anxious anticipation. He cuts in front of you at the last minute, shoving the front door open with his knife at his side—for you or for something else, you’re not entirely certain.
He pulls you into the foyer by your forearm; to your great dismay, you’re faced with an entire group of middle-aged men. Killers—for sure—leering at you with that same starved, animalistic look your rescuer had fixed you with.
Then, he tosses the bag on the floor.
“Found ‘em by the school. Decent haul.”
Their eyes tilt to your shuddering frame, dwarfed by the jacket weighing down your shoulders. One of them looks strangely familiar, proud features reminding you of something else you were afraid of. “No shit, huh,” he commends, “Nice work, Joel.”
Joel.
As the shaggy-haired man speaks, his voice strikes familial resemblance, and it dawns on you. Your rescuer’s brother, or at the very least a cousin.
And what he says is a clearly marked taunt. That much is clear. Uttered with the kind of cruel camaraderie which collected on the tongues of men who committed acts of violence together.
Who hunted together.
And it’s obvious you’re not being rescued. Just… reclaimed. Redistributed.
Fuck.
Another voice joins the mix. “How much you think y’could get for her?”
Joel’s profile turns, harsh, brutal lines forming as he assesses you. “Depends,” and then—ohmothermary—he smirks.
“Gonna have to test her out first.”
A few snickers.
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
You’re trapped with nowhere to go, once again surrounded by a gaggle of soulless monsters. Fear grips you, but thankfully, it’s muted, now, having been mostly expended during the harrowing events of the morning.
Just an hour ago, pressed to the side of an abandoned house, you’d allowed yourself to give up.
So, it feels easy—natural—settling back into that rhythm.
To submit to your inevitable, violent fate.
Joel’s voice cuts through the clamour of your racing thoughts. “Upstairs, the room with the open door. Go.”
Eyes glued to the floor, you put one foot in front of the other, your insides twisting and turning inside your core. Fuck, you can feel the pairs of eyes following you with every step you take. The stairs creak as your weight presses into them, squealing like wounded prey.
“N’ take that fuckin’ jacket off,” Joel calls after you, the echoes of his booming voice and the group’s degrading laughter chasing you all the way up into the room—the one with the open door.
And it’s nice, surprisingly. Dusty, admittedly, and clearly having belonged to someone else—a long, long time ago—but the bed is made, the window lets the light in, and the walls remind you of cinnamon.
No, this wouldn’t be the worst prison. Or the worst place to die. It’s a sure-fire step up from the gutter between two dilapidated houses.
You keep the jacket on, shivering under its weight. Even as you hear footsteps climbing the stairs, even as the more rational, civilized side of your mind urges you to accede to your (non)rescuer’s every command.
The conversation downstairs dies off just as Joel rounds the corner, appearing in the doorway—a giant. Though your stomach lurches, and though your legs feel like putty, you hold your ground.
“I’ll fight, you know,” you hiss, watching him seal off the entrance to the room behind him. His flannel has droplets of blood on the collar—reminders of your previous captor—would your other attacker have been a better option? Who’d be more merciful to your quivering body?
You charge your voice with every last modicum of strength at your disposal. “I’ll fight.”
He turns, smirking softly at your clenched fists. “S’good, sweetheart. I like a little fight.” He stalks towards you, swiping his thumb along the plushness of his bottom lip, his intimidating presence forcing your back to meet the flat hardness of the wall behind you.
So much for fighting.
There’s nothing living in his eyes as he says it—nothing save the roiling flames of hunger: “You see those guys downstairs?”
You glare up at him, trying not to notice the alluring hook of his nose, or the way your body works against you, responding to the earthy smell of him.
Then, you nod, wordlessly.
“Did you count ‘em?” He splays a hand beside your head, using one hand to pry your arms uncrossed.
Again, you nod. “How many?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.
“Five.” Breathless.
“S’right, sweetheart. Ever had your lil’ holes stuffed by five guys at once?”
A swallow, and your voice cracks when you’re finally able to put it to use. “No.”
He pries your elbows to your sides, pulling the beige fabric open, revealing the torn remains of your underwear.
It’s almost a croon, feigned concern underpinning his low tone. “You wanna see what it’s like?” He drinks in the sight of your bare chest, almost groaning at the sight of your naked front.
It’s not cold anymore; no, suddenly you’re very hot.
“No, please, no.”
He slips the coat off of your shoulders, letting it fall in a heap to the ground. He assesses you once more: studying every square inch of your skin under his shadowed eyes.
“M’only gonna say this once, sweetheart.” All that fake-gentleness fades from his tone, replaced by the sadistic, authoritative timbre he’d first greeted you with. “I need you to be very careful.”
You’re frozen—all that fight, it drains out of you, captivated by the raider’s looming form, his mesmerizing speech.
“You’re alone, yeah?” A nod, which he acknowledges, trailing a hand up the length of your waist. “S’what I thought. N’ the way I found you today? That’s a best-case-scenario for a girl like you, out here on your own.”
He drags a finger up the centre of your breast, skilled fingertips just barely brushing the peaked nipple. You lean into his touch—the near imperceptible arch of your back doesn’t go unnoticed, and you kick yourself internally as the corners of his lips twitch up.
Still, the raider ignores your trembling.
“You’re mine, now,” he continues, egged on by your involuntary movement. “Means you’re gonna be a good girl n’ do as I say, n’ I’ll make sure I’m the only man who touches you.” His big hand drops to his heavy silver buckle, and the clearly defined, bulging lines underneath it have your heart clawing out of your chest. Joel senses your fear—and it only makes him harder. “I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine, y’know? But you try anything—you step outta line—I’ll throw you to my guys downstairs.”
His hand finds your throat, hunger and warning beating to the same rhythm in his gaze. “I have no problem watching.” He gives your larynx a squeeze, multitasking as he pulls the strap of his belt through the worn loops of his denim. “Understood?”
You have no words left, shaking from head to toe as the reality of the situation finally settles in.
As he works the intimidating weight of his cock out of his jeans.
A huff. Joel flips you over, impatient, pressing your scraped up cheek to the cinnamon-brown of the wall.
Déjà vù.
Your knees are separated by his own, and his weight flattens you. He wastes no time: lining himself up, his tip separates your folds. Resistance is futile—with one hand, he holds your thighs open—even as they try to press themselves closed, even as you whimper at the rough, male knuckles pressed to bruise on the insides of your legs.
Leaving his mark.
It’s not an option to simply take it. Joel forces you to participate in the sinful act: “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he growls, gripping your chin indelicately. “You understand me, girl?”
A swallow and a flinch as you feel the head of his cock poke at your entrance. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”
“Yes, Joel,” he corrects. “Use my name. You’re mine now. Use my fuckin’ name.”
Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the promised savagery in his tone. Holding back a sob, you respond: “Yes, Joel.”
You watch his hand, large and capable, splaying out a mere inch away from the tip of your nose. “Good,” he commends. “Z’are the only fuckin’ words you know, from now on.”
His free hand slaps against your hip, yanking you down onto his hard length. Your hips buck up against his abdomen, responding to the pull of his fingertips, even as you cry out at the sting, the stretch. The raider tries to force himself between your walls—muttering a grunted “shit”—and thrusting up against your ass.
But you’re too tight, too tense, and your stubborn body refuses to open up for him. Finally listening to you.
“Relax,” he orders, surprisingly softly. He moves his hand from your hip to the apex of your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit. Fuck, how’d he find it so fast? You gasp at the feel of his fingertips against your most sensitive, touch-starved spot, hating yourself for the way his pressure makes you feel.
Because…
Because—fuck.
It feels… good. The man knows exactly what he’s doing—methodical in his ministrations, prepping you only enough to ensure his own eventual pleasure. “S’too tight, baby,” he breathes against your neck, “Need to loosen up for me, yeah?”
He’s not gentle. No part of it is gentle. Nonetheless, pleasure ripples through your centre and down your thighs as he effectively turns you on.
“Thaaaaaa’s right,” and his voice is mocking and taunting and degrading as he drags his digits away, grabbing and pulling at your breasts, instead. Feeling the involuntary release of your cunt, Joel finally pushes himself in, sheathing the long, thick length of his cock inside you.
“Need to show this pussy what it’s fuckin’ made for.”
A current of pain flutters up your cunt just as he fills it up to the brim. You can’t help it—your stoicism crumbles to dust—and a soft, scared, pained whimper tumbles from your lips.
And he groans at it, thrusting roughly, over and over again. And again. “Hurts, does it?”
His breath is hot against your ear, and despite the fear, the ancient instincts gripping your bones, telling you to run, run, run, fight, fight, fight—it’s… enticing.
Hot.
“It hurts.”
He laughs, low and dark, bringing his hands to circle your hips, steadying you as you stumble on your tip-toes.
“Cry about it.”
And he keeps on going, tearing you open. The way his girth touches every starved part of your insides leaves you wanting, even despite the sting of his fingernails biting into your hips, the tears and cuts stinging at your opening.
You hate yourself for it.
But you clench around him, stifling a pathetic moan.
God, no—I am not enjoying this.
He breathes another laugh. “Feelin’ full, baby? Tell me how good it feels, c’mon,” and your inhalations come in heaves as he pounds into you, delivering a harsh slap to the side of your hip, hard enough for your skin to ripple from the contact. “Do as I say.”
When you refuse to sate him, swallowing all of your little noises, Joel grips your throat, bringing your head slamming against his shoulder. Your back arches into a perfect crescent, spine contorting at his will. A gasped cry fans out against his salt-and-pepper jaw.
A sob—of fear, of frustration, of reluctant pleasure. “You’re evil.”
The grip on your throat tightens, and he looses another laugh, squeezing your skin, muscles, and tendons oh-so-tight.
You’d be wrecked, bruised—branded—come sunrise.
“Yeah?” He groans, cock slamming up into your very guts.
“M-mhmm—” and the saltwater tears start pouring, trailing glistening slopes down your cheeks in long, long lines. Distantly, you hear his answer—“Yeah, well, you’re wet”—as those silver droplets keep on falling. Where they come from, you aren’t certain; of course, the terror, the physical torture, and the frustration at your entrapment contribute to the mess under your eyes.
But that warmth… the unbridled desire radiating between your thighs… that wasn’t helping, either.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans, muttering another “S’it—s’right,” and releasing your throat to tilt your head up to face him. He drinks in his creation, the ruined sight of your tear-stricken face, and his cock swells between your beaten walls. “God, you look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ it from me—cryin’ like your lil’ pussy ain’t desperate for this.”
Joel smiles when you sob.
It goes on for a while. He doesn’t tire quickly, bringing you right up to the edge of reluctant ecstasy before you remind yourself of the hatred you owed the man fucking into you. You get used to the sound of his hips snapping against your skin, your cries mingling with his gravelly, low grunts. It’s a dirty, depraved symphony—orchestrated by the monster between your thighs.
You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he finally, finally brings his fingers back down between your legs. He grunts in approval, barely grazing the length of your folds, pressing his thumb into the delicate flesh of your thigh, instead. “Dirty lil’ girl—fuckin’ dyin’ to be an old man’s whore, z’that it?” and he doesn’t even touch you, focussed on his own pleasure, but the proximity alone is enough to have you wrecked.
And you just can’t help it: “J-joel—”
“Y’know,” he chuckles, slightly out of breath, slowing his strokes to address your wanton whine, “You’re gonna make such a good lil’ fuck-toy, baby, f’you keep makin’ those pretty lil’ noises for me.”
The reality of the situation comes barrelling down on you as he acknowledges—praises—your enjoyment of his torture.
This man… this man was cruel. He was hurting you, and enjoying it.
You struggle against him, a pathetic show of weakness. Joel holds you in place effortlessly, arching your back further, keeping your hips preened back to receive the harsh thrusts he delivers to your torn, ruined cunt. “Where you goin’?” He laughs at your pathetic attempt at resistance, grips tightening. “Thought we were havin’ fun, baby—don’t it feel good?”
And he quickens again, slamming into every needy spot inside you. His breaths grow shallow, as rough as his hands and the ferocity of this punishment.
“No,” you manage, fingernails digging into his forearm.
He tuts, the vocal click constricted with lust, and his hand travels the length of you, settling against that aching bud between your thighs. “Fuckin’ liar.”
He presses down, proving his point. Your entire body tenses as pleasure ripples through you—despite your best efforts, climax crests through your core, threatening to implode within you. Joel hums, smirking when he feels your legs parting even wider.
“S’mine now, alright? You’re mine now.” He crams every inch of his cock up inside you, pulling you flush against his chest. “S’okay to come for me—s’okay, baby, I want you to—s’fuckin’ right, let go for me, baby—” and his crooning takes you over the edge.
Christ, it feels so good.
You clench around him, high-pitched pleas and moans tumbling from your lips, his own pair dragging down the swoop of your ear. In that split second, Joel—the devil at your back—is your favourite thing in the world: your hero, your haven, your God. Fuck, you could just kiss him, marry him, fuck him over and over and over and over—
A hand clamps over your mouth during those brief, blissful moments; the man practically bounces you up and down the length of him, muffling the cries of pain and pleasure tearing from your sore throat against the rough skin of his palm. He groans inside your ear—a stammered, sinful “fuuuck”—and then he’s spilling his seed inside you, shoving it impossibly deep as those quick, harsh strokes stutter and slow.
You come to, waking up from your pleasure-drunk daze. Before you get the opportunity to wriggle away from him, the monster flips you over again, slamming your shoulders to the wall. With his forearm barring your chest, and despite your fear and ire—somehow, all you can think about is the fact that he’s not as out of breath as he really should be (given his age and, of course, what he’d just done to you).
Joel leaks out of you. His cum paints masterpieces down your legs.
He slides his free hand down the length of his cock, collecting the last bits of slick clinging to him and not dripping out of you. The intermingling juices are brought to the roundness of your breasts—the raider slathers your sore peaks with his own spend.
“Nobody’s gonna fuck with you—but that means you’re Joel’s girl. Hear me?” With your head bowed, you glare up at him through silver-lined spider lashes, shame beating at your cheeks. When you hum your acknowledging “uh-huh,” the stranger continues on, gripping your jaw to angle your gaze up: “Means you listen—you-you don’t fuckin’ try me—n’ you take everything I give you, every fuckin’ time. Understand?” He tucks his softening length back in his pants, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction as he leers at your destroyed form.
When you don’t respond, he brings the back of his punishing hand colliding with the side of your face.
Something between a squeal and a gasp tumbles from your lips; Joel catches it, placing the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pressing down. Your cheek stings from his harsh slap, delivered on top of the scrapes and wounds a different cruel man had left upon your skin.
“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I will f’I have to,” and he’s earnest, commanding and pleading at once. “You gotta answer me.”
Slowly, you croak out a timid, “Yes,” and an “I understand,” followed by a final “Joel.”
Nodding, he straightens, the violence in his gaze fading just minutely. When he lets go, you stagger—the raider senses the instability of your knees, reflexively snaking a steadying arm around your waist.
You’re not sure where the impulse comes from. Perhaps it’s exhaustion, the aftermath of your orgasm, or maybe it’s just a sick, twisted desire to sink into something beyond your body—either way, you respond to Joel’s support by throwing your arms around his neck.
And he responds by lifting you, walking you over to the bed, and tossing you down on the sheets. Awakening into reality, you scamper back, grabbing and yanking at the surrounding bedding in a desperate attempt to cover yourself.
But Joel pays you no mind.
Having had his way, he’s through with you—for now. Nonchalantly, apathetically, he runs a hand through his hair, tracing heavy steps towards the door.
“Lock the door when I leave,” he instructs, but his tone is soft… possessive and commanding, yes, but… caring. “Don’t open it for anyone but me.”
He waits for your show of understanding, your near imperceptible nod.
Then, he sighs, yanking on the handle and giving you his final address over a pair of creaky, squeaky, rusted hinges. “Try to sleep, sweetheart—got a long night ahead of you.” Chuckling to himself, he leaves the sanctuary of the room.
All you can hear as your body grows heavy and warm, travelling somewhere far, far beyond this violent world are the echoes of male laughter down the hall, and a familiar, satisfied, gravelly voice:
“Not worth much, now. Might just fuckin’ keep her.”
And you slip away, dreaming of belt buckles, blood-stained collars, and the lung-squeezing heat of the setting Texan sun.
—
He used to call me DN
That stood for deadly nightshade
'Cause I was filled with poison
But blessed with beauty and rage
Jim told me that
He hit me and it felt like a kiss
Jim brought me back
Reminding me of when we were kids
With his ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
I can hear sirens, sirens
He hit me and it felt like a kiss
I can hear violins, violins
Give me all of that ultraviolence
He used to call me poison
Like I was poison ivy
I could've died right then
'Cause he was right beside me
Jim raised me up
He hurt me but it felt like true love
Jim taught me that
Loving him was never enough
With his ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
I can hear sirens, sirens
He hit me and it felt like a kiss
I can hear violins, violins
Give me all of that ultraviolence
We can go back to New York
Loving you was really hard
We could go back to Woodstock
Where they don't know who we are
Heaven is on earth
I would do anything for you, babe
Blessed is this union
Crying tears of gold, like lemonade
I love you the first time
I love you the last time
Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines
'Cause I'm your jazz singer
And you're my cult leader
I love you forever
I love you forever
With his ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
I can hear sirens, sirens
He hit me and it felt like a kiss
I can hear violins, violins
Give me all of that ultraviolence
—
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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 3
Chapter 3 - Learning To Get Along
A/N – So, a user on A03 suggested the snake servants’ new names. It was a stroke of genius on their behalf, and I can only thank them for it.
Warnings – None.
Rating – T
MALE VERSION HERE
GN VERSION HERE
Tag-List: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch
Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.
So, Lucifer thought himself too good for low-life Sinners such as yourself. That wasn’t fair. Sinners might be in Hell for a reason, but sometimes such reasons were just fucking stupid. Heaven ought to base their entry requirements on a person’s character or strength of heart, not just their actions. You had met plenty of Sinners who were in Hell because of the most trivial shit.
There were those who liked to sleep around, but if sex positivity was a problem, then how did Heaven explain Angels like Adam, whom Charlie had told you about in excruciating detail. Lust shouldn’t have ever been considered a Sin, as long as all participants in any such carnal act were above age and consenting.
Then, there were a few murderers you knew. Granted, murder made the lines blurry, but some Sinners killed in self-defence, or only targeted others such as themselves, protecting the innocent in a very gruesome Dexter-like fashion. Were they really to be condemned? And who the fuck gave a damn about Sloth. So, some people were just bone idle, who gave a shit? Heaven apparently.
And now, the ruler of Hell was condemning those around him as well. He was supposed to care for his people, good or bad. Not to mention those who were solely created for or born in Hell, such as Imps, Hell-Hounds, or the Deadly Sins themselves; they hadn’t committed any crimes to get sent here originally – it was their home.
Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.
“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.
No? Didn’t you understand the situation? He was Lucifer. King of Hell. He could destroy you with no effort spared, leaving no trace that you ever existed, and you were telling him no? He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, but how could you possibly think that being around him was a good idea? Did you respect Charlie more than you feared him? Granted, he didn’t go out much so few knew how powerful he was, but no other Sinner would dare deny him his wishes.
You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.
“Look, I’m only here ‘cos Charlie thought it was a good idea, and if you genuinely hate me, I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, but you’re not even trying right now. You haven’t spoken to me. You don’t know anything about me, and frankly, I think Charlie’s right, you do need someone to talk to.”
“I don’t-” Lucifer started.
“You don’t even know why I’m down here,” You interrupted angrily, though you refrained from raising your voice. “And you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same. Ooh, we squandered your gift of Free Will and now we deserve to suffer for eternity, do we? Grow up!”
Lucifer stared at you in astonishment, and you sighed, apparently not finished in your tirade, “I’m going to my room tonight, but tomorrow, I expect that you’ll at least try to tolerate me. Who knows? We might even find some common ground. We both love Charlie, don’t we?”
Lucifer didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly loved his daughter, more than anything else in the universe, but you? He still suspected that you had some kind of ulterior motive… everyone in Hell did. Yet, you had a point. He would do this for her, even if it meant he had to tolerate you.
Who were you, really?
He looked at you closely for the first time, trying to pick out some detail of who you might have been. It was even more disturbing than he previously thought. Before, he only saw a human. Now, he examined your clothes. There was little to say about the style, but your apparel was reminiscent of a Holy Animal. With the ruffled cuffs of your jacket, the way the back peaked to create the image of feathers, and the yellow ribbon that lined the white material, you looked like a dove.
Yet… Despite living in the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie had insisted that you didn’t seek redemption. Why go through the farce of dressing like an Angel then… unless? No, you couldn’t be. No Angel would dare stray from Heaven unless they were ordered to.
Lucifer held back a glower, trying to keep his emotions in check so you wouldn’t sense his thoughts. There was a possibility, though small that you had been sent by the likes of Adam to spy on Lucifer and his kin, ensuring that none of Charlie’s patrons ever found a way to the Pearly Gates.
Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.
“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”
“So, you’ll try then.”
Lucifer nodded his head in consent.
“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”
The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.
When you returned to your room, you got ready for bed. The day had been long and unusual. Honestly, you didn’t feel that you had a place in the manor, and you longed for your room in the Hotel, even if it was smaller, had a large stain on the carpet (which Nifty had named Vivienne) and an unruly infestation of roaches.
In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.
You would miss the arguing inhabitants, the energetic wake-up call from Charlie, the feeling of safety that Vaggie instilled, and the sound of Alastor’s morning and evening radio broadcasts. Yet, you hoped you might find something equally valuable in return if only Lucifer would open himself up to the possibility that you didn’t want anything from him.
After glancing out of your window, which had a balcony you could step out to if you so wished, you took in the whole of the Magne District which was the heart of Pentagram City. If you strained your eyes, you could just see the flashing neon of the Hazbin Hotel, and if you turned your gaze up… There was Heaven, out of reach yet always in sight, taunting most Sinners, yet emboldening a brave few who dared to wonder What If? What if they could change and gain admittance to a better life?
You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.
Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.
You rested your head atop the satin pillows, then frowned, feeling a lump beneath it. You reached under and pulled out a rubber duck, painted to look like a Hellhound-Duck hybrid. Assuming it was one of Charlie’s childhood toys, you placed it carefully atop the table; it would keep you company on your first night in a strange new place.
Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.
Before being cast out of Heaven, detecting an Angel would have been a simple task. He would just know, the way he now knew how to read a Demon. Yet, with you giving off little sign of Demonic energy, he now had to test if you were of Angelic origin. There were two ways he could do so. The first was by spilling your blood. Those who were born in or sent to Heaven had golden ichor instead of the oozing red or black goop of Hell-spawn and Sinners.
However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.
Once he was inside your room and certain that you were in a deep slumber, he reverted to his original form, standing over you, his pupils turning to slits at the thought of a traitor in his house. If you were what he thought you to be, he would kill you immediately.
He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.
Nothing happened.
Lucifer’s expression changed from one of deep-seated loathing to confusion. You weren’t from Heaven. If you were, the stone would have glowed a brilliant shade of Gold. Instead, it remained its original dull yellow.
Very well.
He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.
He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.
Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.
The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.
“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”
“Uh…” Was all he could think to say as he entered the kitchen and found you clinging to one of the snake cleaners he had created the previous night, in a rodeo-like fashion. The creature was trying to buck you off, with a somewhat derpy expression, probably stupidly assuming it was a game; Lucifer hadn’t bothered to instil them with much intelligence since he didn’t need them for anything more than cleaning.
“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.
“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.
“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.
“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”
Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.
“They don’t need to.”
“Okay, but can they?”
“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”
You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”
“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.
“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”
Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.
“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”
He waved his hands energetically, his outfit transforming from his usual suit to one befitting a flashy Michelin Chef. He was comfortable in the role of an entertainer as he made a dazzling display of cooking up eggs. With the flash-bang of indoor fireworks, the island counter gained a conveyor belt to transport several dishes, all perfectly presentable and giving off a delectable aroma of herbs and spices.
Eggs-benedict, frittatas, and shakshuka shot by you, closely followed by a hungry Span, though his twin was busy writhing on the conveyer belt, trying to get to his feather duster, yet doomed to chase it since he didn’t think to travel in the opposite direction so it would meet him in the middle.
The sight was memorable to say the least, even when Spick knocked the food onto the floor and his brother was left stupidly sucking on the corner of the countertop where his seemingly new favourite dish had splattered.
You couldn’t help laughing.
“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”
Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.
“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”
“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.
“You know that’s not their names.”
“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”
The smile fell from your face as you realised that all of this was just another of Lucifer’s acts. Granted, he might have actually had fun with it, but it was all just in the name of claiming he had tried to be around you, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.
“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”
“I can’t. I have… plans.”
Lucifer’s mood soured as he thought about visiting Heaven’s embassy to set up the meeting for Charlie. He hated everything about that building. The décor was just a cruel reminder of everything Heaven had banished him from. Moreover, while the Angels had to respect his power, they didn’t respect him; their cruel words and thinly veiled insults always cut him the deepest. Not to mention how bitter he was that the balance of power was uneven. Sure, Heaven had an embassy in Hell, but there was no such building in Heaven where Demons could work to arrange meetings between Angels and him.
It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.
“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”
Lucifer guessed at your game. You probably hadn’t been going in that direction at all, but this was all in the name of ‘trying’. One way or another, he would have to learn to get along with you.
“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.
It would be better if he could teleport there, but at least, by the end of the day, you would have something positive to report back to Charlie.
#fanfiction#fanfic#reader insert#reader#female reader#lucifer morningstar#lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer hazbin hotel x reader#charlie morningstar#lucifer magne#lucifer magne x reader#hazbin hotel#hellaverse#sinless sinners#part 3#chapter 3#learning to get along
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(I know you don't write for Steve but this just came to me) What about Steve teaching virgin!reader how to blow virgin!Eddie?!
Pairing | Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x fem!Reader
Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), handjobs, blowjobs, inexperienced virgin reader, inexperienced virgin eddie, experienced pushy steve, awkward boners, bullying, mutual pining.
Word Count | 2.8k
A/N | i've never written for steve before and i took this and ran with it lmao, i hope i did your prompt justice!! if any of you see any mistakes, no you didn't, this wasnt proof read.
Eddie and Steve's relationship had always been odd. You'd noticed it from the first time you'd ever hung out with them, when Robin had dragged you along to meet her friends. You hadn't known her for long, but Robin was loud and unabashed and adamant you had to come hang out with her outside of work.
When you'd first clapped eyes on them both, you noticed the air seemed thick between them. The way they'd bite at each other constantly, bicker and call each other names, the way Steve's eyes would linger on Eddie's lips a second longer than what would be deemed appropriate.
It seemed like a constant fight for dominance, especially when the kids were around. A battle of who Dustin loved more, who Mike looked up to more, who Max harbored a secret 'big brother' liking to more. It was a constant game, and you wondered if they even liked each other.
Then, sometimes, they'd be sweet with each other. Steve would knock Eddie back with a gentle hand when he was about to stumble over a curb, Eddie would grab Steve a burger even when he said he wasn't hungry. Steve would even help him set up the D&D table, he didn't understand what it was about and never played, but he'd help anyway. Even when Eddie bitched that the way he did it was wrong.
So, it was weird. The more time you spent together, the more you found yourself being sucked into the dynamic unwillingly. Robin said she could tell Eddie had a crush on you, which made you blush -- he was cute, and surprisingly really nice despite the hard exterior, but Steve caught onto it pretty quickly and used it to his advantage during their bickering.
You'd walked in on them arguing about you one day, when they clearly thought they were alone. You stood behind the doorway, eavesdropping;
"What would she want with you, Munson? You're a twenty year old virgin, trust me she's not interested."
"Oh yeah? As opposed to what, exactly? The town slut? As if you're any better than me because you've fucked every girl our age."
"At least I didn't jizz in my pants when she gave me a hug."
"That didn't fucking happen, and if you tell her that I'll kill you."
"Ooh, scary."
The admission of Eddie being a virgin was unsurprising, chicks weren't exactly queuing up outside his trailer to fuck him. But, he was pretty, like devastatingly so. Once you got to know him he was a great guy, smarter than he made himself out to be and nothing like the people of Hawkins claimed he was.
The next time you all hung out together, three joints deep and a bottle of scotch being passed around, you made a point of also admitting to being a virgin, to make Eddie feel better. Steve had stared at you open mouthed and flustered, Eddie had choked on his gum, Robin had watched it all unfold and let out a loud barking laugh.
You'd hoped that it would settle Eddie's mind and maybe get Steve to back off and stop hounding him about it, particularly in front of you.
And now, how you ended up in this situation is fully Robin's fault and she'll get told that when you next see her. Her and Nancy had bowed out of your designated movie night ungracefully, claiming to be slammed with babysitting Holly at last minute, but you knew better.
The three of you were crammed up on Steve's bed, and you're wondering why he and Eddie willingly chose to sit next to each other, so close their arms were squashed together and their legs knocked. You were watching The Lost Boys, at Steve's adamance, because apparently it was the horror movie of the year, but you begged to differ, nothing exciting had happened yet.
It gets to a sex scene, and you awkwardly shuffle from where you're sat next to Eddie, cheeks burning hot as you avert your eyes from the screen. Neither of them notice, enamored with seeing a pair of tits on the screen like a pair of twelve year olds.
Your fingers accidentally brush Eddie's own, and you shoot back like you've been scalded, "Sorry, Eddie." You whisper quietly, settling back into your pillow with an inch of space between your bodies for safe measure.
Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, which catches Steve's attention, making him turn away from the screen to look at you both, eyes flitting back and forth. Then, a scoff escapes him, "Trust you to pop a boner at a pair of fucking tits, Munson."
You furrow your brows, glancing down to where Steve's eyes wandered and oh. Eddie was hard, straining against the loose plaid pyjama pants that he always wore when you guys hung out at night, refusing to buy a pair of sweatpants.
Eddie's face is flushed a dark red, you can see it as clear as day from the glare of Steve's TV, "Fuck off, Harrington. They're a nice pair of tits."
"You're such a virgin, you want some help with that?" Steve wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and you think it's meant to come out as a joke but the way Steve says it seems anything but. He looks at you over Eddie's shoulder, motioning towards him, clamping a hand down on his leg, "Don't you think it's about time he got touched by something that wasn't his right hand?"
You flounder a little, unable to form proper thoughts at what Steve is insinuating, "What do you mean? That I should help him with that? I'm the unwilling third party here, keep me out of your homoerotic bullshit."
"We could both do it, silly. Was it not totally obvious that he's got a massive crush on you?" Steve shrugs like it's nothing, and you feel Eddie tensing up next to you, can see his cock straining further in his pants out of the corner of your eye. In that moment it clicks for you that they're both into this, have probably been waiting a while to find themselves in this situation, with you specifically.
"At this point I think you have a crush on him, you're so obsessed with him it's hilarious." You snark, leaning forward a little until you're crowded back in Eddie's space, hands bumping each others, "What do I get out of this, exactly?"
Steve looks you up and down, a cute grin gracing his face, "Trust me, you can have anything you want."
You chew on the inside of your lip, genuinely thinking about it. Did you really want your first time doing anything sexual with another person to be in a threesome? You clench your thighs at the thought, a wave of heat flushing through your body at the thought of being touched by four hands at once, two mouths.
You wonder how Eddie feels, he's uncharacteristically quiet. You hazard a glance back down, and Eddie has his hand clamped over Steve's own on his thigh. So, yeah, clearly he's into it too.
"Aw, c'mon, don't you want to show the freak a good time?" Steve asks, a smirk overcoming his features — it's disgustingly attractive, a far cry from the usually sweet Steve you knew when Eddie wasn't around, but it did things to you, made your tummy clench.
"Steve, I've never done this either... you know that," You pull your bottom lip with your teeth, chewing anxiously. It's not as if Eddie had anything to compare you to, you were both a pair of bumbling touch starved virgins, but you didn't want it to be bad for him, either.
"Harrington, if you don't stop rubbing my thigh I'm gonna cum in my pants," Eddie's voice cuts through the air, loud enough to knock you out of your trance and making you look up at him, taking in just how disheveled he was already from the merest touch.
"I'll show you how to do it," Steve says, completely ignoring Eddie's protests, never taking his eyes off of you as he brushes his hand up Eddie's thigh even higher, knocking his clothed hard dick with the back of his hand. Eddie hisses, Steve grins and lets out a cackle, "Won't take much, anyway, not if this is anything to go by."
"I am right here," Eddie balks, throwing his hands up in the air. Steve shushes him, shoving into Eddie's space like an eager puppy to grip at his pants and pull them down his thighs.
Of course Eddie doesn't wear underwear under them, why would he? His cock springs out, flushed and hard, the tip a pretty pink colour that makes your mouth water, a small amount of precum blurting out of his slit.
"You guys good with this?" Steve double checks, Eddie whines a little, which is enough of a reply for Steve. You don't even reply, batting Steve out of the way with one hand and wrapping your other one eagerly around the base of Eddie's dick - which to your delight elicits the prettiest little moan from his mouth.
"Eager little thing, isn't she?" Steve smirks at Eddie, which in return has you rolling your eyes and Eddie nodding his head fast. You slide your hand up the length of Eddie's cock slowly, shocked by how your fingers don't even wrap around it fully, all girthy and nice to touch.
"Right, you've not got enough lube for your hand to glide properly, here," Steve leans forward, mouth just mere centimetres away from Eddie's dick, and he lets out a glob of spit onto the head.
"Fuck, what the fuck," Eddie's words comes out erratic, eyes wide as he watches Steve spit all over him without a care in the world, like this was normal and something 'bros' did. Your hand squeezes the base of his cock a little to focus his attention back on you, hand sliding up to rub in the mess of Steve's spit and get him all nice and wet.
"There you go, see? Much easier." Steve's cocky demeanor is starting to diminish, you can tell by the way his voice comes out softer as he watches your skin connect with Eddie's, the slick slide of your fist up and down his cock. You feel Steve's large hand ghost over your lower back, under your shirt. You gasp quietly at the touch, the burning heat of his skin on yours making you shiver.
"Does this feel okay?" You ask Eddie quietly, ignoring what Steve just said because what the fuck would he know, it's not his dick being touched.
"Feels good, sweetheart, cross my heart." Eddie's cheeks are tinged rouge red, neck veins popping a little as he clearly struggles not to blow his load. You can see Steve looking back and forth between you both with curious eyes, smile still on his face, clearly enjoying watching a pair of virgins going at it like a creep.
"Do you want me to use my mouth?" You ask tentatively, cocking your head to the side as you keep eye contact with Eddie to try and gauge how he feels. It's meant to be innocent, comes out dirty. Dirty enough that Steve's hand moves to grip at your waist slightly, a soft sigh escaping him.
"You'd like that, right Eddie?" Steve's smile is sickly sweet, but you can tell he's starting to fold because he's using Eddie's real name, not his last name or a stupid nickname. Eddie nods silently, eyes shutting and head thumping back against Steve's plush headboard.
You slide down the bed quietly, shuffling until you're nestled in between Eddie's spread legs at an angle that meant you could just lean forward and slide your mouth over his length, "Tell me what to do then, genius."
"Take your hand off him, I'll do that, you just put your pretty mouth to use," Steve's slender fingers move yours out of the way until you're releasing Eddie's cock, his own large hand wrapping around the base and squeezing, making Eddie whimper.
Steve guides Eddie's dick over to rub the tip over your closed lips, smearing precum all over them. Your tummy clenches, ridiculously turned on by what you're doing, unable to stop your mind racing. You feel dizzy, like this is a dream you'll wake up from any moment.
"What're you waiting for? Wrap your lips around the head, give it a try." Steve's demanding, his voice firm with you, so you lean down and close the distance, opening your lips and sinking down onto the head, hot mouth engulfing Eddie's cock.
"Jesus Christ, fuck," Eddie cries out, can't help but open his eyes to look at you, has to see what you're both doing. The sight of Steve's massive fist around his cock, jerking it lightly into your mouth, you sucking and licking at him - he's teetering on the edge dangerously fast.
"Feels good, right?" Steve chuckles a little, looking between where his fist and your mouth meet and Eddie's blown out, wide eyes, "She didn't even need any help, knew just what do on her own like a good girl."
You and Eddie both moan in unison, the vibration on Eddie's cock enough to have his hips bucking up wildly, which in turn causes Steve to reach his free hand out and push him down onto the bed harshly, "Don't cum yet, Munson. Don't be a little bitch."
Eddie chokes out a little sob, whining at Steve being mean to him. It makes his body run hot, the coil in his tummy tighten. You glance up at him, mouth still full of his cock, just to make sure he's okay, and the bit of eye contact has Eddie losing it.
"Sorry, fuck, sorry, I'm cumming," Eddie grips at a chunk of Steve's meaty thigh and he comes with an embarrassingly loud yelp, Steve's hand tightening as he jerks Eddie's cock into your open, willing mouth, swallowing his release down like you'd done it a million times before.
You kitten lick at the head until Eddie shakes with sensitivity, popping off with a little grin, "You good? Back down to earth yet?"
Eddie smiles dumbly, saluting at you with two fingers, body completely sagged into Steve's plush sheets, flaccid cock still out, "Alive but barely."
You clamber up the bed, the sudden urge to kiss him overtaking your body. You fist a hand in his messy curls, pulling him up to kiss you. Eddie wraps an arm around your back, kissing you all sloppy, teeth and tongue, to an outsider it probably looked gross, but it was so hot to you that you wanted to cry.
You break apart to catch a breath, forehead to forehead with wild eyes and stupid little smiles on your faces. You ache with how much you like Eddie, a love for him overtaking your whole body. Steve clears his throat at your side, pulling you out of your trance, making you turn to look at him.
He's got a firm hand gripped into the arm of Eddie's shirt, you can see his own cock tenting in his loose sweatpants and God, it's big and intimidating, even through his clothes.
"Don't be greedy, share it with me," Steve closes the space between you both and smashes his lips onto yours, licking into your mouth expertly to swipe over your tongue. You moan into the kiss, cunt clenching at being used in this way. He kisses more firmly than Eddie, more sure of himself, it's nice in a different way.
Just as you're getting lost in it Steve pulls away, a whine dying in your throat when you open your eyes to see his face gliding closer to Eddie's, and then they're kissing too. Steve grapples for your waist with closed eyes, tugging you even closer to them both.
They're animalistic with each other, like they're both angry and filled with pent up rage. Eddie grips a hand in Steve's mane of hair, has him groaning into the kiss that's all teeth and grunting. You watch through hooded eyes, unable to take your gaze away from them, wetness pooling in your pretty underwear at the sight of them both.
A whine escapes you, the noise filling the air and cutting off their kiss, both of them looking at you with differing gazes. Steve looks like he wants to pin you down and fuck you into oblivion, Eddie looks like he's in love. Steve sits up a little, grabbing at you and Eddie with every free bit of his big hands, fingers roaming unabashedly.
Steve glances at you both, a smirk back to gracing his features, "If you think I'm done with you two yet, you're sorely mistaken."
#eddie munson fic#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x you#steve harrington fic#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steddie fic#steddie fanfic#steddie smut#steddie x you#steddie x reader#steddie x fem!reader#steddie x y/n#my fanfic#mine#smut
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A Fate Inked In Starlight
Eris x Fem!Reader x Azriel
Summary - After crashing into the Autumn Court with no idea who you are, where you are or how you got there, Eris takes it upon himself to hide you and care for you with the help of the Night Court. That is until souls from other walks of life infiltrate Prythian searching for you.
Warnings - mentions of blood, Eris being gentle 🥺, memory loss, kinda arsehole Rhys?x
Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five
Leaves of red and orange peered down at you inquisitively, and the earth was hard and slightly damp beneath you.
You hissed as you moved, a metallic sting coating the inside of your mouth. The world tilted, a dull thumping in your mind swelled behind your eyes and you pinched the bridge of your nose in attempt to centre yourself.
It hadn’t worked.
Looking about, you drank in where you had awoken, soil and an array of foliage welcomed your sight, dark bark held onto browning leaves, some of which floated around where you sat. Light birdsong and the faint chirp of crickets flittered around you with the occasional crunch of dry twigs that snapped under the weight of the mammals that trotted by, not heading much mind to you.
You were clad in some kind of black armour, a second skin that fit you perfectly as it curved around your breasts and hips, the material splitting open in the shape of lightening across your chest where yellow gems and light hummed. Jewelled metal talons were fitted to your fingertips, coated with dry blood that had worked itself into each crevasse it could. You were sure that whatever you looked like was not a pretty sight.
Something had kept you glued to your spot, swaying slightly from the brute force that had clearly been wrecked upon you. From what you had no idea.
From the distance, you heard the beating of hooves against the hard ground, growing louder with each passing moment before a brilliant white stag exploded into the clearing where you were. It was beautiful, those pools of emerald bore into you, there was terror laced behind them, and the stag readied his attack as he lowered his antlers toward you.
“I’m not going to harm you,” you told the creature with an extended hand, an extension of your surrender, “I promise.”
The stag surveyed you, noting the wild hair that had fallen from a once tightly strung braid, the blood that coated your neck and fingers, the bewilderment in your eyes. No, you certainly weren’t a threat.
“I’m not sure how I came to be here. I don’t know where I am,” you continued, as if the stag would be able to answer any of your questions.
The creature relaxed, taking a tentative step forward to sniff the outstretched talons fixed to your fingertips. He huffed and shook his head, one of his hooves tapping against the ground as another sound entered your earshot.
“Dogs,” you said softly, sadness laced in your rough voice that scratched at your throat. “Go. I’ll distract them,” you turned your hand, exposing your palm to him, he rested his snout in it gently, and only for a moment before he bounded away. Leaping over molehills whilst leaving you alone once more.
The barking drew closer and your breath caught in your throat at the obvious number of hounds that approached your position, perhaps mistaking your blood for that of the stags.
They hurtled into the clearing, the hedges and flowers parting for them as they surged through the air and landed in front of you, mouths pulled back and snarling teeth ready to tear you apart. You shuffled back as they circled you, snapping, slobber dripping from their canines causing your heart rate to beat in your ears. Hitting the trunk of a tree, you sighed, realising there were no weapons attached to the leather holsters at your thighs made your current predicament a lot more complicated.
You wouldn’t dream of harming an animal, at least, you thought so.
A flutter of your heart gave way to gentle excitement when you had seen the stag, and even the dogs despite them wanting to turn you into a meal.
A sharp whistle tore their attention from you, pulling them back to the source as he too entered the clearing. His head was tilted to the side and he examined you with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, assessing if you were a threat or not. Red hair and amber eyes found you, and he approached, splitting his gaze between you and your laboured breathing to the scene around you both.
“Who are you?” His voice was rough but held a stoic calm, the deepness of his words made your hairs stand on edge.
A simple question. Your name. You opened your mouth but nothing came out, you stuttered, eyes wide as nothing came to mind, “I, I don’t know.”
You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Wide doe eyes staring at him in bewilderment, he knew your skin would be soft despite the mud and blood coating your surface. The sharp jaw and hallowed cheeks, full pouted lips and an elegantly pointed nose. Too beautiful for a human or fae.
The confusion etched into every inch of your features made the man relax a little, he knelt before you, his dogs happy with wagging tails brushing against his side, “Do you know where you came from?” By the looks of your armour, the blood coated talons, and the cuts dug into the side of your neck, it was clear to him that you weren’t from Prythian. You looked too advanced for his world.
You shook your head, muttering a faint and weak answer to him.
He hummed, reaching to tuck a strand of your dirty matted hair behind your pointed ear. Fae, he noted. Smiling when you didn’t flinch under his touch, he offered a hand to you, it was calloused and rough, but his pressure was gentle and guiding as he helped you from the ground.
“I’m Eris Vanserra, and you’re in the Autumn Court,” he looked down at you through thick lashes and offered a warm smile.
“Eris,” his name fell from your lips and he nodded in encouragement as you familiarised yourself with the sound of it. Yes, you definitely weren’t from his world, if you were, you’d surely cower from his name and the mention of where you were.
A pressure consumed your feet, and you found one of his hounds sat on them, staring up at you with its panting tongue flopping against the side of its jaw, its tail rustling the leaves beneath it as it wagged happily, “That’s enough, Duke,” Eris scolded the hound, rubbing between his ears in a bid to get him to move, “I’m sorry about him.”
“Don’t be. I don’t mind,” you smiled, and he noticed the warmth in your eyes, the molten gold and ocean blue that could have him entranced if he wasn’t careful. “I’m sorry about this,” you motioned the air, the current situation you found yourselves in, “I wish I knew what to say.”
“It’s fine,” he frowned slightly as he peered at the still open flesh on your neck that leaked with every heartbeat, “Let me help you with that.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
Eris smirked, “You’re not asking,” he shrugged as he heading back in the direction from whence he came, adjusting his brown jacket which lay over a cream open collared shirt. You weren’t sure how you didn’t notice it before, the well fit pants and shirt, the adornment of fine rings across his digits. Eris Vanserra was clearly someone of high standing, and you felt stupid for not knowing. The disappointment felt foreign to you.
The male looked back at you expectantly, his well kept fiery red hair tousling over his forehead, freckles visible as the sunlight hit his face. “Thank you,” you followed his steps, Duke trotting alongside you like a personal guard.
Once you had made it back to Fir Manor, Eris’ private residence that was home to him and his hounds alone, he insisted that you bathe, that it would be easier for the healer to assess the damage if she could tell what was or wasn’t your own blood.
You didn’t need telling twice, you thanked Eris for the spare clothes, a sheer deep red dress, before you slipped into the bathroom and peeled off your second skin, paying no mind to the marks that littered your forearms and torso, the marks that covered every inch of your body.
It seemed silly. To be so trusting of someone you’d just met. But something told you that Eris wasn’t a threat to you. Something had allowed you to feel safe with him.
You sighed as the hot water worked to relax your muscles, the rest of the world fading away into blissful nothingness.
Rhys was happy.
Finally happy.
A mate and a babe. A family. No danger for the first time in what felt like a millennia.
Rhys watched them, watched his Nyx swaddled into Feyre’s chest as she painted, humming some lullaby to the dozing babe. Light poured into the room from the domed glass and he let a content sigh pass through his lips from where he leaned against the doorframe. Relishing in the sight for a moment longer before retreating back to his office and closing the door with a soft click.
He wasn’t sure where the rest of them were, Mor would be returning from the human lands soon, Cassian and Azriel were surely training, Nesta was probably nose deep in another book in the library with Amren at her side, and Elain was tucked away with Lucien somewhere revelling in their newly accepted mating bond.
Everything was as it should be.
The papers on his desk were too chaotic for anyone else to understand but him, he knew where each treaty lay in the stack, where each letter from a concerned citizen sat, when Az’s countless reports waited for his eye.
Though, one thing caught his eye that definitely hadn’t been there before he’d gone to check on his mate and child. A folded up rip of parchment, singed at the edges with an aroma of wet grass gripping to it.
It reeked of Autumn, of Eris.
Rhys wasn’t worried that the heir had contacted him. They were planning for a better Autumn once Beron handed over his title, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to hear from the eldest Vanserra at all. Scanning the parchment, Rhys felt his interest grow in the words, the vague message that beckoned him to Fir Manor, telling him that someone had dropped into the forest who Rhys may be interested in meeting.
So, the High Lord of the Night Court stalked through the halls, parchment in hand as the clash of swords and jostling laughter flooded his senses. Then he saw them, his two brothers in their training leathers, wide smiles and bruises that would fade within the hour as they jabbed another with playful words.
“Ah, did you call on Rhys to come and save you, Az? How desperate,” Cassian glimmered, his wings rustling and body keeping guard against Azriel’s oncoming attack.
Rhys stepped between them, holding the parchment in the air between his fingers with a smirk on his lips as Azriel to it from him, scanning the words, “With no memory of where she came from?” Azriel questioned, his shadows curling over his shoulders as though they wished to see what held their masters attention whilst he handed the written words to Cassian who pouted about being left out.
“Do you remember the visitor we had not too long ago?”
Azriel smirked at the memory of the redhead scouring through the caves of Prythian, “Bryce?”
“Yes, Bryce.” Rhys sent a glare to Cassian, no doubt still unhappy at his mates willingness to aid the girl, “She too fell into our world out of nowhere, didn’t she?”
Cassian stopped the thought before it could be shared, “Yes, but Bryce knew who she was and why she came here. It seems this woman doesn’t share that similarity,” he turned the paper over in his hand, like some newfound information was going to be inscribed elsewhere.
From the brief information that Eris had sent to Rhys, the woman who had fell into the Autumn had no idea who she was or where she was let alone how she found herself bleeding in a different world from her own.
“Regardless,” Rhys’ eyes glowed at the hidden message Cassian had tried to convey, that maybe this woman had nothing to do with Bryce and whatever war she was fighting on her shores. Though Cassian did have to admit that it was a coincidence that another soul had floated through into their world. “It needs to be investigated. Azriel, you’ll come with me. Cassian, you’ll stay here.”
The pair knew better than to convince Rhys otherwise, Azriel especially knew better than to refuse and potentially put his home and people in danger.
Another invader had dove into his world, his home, and he’d be damned by the Mother if he let another one trick him again.
Authors Note
Hi my loves!
It’s been a while. I know I’m usually a Bridgerton girly but I’m kinda obsessed with everything SJM right now.
So, here we are. My first Maasverse fic 🤷♀️
I am wanting to write a series on this so let me know what you think! I’ve been out of the game for a bit 🤍
#azriel#rhysand#cassian#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris x reader#acotar#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader#azriel x you#feysand#acotar imagine#maasverse#mor acotar#amren acotar#crescent city#crescent city imagine#bryce quinlan
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