#ribbon seal!reader
Note
Would be really cute if Y/N was, instead of a Selkie, a mer based off a seal. Though they would probably be on the menu :I Anyhoo, Arctic Ribbon Seals are gorgeous, have you seen them before?
Ohhh, a siren Y/N with the tail of an Acrtic Ribbon Seal would be gorgeous! I haven't seen them before! The colors and ribbons on the fur are lovely! Picturing Eclipse seeing them and immediately going "Mine!" is so augh augh augh
You're going to drown. A polar bear is sitting at the only breathing hole for a good mile or two, and you can't take one gulp of air without the threat of the beast biting your head off. Your lungs are burning.
In the distance, you spy a shadowy figure before the black and white markings solidify and a new panic burns through you, hotter than the suffocation. A large orca siren. You truly are meant to die today.
You stagger in a frazzled fear under the ice, debating on risking the polar bear for just a breath or giving the siren a free meal, but his approach is steady, sinister, yes, but lacking the savagery you'd expect from a siren on the prowl.
He reaches you, all teeth and wide eyes, but he tilts his head in a curious regard. You're not really sure what to do but gesture upwards to the breathing hole and form claws with your hands to signify the threat waiting above. Maybe the two predators will take each other out and you can steal a breath of fresh air. If he gets what you're trying to say, he doesn't seem all that scared, and in fact smirks before swimming into the breathing hole.
You blink, stunned, your lungs on fire with lack of air, and wait for blood or thrashing or something, but the siren's strong black and white tail flickers calmly beside you. Did the polar bear already move along? What is the siren doing?
Darken starts to dot the edges of your vision but before you can flail, a large hand reaches down, snags your wrist, and pulls you up into the narrow breathing hole just inches away from his sinister jaws curved up at the ends. You gasp. You're alive!
You're also entirely cornered by the siren, both of your hot breath mixing into deep smoke as he takes up the already precious space and forces you back against the rim of ice until it bumps against your head. He tightly holds your wrist.
You try to spew a swift thank him and dive back down but he's not letting you go. This close, you can only stare into his glowing eyes before he lifts his hand, water dripping down his dark arm. He tenderly pushes a stray strand of hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear, claws trailing the shell of your ear that elicit a shiver down your body.
He tells you he thought you needed protecting when he first saw you, and he was right. You still do. He'll be the one to do it, and you'll be good, won't you, ribbons?
You can't help but think you don't have a say in the matter with his eyes devouring you from head to tailfin.
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𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🐇 introducing princess!reader, ugh i love her sm <3
you were fairly new to kildare island, completely wet behind your chanel-adorned ears. it had only been a few days, since your parents had made the switch from the cozy countryside of puerto rico, unpacking their final cardboard box that harshly clashed against the dreamy interior of your bright and sunny lakeside home. you weren’t surprised that your parents had chosen such a picturesque home of grandeur, they always had a niche for the finer things in life, a trait that was undoubtedly passed down to you.
you see, you had always been a spoiled princess, always insisting of having anything and everything that you wanted — and it was always given to you, without question. perhaps it was the fact that you were an only child? who cares, you were the precious little girl that your parents would go to the ends of the earth for, so why should you accept anything less, from anyone else?
as privileged as it may seem, you did have to admit that you loved living a life where you were pampered and had every single need, no matter how minute or ridiculous, fulfilled without question. you always wore the finest of fabrics from the most upscale brands, exercised in the cutest athleisure wear as you worked up a sweat on your peloton, i mean, you even made it a point to get your hair and nails done every other week. your parents’ banking statements were essays long, detailing your multiple visits to sephora, mainland boutiques, your hefty car note, and monthly spa membership fees.
but, you were far from a ditzy girl, in fact, you were so entitled to the point where you turned your button nose upward at every guy who approached you. you had yet to find a man who didn’t allow you to walk him like a pathetic little dog, you knew that you needed a man who would put you in your place, yet shower you with adornment and lavish gifts.
carefully scraping the tiny smear of residual lipgloss with the tips of your long almond french-manicured nails, you huffed as you flipped your blown-out hair over your shoulder. “ma, m’going to drop this off now!” you called out, tugging on your light grey mini skirt, your fingers dancing over the black lace and pink ribbon adornment, before you grabbed ahold of the white ceramic tray of lemon squares that your mother prepared the night prior.
you’d been given the task of introducing yourself to your neighbors, especially since you father had made it a point to extend the services of his construction company to the fellow members of the country club. your parents had praised you for being their sweet little girl who would be staying home for college to the community, so it was now your turn to seal your reputation as the perfect girl next door, and help uphold your parents’ fresh reputation as newcomers on figure 8.
your perky tits were cutely pushed up against the undone buttons of your undersized button up top, your gold rosary glinting against the sunlight as you made your chanel mules stepped out on the floorboards of your front porch.
𝜗୧
after about an hour of walking from door to door and exchanging your rehearsed pleasantries, while offering the sweet and tangy sticky treat, you’d finally made it to the final home that seemed to overlook the entirety of the community. your puffy cheeks ached from your stretched smile as the soles of your french-pedicure feet throbbed — maybe wearing heels as you walked from porch to porch wasn’t the smartest idea? balancing the tray of lemon gooey lemon squares onto one hand, you brushed a strand of hair from your extended lashes, letting out a small huff, before you mushed your finger into the doorbell.
it didn’t take long before the front door was answered, your rehearsed introduction flitting away from you as you looked up at the blue eyes that stared down at you. your lipstick stained lips parted as the twenty-something year old man stood, his jaw tight as he raised his eyebrows at you, before his eyes shamelessly fell to your pushed-up tits, “i, uh, hi! my family and i recently moved in, so i just wanted to introduce myself,” you smiled, a blush creeping to your cheeks as you revealed your name to the tall man.
“ah, s’that right?” he questioned, clearing throat with a nod to himself as he took it upon himself to lift the plastic wrap that concealed the melted lemon squares, before his curtain bangs fell in front of his eyes. “y’walked all the way here, by yourself, huh,” he mumbled, placing the wrapping to close around the tray, before bringing his intimidating gaze to yours.
with a nod, you nudged the tray in his direction, “would you like one? my mother made them fresh!” you beamed, restoring your role as the mannered girl next door, your trained resolve slowly burning away under the unforgiving north carolina sun.
oh, how he saw right through you.
wordlessly, the young man lifted the plastic wrap, one more, being the small gooey treat to his lips as he kept his eyes on yours, not missing the way you swallowed thickly as he wiped the corners of his pink lips with his ringed index finger and thumb. you watched pathetically with your lips parted as he licked over his lips, “rafe cameron,” he smiled smugly, extending a hand to you.
there was something dark, yet tantalizing about the young man that towered over you, it even brought an undeniable ache to the bundle of nerves between your plush thighs.
accepting his hand, you batted your dolly lashes at rafe, a warmth growing in your tummy as his large hand enveloped yours in a firm grip, his thumb barely kneading into the soft skin between your forefinger and thumb.
deciding to fall back into your stuck-up persona, you were the first to break the hold between you and race, your eyes squinting a bit as you took one step backwards, “it was a pleasure, rafe,” you sang, clutching the empty tray to be tucked into your side.
spinning on your heels, you could feel rafe staring at the under-curve of your soft ass that peeked beneath the tight knit fabric of your skirt, watching as your hips swayed with each step you took. it wasn’t until you were far enough from the young man that you tugged on your skirt to remain secure around your thighs. internally, you scolded yourself for losing event the slightest bit of your cool. you were too good for him, you were too good for him. way too good.
rafe knew this as well, yet he was always proactive when it came to getting what he wanted — even if he had to get a little dirty.
#divider / xxbimbobunnyxx#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron#obx#obx imagine#princess!reader#rafe x reader
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With Love, König
tags: König x f!reader/f!oc, regency era au, manners, collaring, courting, king!König, reader is mildly insane, König is going to marry you and that's a threat
Summary: Your fiance runs off, your reputation is in ruins, and worst of all König has decided he's going to make you his queen. He doesn't even ask your father's permission to do it.
You receive word that your fiance has left you in the short hours of the morning. It comes in a carefully folded note, with his seal, and his signature. It's cruel, but not unexpected. You'd known for long enough that this was an engagement for nothing but your title. Still, you shed a few tears onto the parchment at the loss of your future, bleak as it might have been. You can rest assured that your parents, and the rest of the social world, have already received the news. You expect they'll start looking for another match for you soon.
The second letter is somehow more surprising. You don't recognize the black wax seal, or the handwriting. You don't know how it slipped past your family without being opened, but it's tucked on the same tray as your fiance's letter and you break the seal with cautious fingers.
"My Heart," it begins, and you frown at the familiarity, "You have bewitched me, body and soul. My every hour is spent with thoughts of you. The memory of your touch is only remedied by my own hand, and even that is not enough. I hope that you will accept this small token of thanks for the dance we shared, and look forward to our next meeting with the same fervor I do."
You look up from the letter to stare at the wall. You narrow your eyes at the wallpaper and do your best to try and think of who the fuck is sending you love letters. Certainly not your ex-fiance, he never did more than send you a note asking you to wear something "more appropriate" for the next party. You look back at the letter. It's a bit stuck at the bottom, likely to keep whatever token it contains in place. You slip your finger carefully under the edge of the fold to open it. A silk ribbon flutters onto your lap as you stare down at the king's signature. "With Love, König" in perfect royal handwriting.
You scramble to ring for your maid, you need to get dresses and you need to speak to your father immediately. Your maid seems to either not know or not care that you are received a letter from a king because she helps you get ready with her usual compliments and coos. Disinterested in the day ahead of you, you always assume. She ties the ribbon behind your ears when you ask her what to do with it. The black clashes, but you don't have time to argue.
König is already in the sitting room with your father when you finally make it downstairs. He stands almost as quickly as you drop into a low curtsy. Your father stands too and you're taken aback by how small he looks next to König. Your father has always been a proud man, a man to be feared as much as respected, but next to König he may as well be a child. You drop your eyes to the floor, proper and polite.
"Gott in himmel," König breathes, and your eyes dart to him. His brows are drawn together, like he's in pain. You can't tell if he's displeased when you can only see half of his face, his mouth obscured by a dark black cloth. You meet his eyes and are quick to avert your gaze, lest the heat in his burns you.
You rise from your curtsy and keep your eyes on the floor. "My lord," you greet, and hear him hum. He's pleased you think.
"My lady," The way he stresses "my" makes you shiver, his lady, "look at me when I speak to you." You're quick to follow his command, the tightness in his tone is intriguing, but you can't see a reason for it when you do look up at him.
Your father attempts to raise issue when König stalks towards you, his voice drowned out by the way the king fills your vision. You barely flinch when he grabs your chin, and turns your head. His skin against yours is unfamiliar and rough, it makes your skin prickle with heat as he sighs.
"You're wearing this wrong, Hummelchen," He tells you, his free hand going to tug at the end of the ribbon around your head. The black silk is tugged loose, falling delicately into König's grip. His thumb teases your lower lip, improper and entirely hidden from your father. "You want to wear this right for me, ja?"
You open your mouth to answer and he pushes his thumb between your lips, presses down against your tongue to hold you open. Your eyes dart in your father's direction, panic rising in your chest. König's eyes crease at the edges, he tips his head to watch your tongue try to work under his grip. You settle for swallowing, your lips closing around his finger as you nod your head. What else can you do in the face of a king?
"Braves Mädchen," He praises sending another prickle of heat over your skin. You feel like all your manners are just being thrown out the window, it's making your head spin. His grip loosens, his thumb sliding out from between your lips to smear the wetness against your hot cheek. Warmth pools between your legs, entirely too familiar, and entirely his fault.
König makes a twirling motion with his finger, and you don't hesitate to turn. You can hear his fingers pulling the length of ribbon between his hands, and you're glad to have your hair off your neck when he loops the ribbon around your throat. You have to tip your chin up, you have the sudden --and startlingly appealing-- thought that he could very easily choke you like this. König's fingers pull the ribbon tight, and you make a quiet noise of... protest? Approval? You make a noise, and it loosens just enough to be comfortable. He's quick to tie a neat bow, the tails of it hanging on either side of your spine. You touch your fingers to the silk. Like a collar.
König's fingers linger on your neck, and you tilt your head to afford him space to touch. Each brush of his skin makes your heart race, this monster of a man is so gentle with you. As if you were some treasure he could hardly afford. He curls over you, one of his hands sliding down your arm. He grips your wrist tight, and raises it to his lips. You turn your head to watch him, his eyes are dark when he catches you staring. His teeth flash dangerously in the light where they scrape against your pulse. Not so gentle then.
"You will accompany me to the next party," He leaves no room for argument in his command, states it like a fact predetermined by God, "We'll announce our engagement there."
"Your what?" You father asks behind König, aghast at the breach in conduct. You hardly notice it, entranced by the way he presses his cheek into your palm.
"Kay," You breathe for him. He's just like one of the heroes from your penny novels, better for being real. You wonder if he's ever killed anyone, he'd look good with a little blood on him.
#cod x reader#x reader#x oc#cod x oc#könig x reader#könig cod#könig mw2#könig call of duty#König x oc#könig x f!reader#f!reader#regency au#king!König#oc: Bee#Bee I'm begging you#just notice one red flag PLEASE#Girl he's going to fucking get you
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from POMEFIORE
- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.
- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.
- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.
- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.
Ignihyde | Pomefiore | Scarabia
Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.
It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.
To my darling player,
I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.
All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.
I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.
I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.
The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.
I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?
I would kneel down to no one else.
There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?
Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.
Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.
If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.
I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...
I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.
Yours,
Vil Schoenheit
The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.
They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.
"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.
But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.
For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."
"Boring, huh?"
Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.
Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.
Trickster,
It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.
To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...
I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.
I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.
Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.
Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.
I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.
But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.
So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.
Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.
My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.
My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.
Should you need me, I will be there.
Yours,
Rook Hunt
There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.
Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.
In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.
And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.
Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.
"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!"
Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.
"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."
"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.
In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.
Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.
The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?
Dear Player,
If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.
Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.
The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.
Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.
Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.
Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.
I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.
If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?
Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.
Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.
I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.
This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.
All you gotta do is talk to me.
Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,
Epel Felmier
#twisted wonderland#twst#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#twst imposter au#i didn't ask to isekaied#we just got a letter wonder who it’s from#vil schoenheit#yandere vil schoenheit#twst vil#rook hunt#yandere rook hunt#twst rook#epel felmier#yandere epel felmier#twst epel#pomefiore
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Eddie, My Love!
eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series
Day 2 Prompt: Chocolates 🍫 ~ 2,000 words
Eddie's grumpy until he sees a familiar face in the candy aisle.
“This is a fake holiday,” mumbles Eddie as he pushes the cart past the pink and red aisle of Bradley’s Big Buy.
His uncle chuckles. “When you have someone to spend it with, you’ll feel differently.”
“Wayne,” Eddie deadpans, “this is just some bullshit that Hallmark made up so they could take more of our money.”
“I’m not sayin’ you need to go all commercial,” Wayne clarifies. “I just mean that when there’s someone special in your life, boy, you might be in a better mood during this month.”
Eddie’s mouth sets bitterly. He’d rather not get the ‘you’ll find someone someday’ talk right now — the last thing he needs is another reminder of how lonely he is.
Wayne senses his nephew’s reluctance to discuss the matter, and so bites his tongue. Instead, he points at a row of cans on the shelf beside them. “Do you need more tomato soup, or are you set for a while?”
~
Back at home, Eddie lays on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Yeah, okay, maybe Wayne had a point. Maybe he’d hate all this stupid cutesy shit less if he didn’t have to watch everyone around him enjoy it while he spent yet another Valentine’s Day alone in his uncle’s trailer, with no one to keep him company, save for a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
The worst part of it is — and Eddie would rather die than admit this — that deep down, he thinks he really could be…romantic.
Sure, he’s rough around the edges. He tends to be prickly, wary of others’ intentions, but it’s necessary in order for him to survive in Hawkins. The Munson name was already notorious, and his reputation preceded him; the incident with poor Chrissy Cunningham three years prior, despite his innocence, had sealed his fate as the town pariah.
But if someone could just give him a chance, a real chance, he thinks that he could make that person really happy.
He’d help around the house. Cleaning, laundry, anything you — whoever you are — needed a hand with. He’d learn to cook better so he could keep you eatin’ good. He’d plan fun dates. He’d play your favorite songs on guitar, maybe write you new ones, if he was feeling inspired…anytime you needed him, he’d be there. He’d be the most reliable, affectionate, loving —
“Ed?” There’s a light knock on his door.
“Come in,” he calls back.
Wayne pokes his head into the room. “I’ve got to head to the plant in a few,” he says. “While I’m gone, can you do me a favor?”
Eddie sits halfway up, propped on his elbows. “Yeah, what’s up?”
Wayne fidgets, looking apologetic. “I know we were just there, but d’you mind going back to the Big Buy to pick up some candy? It’s Mrs. Johnson’s first Valentine’s Day since her husband passed, and I meant to get her something sweet, but I forgot.”
Eddie hauls himself up off the floor. “No problem. Want anything specific?”
Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t need nothin’ fancy, just get whatever’s cheapest that still looks nice.”
“That’s the Munson way,” Eddie muses, smiling in spite of himself.
~
Eddie reluctantly makes a turn down the seasonal aisle he had so pointedly avoided earlier, feeling depressed. Cherubs and teddy bears seem to mock him from where they sit, and he heaves a dramatic sigh.
His eyes roam the line of cards, plush toys, endless boxes of chocolates and candies, when they finally land on you, also perusing the rows of heart-shaped packages.
Recognition flickers instantly. Eddie suddenly finds that his heart is beating very quickly in his chest.
You.
You had still been a year behind him when he finally graduated, and though he didn’t really know you-know you, he was friends with people who did. You weren’t bullied like he and the guys were, but you weren’t exactly popular, either — and so more often than not, you ran in similar circles. Gareth and Harry used to swear up and down that you were the nicest girl in Hawkins.
Because of them, he had spent brief moments with you from time to time. He thought you had been very pretty, in your own unique way, but you were also rather shy. Your exchanges were always polite and charming, even if they never broke deeper than surface-level; overall, he’d found you incredibly endearing.
He never kept in touch, but as the years went by, he had often wondered about you.
Back then, it was hard to see past his own preoccupations: he was so focused on not failing his classes, Corroded Coffin, Hellfire, his dealing gig with Rick. But in retrospect, it always seemed to him like he had missed out on something special in not taking the time to properly befriend you.
Now, against all odds, you’re right here in front of him. And he had found you attractive back then, but now? Holy shit. You’re striking to look at.
As he studies your side profile, he thinks, it’s not that your appearance has really changed much, but rather the way you seem to be holding yourself.
You used to walk quickly through the hallways with your shoulders hunched and your head down, like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible. But now your posture is relaxed, your stance casual; your head is held high and a slight smile turns up the corners of your lips. And your clothes seem different too, like maybe you’d finally found your personal style, and were dressing in the way that you truly liked.
Is this what they call kismet? Fate, destiny, whatever, maybe Eddie’s fantasy-oriented brain was jumping to conclusions, but he thinks of the floor-misery he’d been wallowing in not even an hour ago — had his internal bitching been an unintentional prayer, which was now being answered?
He takes a few cautious steps forward, trying to act natural.
You glance at him when he comes nearer and offer him a quick smile before turning back to the sweet assortment before you.
Eddie stands next to you awkwardly, pretending to browse, hoping to see you make some gesture of familiarity, any confirmation that you might remember him as well as he remembers you.
But nothing. The seconds tick by.
You reach for a box of chocolates and Eddie’s overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. He starts sweating. Any second now, you would pluck a shiny, ribbon-adorned package and twirl away from him, vanishing into thin air, and the moment would be gone. His opportunity would be over, and he’d never, ever see you again.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out. His face turns crimson, but he blunders on anyway. “I don’t wanna bother you, but did you graduate from Hawkins High in ‘87?”
You turn to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, one arm still outstretched. A breathy laugh escapes you. “Yeah, I did.” You give him the tiniest wave. “Hi, Eddie.”
He could almost cry in relief. You do remember him.
“Hi.” He returns your wave, dopey grin unfurling on his face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you just now. I didn’t think you would remember me,” you explain apologetically.
Forget you? Absurd. “Of course I remember you. How’ve you been?”
Your voice is bright, cheerful. “I’ve been good! Busy with school.”
College, of course. You had definitely been an honor roll kid. “If you’re in school, then you don’t still live in town, do you?”
“Nah, my university’s too far. I got a place near campus, but I come home every now and then.” You smile, and motion towards yourself. “Obviously.”
“Oh. Nice.” Eddie twiddles his thumbs nervously. “Are your classes going good?”
“For the most part. They’re stressful sometimes, but that’s to be expected, I guess.”
“Yeah, but you’re super smart. I’m sure you’re killin’ it up there.”
“I’m trying my best,” you reply with a modest shrug. “What about you? What have you been up to lately?” You look at him with genuine interest, like you’re truly eager to hear about how he’s doing.
Oh, what to say. He opts for simplicity. “Bartending. At the moment I’m between The Hideout and The Attic. Although, I’m thinkin’ about trying to get a job at the garage instead.”
“You should!” Your voice is sincere, full of warmth. “I bet you’d be great there — I know you did a lot of work on your van.”
A bolt of pleasure runs through him. You didn’t just remember his name and face, but you recalled some minor details about him as well. He stands a little taller. “Thank you. We’ll see if it works out, I suppose.”
There’s a brief pause. Eddie moistens his chapped lips with his tongue. “Listen…”
Do it, you coward. If she says no, she says no, and you’ll get over it. Eventually.
“Um, if you’re ever home for the weekend, would you maybe wanna hang out? Grab a coffee or something?”
You look taken aback, but not displeased. Eddie counts that as a win.
“Sure. That would be really fun.”
He flashes you a grin. “Sick.” Then it occurs to him: you came home for Valentine’s Day weekend. Surely you’re in Hawkins because you have a date lined up with some former classmate who swooped in and asked you out after he had gone, and that’s who you were buying candy for and —
“I’m assuming you’re busy this weekend, though?” You point at the treats in front of you. “‘Cause I see you’re here to pick up the goods,” you tease him cheerfully.
“Oh, n-not really,” he stammers. “Wayne asked me to pick up something for our neighbor. I’m just an errand boy.” He swallows. “Do you have any big plans?”
“Nope,” you reply casually, lips popping the p-sound. You pull the candy you’d be aiming for before he interrupted, a pack of Hershey’s cream-filled chocolate hearts. You nod at him sagely. “I am my own Valentine this year.”
You don’t need to be. I’ll volunteer.
Eddie musters up all his courage, rocking slightly on his feet. “Actually, if you don’t have plans…like, if you’re not seeing anybody…would you wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” Nerves get the better of him and he starts pouring out word-vomit, totally oblivious to the way your expression is getting softer and softer the longer he rambles. “I get that it’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t know if you think that’s really…weird for a first date, or…if you even wanna go on a date with me at all, which if you don’t, that’s totally fine and I understand —”
“I don’t think that would be weird at all,” you cut in, giving him a smile that could melt an iceberg. “Eddie, I would love to go on a date with you.”
He feels like he’s having a fever dream. This can’t be real. Is this what manifesting is?
From now on, when he wants something, he’s gonna go cry on his bedroom floor about it.
Painfully aware of how clumsy his proposition came out, Eddie tries to put at least one suave move on you. “Well, if we really have a date tomorrow,” he says, swiping the Hershey’s from you, “then there’s no reason for you to be buyin’ your own chocolates. Allow me.”
Ten minutes later, both of you armed with candies and a phone number apiece, Eddie escorts you across the icy parking lot to your car. You grip his arm tightly crossing over a slippery patch of asphalt, and his stomach flutters in a way it hasn’t in years.
Okay, okay.
Maybe there is something to be said for this stupid, fake holiday.
thank you for reading!! xoxo
Valentine's Day Special Masterlist
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson reader insert#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson comfort#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader
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jay coquette trend
jay x fem!reader
warnings: none! skinship, fluff
"baby?" jay hums in acknowledgment when you call out the soft word. "can i do something for a tiktok?" jay glances in your direction, raising one eyebrow. "that depends, what are you gonna do?" you smile and hold out a pink ribbon. "i wanna tie this around your bicep!" jay looks at the ribbon, then at you and smiles. "of course,"
so now you're sitting on his lap, tying a cute bow on his bicep. "stay still," you say through giggles. jay just smiles. after tying the bow you pull out your phone and start recording. only after you posted it on tiktok did you allow your boyfriend to cuddle up to you.
"cutie," you murmur, eyes trained on the bow around his hard muscle. "love you baby," he said and sealed the night with a kiss.
#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#jay x reader#jay fluff#park jongseong#park jongseong x reader#park jongseong fluff#enhypen#enhypen blurb#jay blurb#park jongseong blurb
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made by hand
pairing: contractor!joel miller x housewife f!reader
day five of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: bondage
-> read her day five here
summary: He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.
warnings/tags: no outbreak, bondage, unprotected piv, joel's pov, age gap (joel is 40s, reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, joel is mushy, fixation, pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc), infidelity (reader is married)
word count: 1.5k
rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni
a/n: in the same universe as this one-shot but set far enough after to be readable w/out it!
main masterlist
Joel doesn’t know what he did to be able to have you like this—to be able to steal this time from you—when you have so much else.
Even worse, you’re a dream. Soft and gorgeous and strung up for him, belly flush to the mattress with your wrists laid over the knobs of your spine, gathered in a twist of baby blue.
He sits against the backs of your thighs, his own bracketing the swell of your hips, cock bobbing in a sticky pool over the smooth surface of your inner leg. You suck in a breath and punch out a whine each time you can feel the firmness of him, grazing over every slice of skin except where he knows you want him most.
He peers down, runs a hand across the link of your wrists, smiling when he sees the way you’ve tucked two fingers into the hollow of your palm—holding your own hand—like you have to discipline yourself one extra degree.
After taking his mouth and his fingers for as long as he’d pleased without too much push-back, your efforts don’t go unnoticed, “Go on and ask me what you want to ask me, sweetheart. Think you’ve earned that much.”
“Can you touch me?” He can see you tug against where you’re bonded, an extension of your plea.
Joel thinks it’s a sad thing, the made-by-hand contraption he’s used to restrain you—a wide loop of tall ribbon sewn through the center to leave a pair of loose cuffs. He’d originally crafted it because he wanted to give you something pretty—a gift that wouldn’t cause concern or raise any unwanted attention, perfectly mundane when stowed in the safety of your sock drawer. It was the first for-you-from-him that went beyond his body, something he selfishly hoped could also serve as a memento should he ever become just the past.
It took him one weekend to make and two months to bring to you, driving up that long stretch of unfinished pavement and pulling it out of his pocket, red-cheeked and anxious. The seams are jagged where he spent hours sealing them shut, barreling over each other in a weave to keep the integrity, the deep color of the thread more than a few shades off—steel against pastel. He had tried to hide the imperfections, smooth side up in his hand as he muttered some lame preamble about something nicer than using the underwear, sometimes. He remembers the face you made at him when you unwound his hold, no huff of laughter at his break in character like he thought, telling him you loved it.
It’s the only thing you use now.
“‘M already all over you; already put so much of me on you, in you. What do you mean, baby? Be more specific.”
“I need you—need it inside.”
He tugs on the center strip—the binding—rolling a finger over the lip to tighten the slack that allows the accessory to be slip-on. That feature, other than making the contraption reusable, alleviated the issue of markings; his stomach sinks when he’s reminded evidence is even a factor.
He bends down, initially careful to keep his cock at surface level when he hovers over you, the bristle of his beard behind your ear making him sigh, that spark of possessiveness bringing something hungrier, “Say it again.”
“Can you please put–”
“Don’t be smart. You know what I want to hear; say it again.”
Tipping forward on his knees, he lets the length of him run down the crest of your ass, passing through where he can feel your heartbeat, shining folds of flesh that beg to be parted—ever the fool who can’t deny you much for long.
“I need you.”
His chest constricts, heart dimpling underneath where you’re always holding it in your clutch; just the weight of your desire for him is enough to pull his body down through the ground, to the other side of the earth. He needs you, too, so desperately. Naively, in moments like this, with declarations like that, he sees success in all of this—sees keeping you.
Joel leans back, thumb sliding against the stripe of wet at your cunt, peeling back the seam to get a better look at the hole he wants so horribly to fill. His cock aches, heavy and hot and ready to take.
He wishes he could savor it—tries to every time—but he never knows how long this will last. How long it will be before you attend the couples counseling sessions your husband asks of you. How long before you decide that a house and kids and the life he can’t provide for you might actually be enough. How long it’ll be before you just tire of him. So he’s greedy, takes everything you feed him straight to the stomach; he doesn’t have the patience to chew, in fear of not being able to finish.
He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.
And he does—uses that exploring hand to guide the head of his cock to the slip of warmth you so meanly demand him to enter, so sweetly beg him to stay in.
“Again.”
He rolls his other wrist to gather up more of that silk, dragging the mess of limbs higher up your back, both for leverage and to remind you he’s strong—worth that, too.
When he slides himself in, he can feel the squeeze run through to the very tips of his toes, the points of his ears—boiling, syrupy heat that forces his body to lock up, terrified to fall over and take his last breath as a result.
“I’ll give you as much of this cock as you want, honey. Just want to hear a few little words.”
He pushes in firmly despite his threats, and so easily does he meet the end of you, apex of your womb perfectly made to receive him, like you’d been fitted for each other. He pants as silently as he can, setting aside his pleasure in favor of yours, not even to be distracted by his own voice.
Joel forces as much of his weight as you can handle on the bundle at your back, swinging into you with the power of everything he’s too afraid to confess. He can fuck that reassurance into you, instead—make up for his inability to be confident in those more tender moments with the role he takes in this swirl of lust.
He can tell by the way you constrict around him that you’re close, the squelch of where you meet heightening every time he moves in to the hilt.
“I’m gonna come, Joel. Fuck.”
“Don’t like askin’ twice. C’mon, focus.”
He bows again, bracing his legs so he can wedge his right arm through the slot at your hip, elbow flat to the bed as he reaches down, in. Your clit is smeared in your slick, running down from where he’s giving you everything, and thinks maybe you understand what he’s trying to tell you without words. He pushes as best he can against the bead, fingers working rhythmically to bring you there, knowing he won’t be able to take much more.
You’re crying now, it seems, from the broken shape your words take as they fall out, “I-I, Joel. I need you. Please. I love you.”
He can’t handle that, the pulse of his orgasm almost immediate, the fierce curl of your cunt around him no help. You whine under him, and if it weren’t for the risk of crushing you, he’d take his mouth to yours.
He fucks you until he can’t, until he expresses his response to exhaustion. He’s heaving by the end, forehead to your shoulder where it’s glued down with sweat.
It takes him much longer now to come down, to shimmy out from over your body, to release and turn and fold you into his lap.
Cruelly, he keeps the silk in his palm, thinking he can force another memory into it by making it bear witness to all of this; another knot in your ‘relationship’—as close as this will ever come to being that, anyway.
Joel breathes at the crown of your skull, hair tickling his lips when he finally decides to break the silence, “Do you really?” And before it has the chance to be taken away from him, “I love you, too.”
#SORRY this is late im on .... v*c*tion#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#tlou fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#kinktober#kinktober 2023#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction
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Game over.
Starring: Satoru Gojo x f!reader x Ryomen Sukuna;
Format: one-shot;
Warnings: nsfw, threesome, alternative universe– University AU, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (Satoru!receiving), hair pulling, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, kind of power imbalance, rough sex, slut shaming, praise kink, creampie, use of pet names, language, dirty talk, impact play, size kink;
Plot: A basketball match. Satoru and Sukuna, two rivals ready to risk it all for winning the annual Cup. Becoming the head cheerleader comes with some peculiar duties and thus you found yourself pleasing Satoru right before the match. When he left you unsatisfied, Sukuna suggested to help you out in exchange of a ‘little favour’, in case he won the competition. You agreed, sealing a deal with the devil that earned you nothing but an extrosensorial experience, when you end up becoming the real object of the team leaders’s desires.
﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
Your eyes were staring deeply into his piercing blue ones, his hand holding your ponytail so tightly your scalp felt numb, as he thrusted his hips forward relentlessly. Your make up was a mess at this point. Drool was dribbling down your chin, the tears brimming in your eyes were making your vision blurry and your throat contracted almost convulsively to adjust to the intrusion of his cock.
"Fuck— Are you sure you're a cheerleader? Taking my cock like that, you seem more like porn actress, you know?" Satoru hoarsely breathed out, gritting his teeth afterwards as he felt the tip of your nose pressing onto his navel. It was too much. Your jaw stung at that point, your mind blank, while you squeezed your eyes shut to focus on breathing through your nose.
Satoru grunted up above, his thrusts sloppy, by the time someone knocked on the door with urgency. The match was about to start and the squad needed their Captain to define the last details of their strategy.
Satoru Gojo, a myth, a legend around the Campus, was the Leader of one of the two basketball teams annually contending for the University Cup. The Blue Sorcerers had been winning for three consecutive years under the lead of Satoru. He did not feel any pressure for the upcoming match, choosing to fuck your mouth instead. It was a ritual, or so you had been told by the outgoing head cheerleader: before the match, whoever inherited that position had to please Satoru Gojo in the changing room.
You were kind of baffled by the unconventional duty weighing on you, but it was not like you were against it. After all, it was Satoru Gojo you were talking about. You had been daydreaming about him for a while now. Watching him training every single day under the scorching sunlight was not enough anymore. If you could get the chance to be bent over by him without patiently waiting for him to pick you among the crowd of his fangirls, well, screw your morals, you were totally in.
It had been quite simple to settle things up. Apparently, he already knew you had been chosen to be the next head cheerleader. Therefore, when you had subtly sneaked into the designated place for the filthy deed to be done, he was not surprised to see you. He had encouraged you to drop to your knees right away, claiming you did not have much time and now you still felt your cheeks boiling at the shameless way you had obediently fallen at his feet. Pathetic, was it not?
"I'm coming" Satoru sassed, his answer sufficing both for you as a warning and for the player calling out his Captain from the other side of the door.
A soft groan erupting from his throat was all your brain registered, when a warm, thick liquid flooded down your sore throat and he abruptly pulled out of your mouth with a pop. You almost gagged, the pads of your fingers wiping away the tears from your face as you swallowed whole, the salty taste of his seed making your tastebuds explode. You were a mess. The sky blue ribbon in your hair was undone, your panties were soaked, your clit throbbed in need and you had to go back to the girls in twenty minutes.
As you heavily tried to steady your breath, palms planted onto the floor, you looked up at him in a daze. How were you supposed to compose yourself and root for his team, when your pussy spasmodically clenched around nothing? You were surely going to be replaced as the head cheerleader, after the imminent failure awaiting for you in the gym.
“I ain’t got time for cuddles or whatever you want. I have a match to win, darling. — he promptly said, winking at you before grasping a towel and handing it to you in a hurry — I will get out first. See you later, alright? I might need to ask you for a second round or something” he fretted, before fixing his clothes and jogging towards the exit.
The sound of the door closing behind him made you flinch, as you sighed and stood from the kneeling position you were in. He had literally used you like a fuck toy and did not even worry about you reaching your climax. Well, Satoru Gojo was a selfish brat. The hot stud only chased his own relief, apparently. Tossing the towel away in frustration, you turned towards the mirror and hastily tried to give a sense to your hair and make up.
You could clearly hear the screams and the burst of applause to incite the teams to make their appearence, eachoing through the corridors. You definitely needed to get a grip and join your friends.
“Damn it” you hissed, dashing towards the door and opening it, only to bump your head against what felt like a wall, but actually was a broad chest.
You winced softly, hand massaging your forehead as you flicked your gaze up. The red hues scrutinizing your face were unmistakable, just like the red t-shirt he was wearing. The pink hair, the tattoos adorning his face and biceps, the smug grin he flashed at you.
Ryomen Sukuna.
“Watch out, doll” he croaked out, staring you down as he folded his arms against his chest, his imposing height making you feel like a hapless ant about to be squashed by a boot on the concrete.
“Yeah, sorry, I really have to go now” you replied, faking a polite smile as you whipped your head to the opposite direction and started to walk away from him. You did not want any trouble, especially with him, the new leader of The Raging Curses.
However, he was clearly not done with you. His hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist made you gasp. Eyes widening in panic, you twirled around to face him again. No good came from him, ever. Especially when he showed off that shit-eating grin you loathed oh so much. You had barely interacted since he had arrived at your Campus. You shared some classes with him and he always was that guy disturbing the professors.
“Was it Satoru the guy who ran out of the changing room less than five minutes ago?” Sukuna quizzically asked you, arching a dark eyebrow up as you felt your stomach churn in apprehension.
“No” you blurted out way too quickly for your own likings.
“Don’t fucking lie. I was waiting for him to check if the rumors were true. I have seen him fumbling with his sweatpants on his way out” he sternly said, his grip around your wrist tightening even so slightly as he tugged you towards him.
Stumbling on your feet, you glared up at him “Why does it concern you?” you asked him coldly, your heart drumming in your chest. Your breath was uneven and you truly feared you were going to collapse for the pressure. Well, Satoru not only had denied you an orgasm but he had also left you to deal with that brute everyone hated and tried to avoid all across the Campus.
“Actually, I am glad he had his dick sucked before the match. It’s well-known that sex before a competition is detrimental to the performance” he stated confidently, abruptly letting go of you, albeit he was standing still way too close for you to feel comfortable. You could smell his strong cologne and you recognized it to be Sauvage, much to your dismay.
That guy exuded masculinity and your hormones were making it hard for you to think straight.
Your upper lip twitched at his vulgar comment, though, and you fought back the instinct to slap him out of irritation. You were still tense, your hands trembling as you scoffed and tried to walk away once again “Okay, fine, good for you then. Bye” you dismissed him, forcing your legs to take heavy steps towards the stairs leading you to the gym.
Once again, though, his voice stopped you and this time you froze solid. Cold sweat collecting on the back of your neck, you faltered as you clenched your fists down your sides and hesitantly glanced at him from above your shoulder “What did you say?” you feebly inquired, hoping you had somehow misheard his question.
The pink-haired guy smirked and cocked his head to the side “He hasn’t even stuck a finger into your cunt, right?” he repeated himself, not a single ounce of remorse in his voice, the choice of words had been specifically oriented to achieve a certain kind of reaction from you.
You gaped, unable to move from where you were standing along with firing something back at him for several seconds. You had no time for that and, honestly, you were not in the mood to talk about your debatable sex life with a natural born bastard like him.
“Can you stop pesting me? Fuck off” you uttered, only for him to chuckle and ambling towards you with his typical jaunty step.
He was demonically perfect. You had to admit it to yourself, even though he was a despicable guy. A red flag, obviously, collecting hearts in his imaginary black-pitch jar.
“Come on, doll, I was kidding! — he started, winking at you before checking the area as if he was trying to detect any presence besides the two of you in that desert corridor — What if I want to help you out? It might be difficult for you to swing your legs in the air, landing in splits, or doing whatever shitty moves your choreography requires, if your clit throbs like that…” he seraphically said, the angles of his lips lifting upwards as his ruby eyes travelled up and down your frame.
Small. You felt so small and vulnerable under his attentive gaze. That wolfish grin never ceased to make your legs quiver in both dread and arousal. He was blatantly messing with your head, with your feelings and your body was screaming for that release.
“You are sick” you stated, trying to resist the temptation to give in.
“Isn’t what Satoru and you have done in there sick as well? Always jabbing your fingers at me, when he is just as devious as I am. — Sukuna chided you in a mocking tone, leaning his shoulder against the wall — I am serious, pretty thing. Would you like me to help you out?” he whispered, causing you to press your thighs together to relieve the pulsing need between your legs.
You hated him. You hated this. You hated Satoru for having put you in such a compromising position.
“We don’t even have the time for that” you hissed through gritted teeth, while the cheering crowd above you seemed to get impatient with every passing second. You were stuck in a whole other dimension, questioning your conscience and cursing yourself for having accepted to prostrate yourself at Satoru’s feet. Along with even considering the possibility of allowing him, the infamous Ryomen Sukuna, to please you in the middle of a corridor.
Your stream of consciousness, however, was soon interrupted by the player’s clarification.
“Oh, doll, I need less than two minutes to make you cream on my fingers” he remarked, causing your knees to buckle under his magnetic gaze.
The mere idea of getting rid of such a frustrating problem was surely giving you the incentive to agree and let him have his way with you, but you knew that if you gave him your consent to help you out, you would have also been expected to repay him in some wicked way. Was it worth it, though? And, above all, what could he ever asked of you to make you reluctant to keep your word?
“What’s the price?” you asked him through gritted teeth, mouth dry as he reached his hand out to grasp your hand and push you against the wall.
Caged between his massive body and the cool surface at your back, you knew your morals were completely gone at this point. Already bent by Satoru, they had been now disrupted by his rival. The moment his fingers crept up your thigh, smoothly slithering up to push the dampened fabric of your panties to the side, you lolled your head back against the wall and hooked your leg around his hip, granting him the access to your aching core.
“If Satoru loses the match, I want to fuck you” he declared, making your cheeks heat up at the mere thought of it happening.
You nodded your head, eager to feel his touch, to let his fingers explore your warm cavern and push you quickly over the edge. You were not worried about the deal, as you felt the pads of his fingers draw irregular figure eights on your bundle of nerves. You were sure Satoru was going to win. He always won. Soft moans falling from your lips, Sukuna grinned and soaked in the sight of you arching your back as his index and forefinger plunged deeply into your core.
“You think he’s going to win, don’t you?” he taunted you, thrusting his fingers into your soppy cunt.
Your eyes were half-lidded, thighs quivering as you choked out a brief answer “He has to win”.
Sukuna chuckled, speeding up his movements to reach that spongy spot within your walls that always drove girls nuts. Watery vision, you whimpered, not caring anymore if anyone passing by could hear you or see you like that. Your breath was erratic, his fingers curling into you made your mind go fuzzy as your hands clutched his t-shirt in your fists for dear life.
In a matter of seconds, your inner walls tightened around his fingers and you let out a strained moan of pleasure as the knot in your lower abdomen snapped. Your essence coated his fingers, your body finally relaxing as Sukuna smirked and slipped his fingers out of you. You were panting, flattening your back against the wall in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm.
You watched him wrap his lips around his fingers, sucking them clean right before your longing eyes as he then hummed and took a step back from you “Now I am definitely fucking hoping Satoru will lose” he commented, before gesturing for you to see him later.
Fixing your panties underneath your skirt, you let the recent events wash over you, knowing damn wall that this little stunt had left you yearning for more. And when you ran up to your girls, white and blue pompons in hands, ready to cheer for The Blue Sorcerers, you realized that maybe Satoru deserved to lose, that your brain kept screaming in pain for wanting Sukuna, that letting his rival take you, the girl he thought was only destined to him for the season, was the right punishment for having been a presumptuous bastard.
Just like that, you led your team to the middle of the gym. All eyes on you, you began to dance for supporting Satoru’s team as if nothing had happened. But every single time you locked eyes with him, he saw defiance in your eyes. Swaying your hips, cheering the players up, you felt your heart thrumming in your chest in anticipation. Standing on the front line, you made sure to give it your best shot, while feeling Sukuna’s eyes trailing up and down your body in hunger. Maybe he was not just going to play for the glory, but for asserting his dominance on you, something Satoru claimed to be his and his alone.
When the two men shook hands, they coldly wished each other a silent ‘good luck’. The coin flipped by the umpire decided who was going to have the ball first and you closed your eyes, inhaling sharply as you heard Sukuna sneering. Only two words left his lips.
“Game on”.
Every time he scored a point, Sukuna made sure to look at you. Pride in his fiery eyes as Satoru cussed in distress, bickering with his fellow mates to focus and try to catch up with the opponents. Yet, when you saw a plethora of red and black flags waving and fluttering all around you, a shaky breath left your lips. Reality tasted bittersweet on your tongue as you lost yourself among the overjoyed crowd of cheering people.
Satoru Gojo had lost.
He was visibly baffled, shocked even, as he angrily tossed away a towel his friend Suguru had handed to him. His jaw was clenched as he kicked the door on his way out, people around you celebrating the victors as Sukuna’s eyes searched for yours among the crowd. A promise was a promise and your legs started to move almost under the influence of his demanding glare.
The dull sound of your back hitting a locker, knocking the air out of your lungs temporary, was just the beginning of the lewd act taking place after the match. As soon as he had gotten you alone, Sukuna had literally grasped your jaw and his tongue had invaved your mouth right away. The passionate kiss was meant to be a distraction from his hands roughly hiking your skirt up to tug your panties down your thighs.
The way he had picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he slammed your back against the locker had left you breathless. He was hungry but so were you at this point. Your hands gripped his shirt, prompting him to take it off to expose his chiseled abs to your lustful stare. Not much was said as he lowered his pants down enough to free his bulge from the restraints of his boxers and, while your tongue began to trace the patterns of his tattoos, he ran the head of his cock down your folds to collect your juices.
“What the fuck, you’re still soaked… You wanted this so badly, I could see the way you internally squealed out in joy when I scored. Maybe you should become my cheerleader, not his” Sukuna rasped out, pushing just the tip into your opening to test your reaction.
You whined, mouth hanging open as you tried to push yourself even closer to him to get another inch into you. You craved him, you needed him more than anything else right now.
“Fuck… You’re so needy. Here, scream my name, let them hear you” Sukuna rasped out, before snapping his hips forwards and sheathing himself completely into you. A strained moan erupted from your throat, as your walls clamped down onto him so deliciously, as you buried your head on the crook of his neck.
He groaned at your tightness, his hands squeezing your ass roughly, not caring for possibly leaving bruises on your skin as he began to set out a punishing pace. His thrusts truly left you breathless, his girth stretching you out so perfectly every time he pulled slightly out before thrusting in again. You were loud, too loud and someone clearly heard you, but you did not care enough about your reputation at the moment.
“Who are you?” Sukuna suddenly blurted out, his pace brutal as you whimpered out in pleasure and a sting of pain.
“W–What?” you meekly babbled out.
“Who are you, doll?” he repeated, hinting at something specific that only as he reached your cervix you realized.
“Satoru’s cheerleder”.
“And who is fucking you?”.
“S-Sukuna! Ryomen Sukuna!” you breathlessly said, right before the door banged opened and you both snapped your head towards the unexpected guess.
Your stomach dropped when a pair of sky blue eyes met yours, while you heard a dark laughter rumble from deep into Sukuna’s chest. Of course he was amused by that. Satoru closed the door with a foot, his eyes never leaving the scene playing before his eyes as he approached you. You did not know what to say, merely whimpering as Sukuna had only opted for slowing down his thrusts, not stopping them at all.
“I need her. Get your fucking hands off of her” Satoru flatly stated, earning a scornful glance from the pink-haired man.
“Ah, no, mate. There’s no way in hell I’mma stop now. If you haven’t noticed it yet, I’m balls deep into her. Waut for your turn” Sukuna grumbled, resuming his fast pace as you squirmed in total shock and on the verge of cumming all over his dick.
It almost felt surreal the way they talked about you, about using use as if you were not even there, as if you were a mere trophy to use to let them steam off the stress. Your vision was blurry as you clung to Sukuna, mewling at the way he held you still.
“S–Satoru, I–” you tried to retaliate, but it only made things worse as he gripped his hand and grasped a fistfull of your hair, earning a pained wince from you. His face was so close to yours you could feel his breath on your lips as he spoke.
“Shut your mouth, you slut. You could not wait until the end of the match to be stuffed full, could you? Fine, open that stupid, disgusting mouth of yours and make me cum” he hissed through gritted teeth, as Sukuna only pulled out of you to let you drop on your knees in front of his rival.
Was he willing to share? Were you going to be taken by them contemporary?
Your mouth watered and you had no idea of why your pussy clenched like that at the mere thought of pleasuring them both at the same time. Right, pleasuring them because you knew that once you became a piece of meat between them, your pleasure would have most likely became secondary. Did you want that, though? Yes. Was this something that could happen once again? No.
With your pleading out flicking up to lock with Satoru’s ones, you chewed on your lower lip thoughtfully, pondering what to do, before eventually nodding your head and watching as he tugged his pants down and knelt in front of you. Your mouth was right in front of the pinkish tip of his cock as he gave it a few languid strokes, before tapping with on your lips to part them opened.
“Man, you’re so pissed you might pop a vessel” Sukuna taunted Satoru before leaning his cock towards your core and sliding back into you with groan. His large hands gripped your hips possessively, as your moaned out around Satoru’s cock.
Drool ran down your chin as you swung your arms towards Satoru’s thighs for balance.
“Shut up. — Satoru deadpanned, pushing his cock into your mouth too quickly, causing you to almost gag around him — And you better be careful not to use your teeth, little slut” he then chimed, staring down around you sucking eagerly on his lenght.
The tempo they chose was mind-blowing. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room like a pornographic soundtrack, as both Satoru and Sukuna’s grunts made goosebumps raise on your skin. Full of them, shared like an antelope between two vicious lions, you felt yourself driven towards your orgasm.
“Good girl… Coming on my cock already? Yeah, that’s it, give it all to me” Sukuna rasped out, landing a spank on your jiggling ass.
Satoru hummed and twitched into your mouth, sinking his foreteeth onto his bottom lip not to groan too loudly. But it was all too much to prolong it further, when Sukuna buried himself into you until the base, his heavy balls slapping your clit one last time, you came too and you shivered at the feeling of your juices mixing into you.
Satoru sighed, deciding not to let you feel as satisfied as you maybe wished. Right before he exploded down your throat, he pulled out of your mouth and let his cum drip down your face, down the length of your nose, letting it slide down your cheeks because he knew you were fine with it as well, because after all, you were a good head cheerleader.
And you had just fulfilled your mission.
AUTHOR NOTE.
Hello there! I am staring at the screen of my laptop not knowing what to say. Writing threesome is kind of fun, I got to say, albeit I hope I will be able to get better at it through the time. Let me know what you think about it!
As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!
Until next,
X O X O
TAGS: @axesfordays @brittscafe @lawlerek @axeballs @sadmonke @cyberdazetragedy @some-thing-else-possible @genderfluidnuggettt @getoxmahito @levenlike11 @badbclub @natsukicookies @reinerbraunsodmgear @poisonssworld @allypercocett @sad-darksoul @superspideyparker @tamarasblogs @goose-peachy @fandomsinthegalaxies @lynnsemptymind @the-dark-creature @oneofthesevensins @devianisnottaken @omgimboredsoimhere @mirrormirrorpartii @dinomeow @eyeballpussy @camilalexa93 @huboi @teonawrites @o725v @kikosamus @rose-silk @flakeygod @sukunamylovexoxo @waiting4themoon @insanegirlbloging @ichikanu @tartagl @vimzya
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#gojo smut#satoru smut#satoru gojo x reader#satoru x reader#gojo x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#sukuna ryomen smut#ryomen sukuna#ryomen sukuna smut
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ghost x reader regency au, where he’s pretty much obsessed with the idea of being the one for you.
He's one of your suitors. Rich, big, respected in the community. a man that practically owns the town nearby and makes it his whole personality.
Would be a good suitor, if he wasn’t that controversial. He's being known for “tricking” people, but no one could catch him on that, so he was clean; in theory. Most of the people just feared him and stayed out of his business, for their own good.
Well, at least that was before. before he got interested in you in one of the balls where he spotted you. a gentleman, truly—a little bit stiff, but a gentleman with manners. Quick chit-chat with your mom, dad, even you, asking what you are interested in.
No one asked you this question ever so maybe that’s why it hit you.
Despite that, you ignored the pleas to meet with him, your father even helped you in that. Staying out of trouble, you thought, as you brushed your hair, staring at the sealed envelope with your name.
From Simon Riley.
Little did you know, he wasn’t having any of it. Not your ignorance, not your father’s awkward smile, when he met him in town and asked about you, how have you been. Simon wasn’t an impatient man, but sometimes he needed to take action that might seem risky.
Not like he cared.
Maybe that’s why the next day after this interaction, you see a package, carefully delivered by your maid to your room. It’s big enough, with an enormous ribbon around it—doesn’t take you long to open it, but the shock afterwards is longer.
A dress. Big, violet dress. Exactly your size, a lot of fancy lace there and there.
You’re stunned for a hot second, feeling the hot splaying on your cheeks; then, you pay attention to the note on the bottom of the box.
“Hoping to see you in this,S.”
Carefully written, and in the back there’s an invitation to the ball. Organized by no one but him.
You think you might faint.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley#ghost cod#cod mw2#simon riley x you#ghost x you#cod x reader#ghost simon riley#ghost mw 2#ghost fanfic#ghost headcanons
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Hello lovely! Can I please request more cassian x reader as parents? 🥹
Keep Going
Summary - When your daughter's little wings begin to flutter, Cassian realizes it is time for her to learn to fly
Warnings - children (I've been told I need to make that a warning), Azriel being a menace.
A/N - Some short Cassian fluff to break up the smut. I think most of us have probably watched the tiktoks of Cassian teaching his daughter to fly. This is based on that ❤️
"Come on, baby! Keep going!"
Cassian's praise and shouts could be heard as you approached the training rings of the House of Wind. They had drawn you from reading, along with a little thud that had come earlier as well.
"Don't stop! Come on, baby! You're so close!"
"I can't do it, daddy." You could hear your daughter's strain and instantly began to walk faster, tugging the bond only to be ignored as your mate kept his sole focus on her.
"Yes, you can. Come on, princess. Just keep going. I know it hurts, I know you're getting sore. But keep going, baby."
Had you not been helplessly, truly, and madly in love with Cassian, the sight when you got to the top of the House would have sealed his place in your heart forever. Cassian held your daughter's hands in his. He was planted on the ground as her wings beat erratically, lifting her off slightly before she took a little break panting.
"You are so close, baby," Cassian kneeled down to her, holding her round face in his hands. "Do you want me to fly and hold you by your hands while I'm flying? Maybe getting some wind under your wings will help."
You stepped forward, going to your daughter to rub her back. "You're afraid."
She nodded, fat tears rolling down her face. "What if I get up there and my wings stop and I fall and daddy isn't there to save me?"
You shook your head, wiping the tears from her face. "You're so worried about falling that you have not even thought about the possibility of what happens when you fly." She snuggled into you, listening as you comforted her. "There isn't a single world where daddy isn't here to catch you when you fall."
Cassian joined you two on the ground, his large palm in between her wings. "Flying is one of the hardest things you will ever have to learn to do, princess." He tightened her little white ribbon, her little piece of Auntie Nesta, and grabbed her as she switched to being in his arms.
He continued. "We have to get those wings going, though. Think of how fun it will be to go somewhere with daddy, Uncle Rhys, and Uncle Az without someone carrying you. Or flying with Nyx." She hummed and buried herself into his neck, breathing deeply to surround herself with that scent of fire and freshly fallen snow that had been her comfort for years now.
You looked at Cassian, silent communication passing between the two of you. "You know baby, the sooner you fly, the sooner you get to go to Velaris behind mommy's back and get ice cream with daddy."
They both stiffened, Cassian's eyes comically wide as you cocked your head at him. Your daughter started a bell like giggle. She looked up at your mate, those brown eyes sparkling. "See? Mommy knows everything."
You nodded before mouthing, "everything," to Cassian.
"Maybe you should hold her up supporting her stomach and run with her," a smooth, deep voice came from behind you three. "That's how Nyx learned." Azriel patted your daughter on the head as he walked by, grabbing a few things for a mission and sighed. "Otherwise, I can teach you the way I taught Auntie Fey." The smirk on his face said it all. You thought back to Feyre, bruised and crying from soreness.
"Absolutely not."
"Fuck off, Azriel."
"I wanna learn like Feyfey!"
The three answers all came at the same time, making the shadowsinger smile. "When I get home then."
Cassian glared as he walked off. "You will not be getting taught by Azriel. This is my job."
He picked her up in one smooth motion, following the first advice from the shadowsinger. "Flap those little wings, princess."
A look of determination set across her face, one so similar to Cassian's, as she focused and made her wings move. "Let's do this, daddy."
General taglist:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho
@mariahoedt @rinalouu
#acotar#acotar x reader#send asks#send anons#cassian x reader#cassian x yn#cassian x y/n#cassian x you#cassian#cassian acotar#girldad!cassian x reader#girldad!cassian
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Lancey or Lancey
Symphony Smut Series Day 5: Lancey Foxx's Lancey or Lancey
Lyric: Took her to Paris, she took her panties off
Pairings: Bf!Felix × fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, fingering, p in v sex, overstimulation, lingerie kink, Frottage, implied use of pheromone, dom!felix, sub!reader, protected sex, reader orgasms like 3 times, fluffy at the end (sorta), smut with plot
A/N: sorry for delaying day 5 everyone! I had to release my Christmas headcannons yesterday so I couldn't really post this. But we are back on track! So enjoy my urge for Felix to buy my lingerie, through this stupid oneshot.
THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST
"Felix tell me you're kidding right now."
"Hmm." Your boyfriend put his finger to his temple, pretending to playfully think, "I think.... Nope!"
You could have screamed out loud right there. But instead of damaging your boyfriend's ears, you decided to damage his heart, by filling it with too much love, by hugging him almost to the point of his ribs breaking.
"I love, I love you, and I love you." You kissed every part of his face after every 'i love you'. His freckles, his nose and finally his lips, where you loved to be the most.
"I can't believe we're going to Paris." You slumped back on the bed, not being able to realise that you had Paris tickets clutched in your hands.
"Me neither darling." Felix leaned closer to you, encasing your waist in his arms, his grip sending tingles throughout your body, "Oh and I have a surprise for you."
"Don't tell me you got me lingerie." You rolled your eyes at him playfully, "Lix, for god's sake you already bought me so much crap."
"But this is special, I promise!" Felix scrunched his nose at you, before reaching over and taking out a box from underneath the bed.
"You hid it under my bed for how long exactly?" You raised your brow at his weird hiding spot, "Wait so this is why you were searching for your missing sock under my bed!?"
Felix chuckled, his deep voice pulsating throughout your body like electroshock. "You never clean the underside of your bed, so it became the perfect hiding place."
The box he held in his hands was about the size of a shoebox, completely covered in pink ribbons and lace and whatnot. It was pretty, you had to admit, but you were confused about whether Felix was getting you a box or lingerie.
"Open it princess." Felix nudged the box into your arms, "You'll like it, I promise."
You had often gotten lingerie as gifts from your boyfriend, with all of them almost becoming your daily wear. But he had never gotten you something like this.
"Liz is this-" "A lingerie dress? Yes princess, yes it is."
You stared at felix in awe, before snapping your head back to the white cloth in the box. It was pretty, made up of, what you assumed was white silk, with lace ribbons decorating the neckline perfectly.
"But, but, but, this isn't the surprise."
You looked up at Felix with confusion clouding your eyes, which made him chukle at how adorable you were.
"So the surprise is-" Felix said, in a hyperbole voice, "I get to fuck you in these in Paris."
"That's the surprise?" You scoffed, at how underwhelming it was, "We could fuck-"
"And you get no sex until we get to Paris and you're in this beautiful piece of art."
It was as if you got a slap to your face when you heard Felix's words echo through your mind.
"Lee Felix Yongbok." You glared at him, "Tell me you're joking."
"Nope." Felix leaned back against the bedframe, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal his abs, "Let's just say this is payback for making me love no nut November on purpose."
"So what is this then? Death by No Dick December?" You glared at him, as he sealed you tighter in his arms.
"Impatient aren't you?" Felix mumbled into your ear, rubbing his hand against your leggings, "Patience is a good virtue darling."
"Not when your dick is literally rubbing against my pussy."
A week passed and you were finally in the land of romance and love and roses and croissants.
A week with none of your favourite food in your mouth or in your pussy. Felix enjoyed it, the way you were basically on your knees for him, but you weren't a sore loser, so you kept the game up, with the help of your trusty vibrator.
But now, it was the real game.
After you enjoyed some nice croissants by a quaint cafe and petted a lot of stray cats, you headed back to your hotel, side-eyeing Felix all along the way who had not a clue about all the breakdowns you were about to have. Your cunt was itching to the point of destruction, and his dick was the only way of peace.
"Well aren't you gorgeous now?"
The room was more dimly lit than it was when you had entered it, the smell of lavender intoxicating you, courtesy to Felix's new perfume.
"Come 'ere." Felix opened his arms, as you silently walked towards him, the chill breeze from the open window giving you goosebumps. The material of the lingerie was thinner than you had anticipated, basically transparent, but then you reminded yourself that this was what Felix liked the most. And if you obeyed properly like his good princess, he would give you the medicine to your poor cunt.
"Fuck you're like a goddess." Felix's hands traced over your barely clothes thighs, leaving marks with his mouth on your collarbone, making you whimper.
"What do you want princess?" Felix chuckled. Teasing you was always fun, "My cock hmm? Use your big girl words now, come on. We don't wanna disappoint the city of love do we?"
"Ah fuck Lix!" Your voice vibrated off of the walls as felix squeezed the inner walls of your thigh, the desperation of him had been so high that even a tiny squeeze was already getting you wet, "Need your cock please!"
"Good girl."
He chuckles at how needy you sound, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.
You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your panties.
Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your cunt. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit.
He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.
“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.
You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.
His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.
As soon as you seem to be coming down, Felix lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how the weeks without pussy had been paying off. He was getting better.
He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.
Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.
“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”
“Lix” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”
He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.
He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.
“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.
You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.
He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.
"Well-" Felix's deep voiced chuckle vibrates throughout your body, "That was fucking good."
"First of all-" you sleepily say, "Fuck you for depriving me of all that good dick for a week." You glare at him, "Second of all, I want more lingerie like this."
"Whatever you say darling." Felix shrugs his shoulders, supporting you a little straighter against his figure, "You know Paris does have really good lingerie."
Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged the list is open!
#felix#lee felix#lee felix yongbok#lee felix smut#skz#stray kids#skz smut imagines#skz smut fics#stray kids smut#stray kids smut drabble#felix smut#lee felix yongbok smut#lee yongbok smut#lee yongbok#felix hard hours#felix hard thoughts#stray kids hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#skz hard hours#skz hard thoughts#skz felix smut#stray kids felix smut#skz smut drabble#skz smut#stray kids smut imagines#felix smut fics#felix smut drabbles#stray kids felix#skz felix#felix × reader
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I saw the message about the Ribbon Seal Y/N and just wanted to propose this; since Ribbon Seals are carnivorous but relatively small (only like 5 to 6 feet long) imagine being a fiesty seal reader growling and baring your teeth in an attempt to intimidate Orca!Eclipse but it just. totally backfires. Those teeth are so small and cute, just like the furry seal body; Eclipse is getting cuteness aggression. The more posturing you do the more he's smitten with this tiny-but-mighty sweetheart to be. I made a skull/size between the species for comparison!
Oh my gosh!!!!
Just to clarify, Eclipse is not 1 to 1 in size to a real orca. He's large, yes, but relative to the reader! But Y/N still being only 5-6 feet in length as a siren with a ribbon seal tail compared to siren Eclipse is *chef's kiss* perfection!
Oh, he would swoon and fawn over how adorable you are! How can he not snatch you up and give you a great big squeeze? Your little teeth are very pointy and very pretty! You're just the cutest thing he's ever seen, not paying too much mind to your angry defiance and how much (though how sweetly) you growl hehe
#the size difference just wow#yeah not that big of a size difference between y/n and eclipse but he definitely loves hugging you like you're his personal doll#ribbon seal!reader#orca!eclipse#apex polarity#poppywine
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to bask in your warmth
𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:
“I’m not the only one who would look lovely with ribbons around my wrists, you know.” Your eyes flick up to his own as you wet your lips at the thought—dear, sweet Astarion writhing below you with the same rosebud hue tracing his wrists to keep him pinned as he is able to do nothing but accept the love and pleasure you have to give him.
“Something you think about often, hm?” His lips quirk up in amusement, his eyes finding your own as he basks in the heat from your warm body tucked into his side, thinly veiled interest present in his gaze.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/F!Reader
𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, fluff, slice of life!
𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 7.5k
𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: soft fem dom, light bdsm, switch Astarion, use of restraints, body worship, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, lingerie, face sitting, anal play, anal fingering, double penetration (in two holes), p in v sex, multiple orgasms
MDNI, 18+ CONTENT
𝑎/𝑛: hello hello, this is likely the filthiest thing I've written thus far? idk, but it sure feels like it! this is technically a sequel to another fic of mine (so that i may dream tonight), but you don't have to read it first to enjoy this! I always attempt to write these so that they can be enjoyed individually or as a little series <3. I hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts! I appreciate and love you, dear readers!!!
ao3 here
masterlist
You peek out from between the small breaks in the painted wood of the partition screen, eyes on Astarion where he lays upon your shared bed—looking quite comfortable, all things considered.
“Darling, how much longer are you going to make me wait?” You can see the mercurial impatience building in the slight downwards tilt of his brows as they move low across expressive crimson eyes, his breath leaving him in an impatient huff as he shifts the tiniest bit on the blankets.
“Patience, Astarion.” You adjust the slip once more around your figure, making sure the rosy silk sits perfectly across your curves, the soft lace falling just above where the matching lace garter rests high on your thigh.
It was a delicate thing, the slip. Astarion had made it for you some weeks ago, every measurement perfectly tailored to caress your every curve as it falls to the tops of your thighs, delicate lace trim tickling the skin there with every move you make.
What lay underneath the dainty slip, though, was a surprise. You had tried so very hard to find the perfect set of lingerie, making sure the color matched as closely as possible to the same pink of the ribbon that had once wrapped around your wrists in bows, keeping you bound in place to the bed.
The words come back to you in a warm rush, the memory still fresh in your mind despite the weeks that have since passed.
Still in that delicate haze of your earlier lovemaking, the pink ribbons no longer tied to the bed but resting on the night table instead, your head laying on Astarion’s chest as your body is pressed in close to his own.
“I’m not the only one who would look lovely with ribbons around my wrists, you know.” Your eyes flick up to his own as you wet your lips at the thought—dear, sweet Astarion writhing below you with the same rosebud hue tracing his wrists to keep him pinned as he is able to do nothing but accept the love and pleasure you have to give him.
“Something you think about often, hm?” His lips quirk up in amusement, his eyes finding your own as he basks in the heat from your warm body tucked into his side, thinly veiled interest present in his gaze.
“I think about everything when it comes to you.” You seal the words with a quick kiss to his lips as you brace yourself against his chest.
With one last breath you step out from behind the partition, eyes falling to Astarion as you take in the vision of him tied up with that same perfect, pink ribbon.
He reclines on the bed, the worn softness of the linen blankets brushing across the bare skin of his back as his arms flex against their bonds, testing them from where they extend to either side of the bed, each tied lovingly with perfect, pretty bows around his wrists.
Astarion looks divine like this, his lean figure perfect as he lays there naked, his skin ethereal within the dim light of the room as the finest of silver moonbeams shine onto the floorboards.
“Like what you see?” His eyes rove your own figure as you speak to him from across the room, a hunger evident in his eyes as he looks you from head to toe, taking in the fine silk and lace of the slip that covers precious little of your form.
“How could I not?” You smile with painted lips at Astarion’s reply as you make your way to the bed with slow steps, letting Astarion’s eyes capture the sway of your hips as you near the foot of the bed.
With a smooth motion you glide onto the luxurious linens, moving on hands and knees as you kneel over Astarion’s form, the silken slip brushing over his uncovered skin as you slowly move over him.
You feel more than see the subtle twitch of him as the silk flutters against his length as you hover just above him, careful not to let your body touch his own as you make your way over him.
“If you can be good, maybe I’ll even let you see what I have on underneath.” You keep your words light, playful even as you give him a wink; you have no real intention of keeping much of anything from him tonight and you certainly have no punishments planned.
No, you would worship him as much as he was willing to let you. Prove your love and appreciation of his trust to allow you to bestow this pleasure upon him.
There’s another telltale twitch of his growing erection as you finally make your way to where his head lays on the pillow, your hands pressing into the bed on either side of silver curls as you hover there, looking down on him.
“I have to say, Astarion, you look so very beautiful like this.” You lean your head down towards his own, the tip of your nose brushing down the side of his cheek as you make to whisper into his ear, lips brushing absentmindedly against his skin, a small shiver making its way through his body at the tiniest semblance of touch from you.
It was tantalizing to be in control like this, to have Astarion tied up beneath you and at the mercy of your whims and desires. But it was a careful balance, one you were so deeply and intimately aware of—the many implications of Astarion’s trust in you, that you would never stray too far beyond his comfort level; the fact that Astarion has even given you a chance to have such power over him at all may be the most important detail of it all.
You lower your body down to rest on his, silk against cool skin, as your hands move to run through his hair in soothing motions. Astarion’s eyes search the features of your face, waiting for further instruction as his legs widen beneath you, welcoming your weight between them as your stomach presses against his own.
“Astarion,” His name on your lips captures his attention, his eyes snapping to your own. “You have to promise me that you will use your word if you need to.”
You watch as the weight of your words fall upon him, Astarion nodding in agreement as a familiar affection fills his gaze.
“You have my word, dearest.” Astarion gives you the smallest of smiles as you lean down to press your lips to his own, sealing the promise with a kiss.
Astarion’s lips press back against your own, your lashes fluttering shut as you bask in the feeling of it. You lean back only slightly, just enough for you to lick at his bottom lip, asking for entry. Astarion obliges, opening his mouth to you as you meet him, your tongue swirling with his own as you deepen the kiss.
With the slightest motion you move back to take his bottom lip between your teeth, nipping it lightly, enjoying the small sound he makes in response as you begin to move your lips down his elegant jaw, your kisses hot against the coolness of his skin as you head towards the line of his neck.
You settle back onto your knees, your weight pushing off of him as you nip at the skin below his ear, tiny little bites that serve to only make him shiver in response to the feeling of your teeth against his skin.
With the tiniest of kisses, you make your way up the shell of his ear, careful to keep the touch light. He’s always so sensitive here, the delicate point an easy target for you to begin your little plan of worship.
You kiss up to the very tip, the warmth of your breath and the soothing touch of your lips has Astarion letting out a gasp underneath you as his body tenses, the ribbons pulling taut as you give him another soft nip. Astarion groans as you soothe a kiss to the bite, and you don’t have to look back to tell how hard he must be already, even with such little touch from you.
He always was so very susceptible to your attentions, once he let you in, once he trusted you enough to allow you to shower him with the affection.
You smile against his skin as you kiss down the other side of his ear and onto his cheek once more before slowly moving lower, mouth dragging down his neck and onto the sharp collarbones of his chest.
“Your skin is so pretty, Astarion. So soft and smooth…” You nuzzle into the side of his throat as you bring your hands up to caress over the planes of chest, brushing over hardened nipples that have nothing to do with the cool air of the room.
Astarion gives you another one of those delectable little gasps as your lips continue downward, strands of your hair brushing against his bare skin as the heat from your mouth makes its way to his nipple.
“Everything about you is pretty though, isn’t it?” You look up at him under lowered lashes, letting your head rest on his chest as you pause your ministrations.
“Well, I certainly like to think so.” Astarion says with his usual air of haughtiness, despite the hardness of his cock bobbing beneath you and those elegant hands of his still bound in pink ribbons.
“I’m quite tempted to agree.” You flash a devilish smile at him for only a moment, before turning your head back down to the open expanse of his chest to lick at his nipple with a flattened tongue.
Astarion moans at the unexpected sensation, his eyes closing in pleasure as his head tilts back against the pillow, the line of his throat exposed. The sight of him brings a flush to your cheeks that runs to the tip of your ears, your own arousal heightening at the obvious bliss that decorates his features.
You bury your face against his chest, kissing and nipping and licking at him while your other hand comes up to give his other nipple attention as well, just as you know he would to you.
Astarion’s sharp little gasps and moans, the bucking of his hips into the space between where yours still rest elevated above him, the sight of his hands flexing against the ribbon binding his wrists is all such a sight—one that you burn into your mind, a memory to be kept and held for the rest of your life.
It was such a gift, to be able to give him the same attentions he so frequently showers your body with, to worship him in such a way beyond your usual loving and affectionate words or gestures. The feeling of the trust that you know stretches both ways giving you a high that is indescribable.
Lips move, kissing their way to his other nipple to give it the same attentions, your hand tracing teasing lines along his abdomen—lower, but certainly not as low as Astarion would like.
His back arches off the bed ever so slightly, your fingers teasing on his hip as your mouth continues its work, his noises only fuel to the fire building between your thighs.
You move down his body with aching slowness, marking the lines of his body with kisses pressed to his skin—the expanse of his chest, the soft lines of definition of his muscles, the dip of hips as you make your way to a destination that waits eagerly for your attention.
You kneel between his open legs, careful to avoid any touch on his erection as it rests against his stomach, bobbing as your lips move closer and closer, your hands on his hips gently pushing him into the mattress.
With a motion to the side you avoid where he wants you most as your lips press against the skin of his hips instead, so near and yet so very far from where his cock waits for the promise of your warm mouth.
Kisses and licks press on either side of his body as you continue, reveling in the precome that leaks from the tip of him and the soft cries from his throat. You had always assumed Astarion would be vocalwhen being denied, though you never quite thought he would be so wordless and without clever retorts, instead reduced to these small little sounds.
“Ah! darling…” Astarion’s voice is tight with unfulfilled pleasure as your tongue licks close and his hips buck against your grip on them, the sound of the slightest bit of desperation in his words enough to have you looking up.
Astarion’s head leans up off the pillow as he watches you, panting breaths escaping from his lips as he pulls the bonds tight, the expression on his face one of open yearning.
The silk of your slip brushes against his erection as you move back up his body with the intent of mercy, the smoothness of the fabric providing the slightest bit of friction that has Astarion bucking into your stomach in an attempt at relief, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as you feel tiny dots of his precome decorate your slip in a line.
“I thought I told you to be patient.” You flick his nipple lightly in response, his hips jumping into your own once more. With one last kiss to his chest, you rise atop him, your knees on either side of his hips, your bodies no long touching.
“Since you’ve been so good, I’ll give you a little treat. What do you say, love?” You run your hands down your front with little hurry, Astarion’s eyes following your every move as he watches your fingers finally curl around the lacy hem.
Astarion looks positively wrecked as you look down on him, the duality of being touched and kissed and licked but never where he so desperately needs feels almost cruel, his length painfully hard despite it never once being touched.
With unhurried hands you drag the slip up your figure, baring yourself to him inch by inch as he watches before you move to pull it over your head and throw it onto the ground beside the bed where it pools onto the floorboards to be forgotten.
Astarion’s eyes make their way up and down your figure, taking in the flush of your nipples from underneath the light colored lace that ensconces your breasts, pushing them up just so.
You’re unable to help yourself as you lean over his torso, hand caressing his jaw as you press a firm kiss his plush lips, nipping at his bottom lip once before pulling back upright.
“You’ve truly outdone yourself, darling.” You let Astarion’s praise wash over you, smile on your lips as you brush your hands over your breasts, fingers teasing above the lace as you luxuriate in the open wanting on his features below you.
What Astarion is not quite so prepared for, though, is your panties.
He doesn’t even notice them at first, simply passing the lacy undergarment over with his eyes once before returning up where your breasts sit high. The thought that your usually observant lover fails to recognize the fact that the small triangle of lace only conceals the very front of you while leaving your entire center bare only serves to send your confidence soaring ever higher.
The underwear—if you could honestly even call them such a thing—was simply that tiny bit of pink lace at the front, the rest nothing but the satin of the waistband and then two matching strips curving around the plumpness of your rear, leaving the entirety of your core and behind exposed to the cool air of the room.
It’s not until his gaze makes its way further down your body once more, claret eyes caressing your skin without touch as he takes his time to truly admire, that he sees the slightest bit of your center peeking out from under where the lace ends, his eyes zeroing in on the space between your hips as you widen your knees to better clue him in.
“Dearest, are those…” His words run off as you smirk, letting a hand run down your body and over the front of the ouverts to run lower instead, fingers brushing over soft lace before disappearing to run through your uncovered slit.
“Open at the bottom? Yes, they are.” Astarion’s mouth dries out as those fingers of yours come back up, hints of dewy wet glistening on your fingertips. His eyes watch with interest as you extend your hand towards his mouth and you delicately press damp fingertips against his lips.
He opens his mouth, pink tongue darting out to lick greedily at your slick on them. His tongue on your fingers has heat surging down into your empty cunt, and you can feel the heat blooming on your cheeks, certain that your arousal must show on your face with the way Astarion’s lips curve up into a smirk.
“I can do so much more with my tongue if you’ll let me have a real taste, my love.” He speaks the words with your fingers still touching his lips, pressing a small kiss to the delicate pads of them.
“A taste of what, exactly?” You tilt your head in mock confusion as you purse your lips, moving your hand from his mouth to instead trace the curve of his jaw.
“Oh, I think you know, darling.” His smile is pure sin as his lashes lower over half-lidded eyes, the picture of seduction as he lays beneath you, ready and waiting.
“I’m not so sure I do. I think I need you to spell it out for me.” You move your knees further up his torso despite your playing coy, your empty core all the closer to his waiting mouth as you feel curls of anticipation at the mere thought.
“What I want, dear mistress, is for you to move up here and put that sweet cunt of yours on my face.”
Astarion’s head leans up, mouth moving towards your thigh as his teeth grab at the garter resting there, pulling at it and letting it go. It snaps back against your skin, the slight sting making you jump as you narrow your eyes down at him.
His smile is nothing but deviant in response.
“And here I thought I was the one in charge.” You raise a brow at him, a corner of your lips quirking up in amusement.
“Are you honestly saying that this wasn’t part of your plan when you picked those out? Darling.” Disbelief colors his every word as his own eyebrows raise in skepticism.
“A mistress never tells.” You move to kneel above where Astarion lays his head on the crochet-trimmed pillow, steadying yourself on the carved wood headboard beneath your fingers as you widen your knees around his face.
His head moves to the side, pressing light kisses against the skin of your upper thigh, though his eyes don’t leave your exposed core, the lace stopping right before the place your slit opens to him. He can see everything like this, your center spread above his face, all soft and wet for him.
“Are you sure, Astarion?” You look down at him, waiting for his confirmation before you lower yourself down despite the hypnotic kisses he places along your thighs.
“There could be no finer honor than that of your sweetness upon my lips. So do it.” Such dramatics from a man currently trussed up with nowhere to go. There’s an open ardor to his words despite his levity that has you lowering yourself down upon waiting lips with little ceremony, eager to give both of you a reward.
The first touch of his tongue on you is euphoric, your eyes rolling back as he laps at your waiting wetness in time with the soft moans that fall from your lips.
Astarion’s tongue dives deep into your center as he whorls around your walls before he exits to lick up to your clit instead. He continues like this, a little pattern designed to drive you wild as he alternates between deep passes inside your cunt to sweet little licks around your clit, your moans ringing out in time with his mouth on you.
He’s always been so talented at pleasuring you like this, though the feeling is seemingly more intimate with your thighs around his head, body lowered down onto his face as you ride his mouth, his tongue precise as he pleasures you.
He laves at your center, leaving no part of your most intimate place untouched by him as he worships you, just like this. It would be so easy to come for him, to feel him drink up your very essence as it spills from your body with the same vigor he does the blood that runs from your neck.
Your hips jump as he presses against the small pearl between your legs just right, a soft gasp falling from your open lips as tension begins to grow deep in your belly with the pleasure. Astarion moans against your pussy, the sound and vibration of it only bringing you that much closer to the inevitable end.
“Let me hear you, love.” Every word has his lips brushing against your sensitive skin before he flattens his tongue, licking a broad stripe up the center of you before his lips attach to your clit, sucking at it.
You keen above him, letting him hear the soft moans and whines that fall from your lips as your lashes fall shut. It’s an effort to keep yourself up, knuckles turning white as you grasp onto the hard wood in front of you, Astarion’s pace intent to hurtle you towards completion far sooner than you would like, especially when you have other equally delicious ideas in mind as well.
You summon your will as you move your hips up and away from his mouth despite Astarion’s noise of protest, your own impeding orgasm ruined as you catch your breath.
“Oh, hush. I have a better idea.” You smile down at him between inhales and exhales of air, swiveling your body around to face your front towards the foot of the bed instead of the headboard.
“You’re the one in charge, dearest.” Astarion makes a show of licking at his lips in a way that has your flush deepening, the pink of them glistening with your slick.
You lower yourself back down onto his waiting lips, letting his tongue get back to work flicking against your clit as you lean your body down over his own, lace covered breasts pressing into his the hard lines of his stomach as you find yourself face to face with the evidence of his arousal.
Astarion’s ministrations pause as he feels you finally grab his aching cock between your hands, your lips finding the crown and placing a soft kiss, coating your lips in the precome beaded there.
Instinctively his hips buck into your waiting lips, the needy moan that falls from his throat music to your ears as you let your tongue peek out from behind your lips to lap at the head.
Astarion buries his head into the apex of your thighs, tongue lashing at your entrance as you lick down the length of him. Your tongue moves up and down his shaft as he licks into your core, each of your working towards the other’s release.
With plush lips you take him inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you work him in as far as you can without choking, a hand coming up to assist in the act as to stroke the length of him that doesn’t fit inside. Your head bobs up and down, hair soft as it brushes against his thighs.
You pay your own pleasure no mind as you focus on the feeling of his cock in your mouth and on your lips, the taste of him mixing with your saliva with every pass up and down him.
You pop off his cock to lick, following a vein as you reach the base before swirling your tongue back up him again to suck on the head. Your let your weight rest on him as your other hand glides down his body and past where your mouth sucks at him to brush a teasing touch against his balls.
Astarion lets out a deep moan into your core, tongue pushing into your entrance as his nose brushes against your clit as he eats you out. With soft hands you squeeze lightly, cupping them in your palm as you take his length into your mouth once more.
You can see the tension in his thighs as your hands and mouth work in tandem, his mouth losing its cadence on you as you suck and lick and touch, eager to drive him to brink before you lose yourself to the cascade of pleasure heading towards you.
With a hard suck to his cock and a squeeze of the hand cupping his balls you feel Astarion tense beneath you, his hips bucking into your open mouth as his moans fill the air.
Astarion comes on your tongue in spurts of white that you drink down, swallowing his spend as you stroke him through his orgasm. His cum is warm as you swallow, the taste of him familiar as you let his hips thrust into your mouth.
He comes down from his high slowly and you finally lift off his softened cock, tongue licking off the remnants of his climax as you move your body to the side of his and look back at him. His head rests on the pillow, hair strewn as the ribbons sit slack, breaths leaving his chest in pants.
“You didn’t come.” Astarion annunciates each word as he cracks open his eyes to look at where you lounge beside him as you make a show of licking your lips.
“I had other pressing matters to attend to.” The completion of Astarion’s pleasure at your hands far overweighed your own desire, the point driven home by the sight of him, fully spent.
The raise of his brow is all the answer you receive as he recovers from his orgasm, his breathing evening out as he looks you up and down, gaze assessing.
“Would you do me the favor of freeing me, love?” Astarion makes a show of flexing his hands as he looks at you pointedly, tightening the bonds as he asks for release.
“Was this too much, Astarion?” There’s a slight worry in your tone, the pull of your lips the tiniest bit downwards as a crease between your eyebrows forms. You are quick to move over him, fingers grabbing onto the ends of the ribbons as you pull them undone, moving from one hand to the next.
“Oh, far from it, my dear.” Astarion’s hands dart out to connect with your waist, running up and down the skin he has yet to get to touch. His eyes follow his hands as they move up your ribs.
“In fact,” Astarion continues, “I could have taken much, much more. But I find myself wanting something else you have to offer.”
His hands tighten around your waist as he sits up faster than you could have expected, the hands bracketing your sides now giving you a gentle push onto your back as you give a small noise of surprise.
Astarion captures both your wrists in his hands and pins them above your head, newly freed fingers flexing as they circle your wrists. His nose brushes the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent as his tongue flicks out to taste your skin, his body hovering above your own as he pushes you harder into the linens.
He licks a line down the column of your neck that has you arching up into him, the coolness of his lips against the heat of your own skin always a sensation beyond description.
With slow kisses, he works his way across your collarbone and onto the swells of your chest, lips and tongue and nose brushing against the skin there as he caresses his cheek against the lace of a still covered breast.
With the turn of his head, he mouths at a nipple, the lace darkening with the wetness of his tongue against the now pebbled peak.
He buries his face in the cleavage made from the lingerie as he makes his way to your other breast, a hand coming down from where he keeps your wrists above your head to thumb at the damp lace left from his mouth.
“This has been quite the reward.” He licks over your other nipple as his fingers play with its twin, your lashes fluttering shut as your hips jump into his own.
“You deserve it. And more.” You whisper the words on a shaky exhale, Astarion’s cock already hardening once more as you roll your hips into his, pressing against his erection.
“Always such a sweetheart.” He punctuates his words with kisses up the line of your chest as he moves up a hand to cradle your cheek, his lips meeting your own with a tenderness he bestows upon no other being but you.
“On your knees, darling.” You hear that soft command in his voice, the sound of it kindling to the fire deep in your belly as you nod, his hands releasing you as he leans back to give you space to move. You turn over for him, pillowing your head onto the soft covers as you prop your knees up on the bed, spreading your legs for him.
You feel his hands caress the skin of your hips as they move up to your waist, his eyes glued to your dewy center exposed to him like this. He moves his hands up to your shoulders, fingertips briefly digging into the skin there as he rubs away any tension he feels before they trail back down the skin of your spine, fingertips moving vertebrae by vertebrae with impossible slowness.
“You had your fun, and it was absolutely delicious,” Astarion grips your hips as he leans forward to press a burning kiss to the base of your spine before leaning away once more, a hand moving lower to brush through your wet folds. “But now, I want to have mine.”
He gathers your arousal with slow, teasing passes of his fingers, moving up and down your slit from your entrance up to your clit and back again as he wets them in your slick, soft moans leaving your lips from his light touch.
“What a good girl you’ve been, picking out such pretty things and pleasing me so. You are far too good to me.” Two of Astarion’s fingers dip into your entrance, pressing in lightly as they glide in ever so slowly until they are fully seated inside you to the knuckle before pumping them in and out. “But you are an absolute menace in these panties, darling.”
You whine at the sensation, though the pleasure ends far too quickly. Almost as soon as it starts, Astarion’s fingers leave your aching pussy, pulling out of you slowly to trace around your entrance instead as you let out a noise of discontent.
“Patience, sweet thing.” He repeats your earlier words back to you as he collects more of your slick before moving them once more, fingertips brushing past your entrance to somewhere else instead, your wetness leaving a streak of arousal up the cleft of your bottom.
You gasp as the tip of a finger brushes over your other hole, body reflexively tensing as he rubs over the puckered entrance, spreading your slick in a light circle around it. Astarion keeps his touch feather light, small and simple circles that trace around the entrance, not yet working to press his finger inside you.
Even just the barest of touches on such a sensitive area has you swallowing in anticipation, the fire deep inside your body raging as you wait for him to give you more. More pleasure, more pain, more anything.
Astarion leans down towards your raised hips to press kisses to the roundness of a cheek, dragging his lips across your skin closer to the place where his finger keeps up its exploration.
You feel his fingertip move away only to be replaced by the wetness of his mouth. He licks at your hole, his tongue ringing circles around the sensitive entrance as his hands come up to spread your cheeks. The feeling of his tongue pressing onto such a place has you crying out, hips bucking into his face as he continues.
“Fuck, Astarion.” You pant, eyes closed against the pleasure as you breath out the words.
You feel him hum against you in response, tongue pressing harder against you as your moans turn desperate. Astarion’s finger joins back in with his tongue, coming to massage you as his tongue still licks.
He presses a soft kiss before he leans away, his own breathing heavy as he sits up. Your eyes open at the sudden absence to look back at him, taking in the sight of him with pupils blown wide in lust as his cock sits erect between his legs.
Astarion shifts slightly as he reaches over you and into his night table, fingers quickly finding his prize. He sits back upright, a hand brushing soothing fingertips across your lower back as he holds up the small vial of oil between his elegant fingers, the viscous liquid slowing moving from side to side before sliding down the glass.
You watch with bated breath as he uncorks the vial and dribbles the oil over his fingertips before moving it to dribble over your ass. The oil is cold as it drips, bringing a chill over your body as Astarion quickly corks it and lays it aside.
His finger touches you once more, smoothing the oil over your entrance with slow, soft motions as he readies you. His other hand comes to rest upon your hip, thumb brushing soothing lines up and down into your skin as he finally presses the very tip of his finger into your ass.
The feeling is visceral as it sends a spike of heat straight to your empty cunt, your body parting for him easily with the help of the oil, the sensation one so unlike any other.
Astarion leans in, his lips caressing the skin of your lower back, pressing soothing kisses as he slides his finger deeper, drawing a low keen from your lips as the pleasure increases with every inch his finger slides.
His finger finally fills you to the knuckle, Astarion giving it an experimental wiggle inside you. Your moans fill the room, eyes squeezed shut as you exhale, pleasure striking deep inside with that singular motion. With a slow, delicate movement, Astarion begins to pull his finger out, carful to leave the tip still inside, before he pushes back in.
Astarion lets his finger move with slow, even thrusts as your voice echos off the walls of the room with his every motion.
“Does that feel good, darling?” He keeps his voice quiet, but the undercurrent of heat you can hear in his words only adds to your building pleasure.
“Gods, yes.” Your words are a sob as you are unable to help the small noises leaving your lips as his finger moves, Astarion alternating between thrusting his finger and wiggling it deep inside, each action driving you closer and closer to the edge.
Your core squeezes empty as heat builds inside of you, your own denial of your pleasure earlier making it all burn all the hotter as Astarion lets his finger work you up higher and higher, edging you closer to your climax.
“Can you take another?” His words are soft, questioning, as his free hand grabs the vial on the bed, uncorking it with his mouth while he waits for your answer, drizzling more oil onto you.
You nod, unsure of your ability to form coherent words as Astarion has you on the brink like this, so close but still so far from your orgasm. You feel his finger pull out only to be joined by another, and together his two fingers press in to your body. Astarion gives you time to acclimate, working in slowly and stopping to give you time, only moving deeper once he is confident your body is ready.
“Are you alright, love?” Your heart could melt at the affection in his voice as you nod your head to him again, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks as your cheeks flush.
By the time both his digits are seated full inside, you feel lost to the pleasure, the slight stretch of pain only adding to the euphoria as Astarion pumps his fingers softly, your body writhing.
“Should I fuck your pretty ass open with my fingers? Get it all nice and ready for my cock later?” You whine at his words as he scissors his fingers, stretching you ever so slightly more as he says the words.
He can see the evidence of his ministrations, a new gush of arousal leaking from your cunt with filmy strings sticking to your entrance. He leans his head down, pressing his tongue out as he circles your entrance, licking at the slick he sees as his fingers keep working inside your ass.
“I want you to come, dearest, can you do that for me?” His tongue finds its way to your clit, giving it the smallest little licks as he waits for your answer.
“Yes. Please.” The words are barely a whisper, desperate and needy. Astarion obliges you, though, licking faster as his fingers keep up their motions.
Astarion draws your pleasure out masterfully, though it doesn’t take long for you to hit the peak, the flat licks of his tongue on your pearl and fingers pressing deep inside bringing you to your climax within what feels like mere seconds.
You cry out as the heat crescendos, your hips bucking as you finally fall over the precipice of your pleasure, mouth opened in an almost silent moan as white hot heat fills your body.
Astarion licks at your clit softly as you ride the wave of completion, fingers slowing in your ass as you come hard, your knees weakening from the strength and overwhelm of it.
You collapse onto your stomach, a veil of tears lining the edges of your lashes as your body still writhes with the aftershock of your orgasm, Astarion’s fingers pausing as you come down from your high.
“For fuck’s sake, Astarion.” You breathe out on a soft laugh, eyes still closed as you feel the slightest bit of drool on your cheek you failed to notice.
“Oh, I’m not done with you yet.” Astarion’s smirk is incorrigible as you feel his hardened cock pressing at the entrance to your cunt, the fingers still inside you wiggling ever so slightly once more.
“Do you think you can you take my cock, darling?” He leans over your back as he says the words, pressing his chest into your hot skin as he whispers them into your ear softly. The position has his fingers pressing harder, pleasure already beginning to build back up inside you.
“I think you already know the answer to that.” You buck your hips back into his waiting hardness, the tip of him breaching your walls has both of you sighing at the feeling.
“Always so insatiable, my love.” Astarion rocks his hips forward, pressing in slightly as he nips at your ear and his free hand grips your hip harder.
“It’s a wonder where I could have learned it from.” Your words are a gasp as he thrusts into your warmth with little warning, filling you in his entirety in a single stroke.
The fullness of him nestled deep inside your core while his fingers fill your ass is sheer bliss, a sensation that you weren’t sure you would ever get used to no matter how many times you’ve had tastes of this particular type of pleasure.
“So tight, sweet thing.” Astarion groans into your ear, hips still as he lets you acclimate to him. He presses a soothing kiss to your temple as he slowly begins to move his fingers once more.
Every movement of his fingers feels multiplied with Astarion filling both your entrances, your cunt clenching on him as you moan. You move your hips with a subtle motion, wanting as much from him as he would give you.
“Fuck me, then.” You press back into him as much as you can with him inside you, both front and back filled to the brim with him.
“Impertinent little thing.” Astarion tsks as he swats at your bottom playfully, moving his hand up over the curve of your rear to rest on your hip. He squeezes his fingertips into the skin of your hip as he grants you your wish.
Astarion pulls his hips away from yours, his cock dragging against your walls before plunging back in with a hard thrust that has you practically singing before repeating the action once more.
Astarion fucks you hard, hips slapping into the skin of your ass as his fingers piston inside you simultaneously, drawing your pleasure from both entrances as he times his thrusts in and out of your body with near perfect rhythm.
“You look so lovely like this, taking me in both.” Astarion is breathless as he thrusts, his cock hitting deep inside your cunt.
“I know. And I know you love it.” You try to move your hips back into his own, meeting his thrusts as well as you can despite your prone form on the bed. It’s so tight like this, the dual feeling of his fingers and his hardness beyond amazing.
“Oh, I do, darling. I do.” Astarion breathes the words hard as he keeps his pace steady despite the growing pleasure in your belly building up higher once more.
A particularly hard thrust has you both moaning as he leans over, pressing his forehead into your shoulder blade, his panting breaths warm against your own heated skin.
“I want to feel you come around my cock.” The words have you clenching harder around him, body tightening as his fingers continue to move inside your other entrance.
Astarion’s thrusts change their pace ever so slightly, the angle different as he finds the place deep inside that has you gasping in time with his cock. He hits your g-spot each time, the moans that fall from your lips nothing short of euphoric as you near completion once more.
All it takes is one more little quirk of his fingers inside your ass for your thighs to shake and your fingers to grasp at the blankets beneath you in balled fists as your orgasm hits just as hard as the first, eyes squeezed shut in bliss as your hips move against his own as you ride out your pleasure.
The feeling of your body squeezing around his length and fingers has Astation following right after, the warmth of his come filling you deep one you barely notice as his thrusts hit a fever pitch.
Your mind drifts as you come down from the high, Astarion’s thrusts slowing as he too works his way down from his pleasure. He gingerly pulls his fingers from you, moving the digits slowly despite his cock still thrusting lazily into your core, his come leaking from you and onto the linens below.
With one last kiss pressed to the back of your neck Astarion lets his cock leave your warmth, the mess of both of your spends decorating the blankets and your bodies.
Astarion walks over to where the washbasin sits in the corner, grabbing a soft cloth and wetting it before returning to where you still lay face down, catching your breath.
He kneels on the bed beside your body, reaching between your thighs with the cool cloth to clean the mess of cum and oil from your overheated skin.
“I think we made a mess,” You are quick to recover as you move to sit, reclining casually against the bed as Astarion comes to rest beside you.
His fingers dance over your skin in tiny patterns, the tips of them moving across your body as if tracing the lines of the many garments he now spends his time to make.
“Hardly, darling.” Astarion’s fingers dance up towards the clasp holding the lingerie across your chest, flicking it aside with clever feelings as he peels it off your body and throws it. “In fact, I think we can make an even bigger one.”
“Oh? Do tell.” Another raise of your brow, interest piqued.
Astarion climbs over where you lean against the pillows, now his turn to swing a leg across your hips as he straddles your form, eyes looking over the ever so tender skin of your neck as he licks his lips.
“Care for a snack, darling?”
#astarion#astarion bg3#astarion x tav#astarion x f!tav#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x f!reader#astarion x female tav#my writing#if you think you see a typo no you didn't#I’ve been up almost a full 24 hours but the need was too strong to finish and post this to sleep
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A Letter from Your Future Husband (MDNI)
tags: Regency au, Soap x f!reader/OC, masochism, spanking, sexting through letters, dirty talk, guided masturbation, Soap has that dog in him, masturbation, "little" as a diminutive not a descriptor
Summary: Soap has write you letters that you hope never see the light outside of your bedroom. You can only be glad for the assurance that the man ruining you is so set on marrying you as well.
You never open letters around other people. Not since the first one. John Mactavish is seemingly unwilling or unable to be proper around you. His letters are filled with language that makes your head spin, your skin heat, and wetness drip between your legs. You don't know what he's hoping to accomplish with them, he's certainly not wooing you. Maybe he's hoping to speed your ruination, hoping that someone in your house will crack open his wax blue seal and be so scandalized by his words that...
Well they wouldn't break off the engagement you think. Your parents are too eager to be rid of you. Throw you to him sooner, might be the goal. You're not quite as eager to have that happen as Johnny's letters might lead people to believe. He promises a lot in his letters. Promises things you've never heard from other men. Things that make your stomach clench nervously, and it has to be nerves. If it isn't then you really are bound for ruin.
You slip his letter off the entry table and make your way to your room. Your heart pounds in your chest at the seal, the polite ribbon wrapped around the paper. It's pretty, it's always pretty. Pretty in a way that makes the filth inside feel so much worse.
"You haven't written me back hen," You can hear the chastising tuts of Johnny's tongue even through the paper, as you settle on your bed, "S'alright, know your hands are otherwise occupied.
'You are touchin' yourself to my letters, aren't you? God, I hope you are. Stuffing that pretty little pussy with your fingers isn't enough, is it bonnie? You can't hit all those nice spots, can't fill yourself full enough. I know you're droolin' against your pillows thinkin' about my cock. Bet you look so sweet touchin' yourself. You'll have to show me how you do it next time, tell me what you like so I can take over. Shouldn't be touchin' what isn't yours."
You shiver, glad the door is shut as you go to lay against your pillows. Johnny's voice fills your mind, and you're careful not to wrinkle your skirt as you pull it up. Touching what isn't yours... As if any part of you belongs to him, least of which your... Well you're not as crass as he is. That fact doesn't stop you from dragging your fingers over your slit. You hadn't done this before his letters, but one of Johnny's letters had been so explicit in its instructions, you'd had to at least see what the fuss was about. You circle your fingers over your clit, the same way he'd told you to.
"I'll make an exception while I'm away, but I want you to apologize when I'm back. Put yourself on your knees in front of me and say you're sorry for touchin' yourself. Fuck, just the thought of you has me strokin' my cock I'd be nice with punishing you if you apologized. When's the last time you were spanked? I'd put you over my knee, don't even have to ask me to do it. You would though. Bet you would. Could spank your pussy instead if you don't want to beg. Give it a try hen, nice and hard for me, tell me if you like it."
You should feel worse about your lack of hesitation, should feel dirtier knowing he doesn't even have to be here to make you obey. The sharp sting when you slap your cunt makes your hips twitch, makes heat pool in your stomach. You do it again just to feel the way your body squirms. The wet sound of it is tempting, the lingering buzz of pain making your fingers hover hesitantly. You shouldn't like this, but you so desperately do. You wonder what it would feel like to have Johnny do it, his thick fingers rubbing over you, soothing out the pain before pulling back to spank you again.
He'd probably hit you harder than this. The thought makes you drip.
"I said hard, hen."
You have to bite down the noise you make. Twisting against the pillows to breathe as you rub your fingers against your clit, trying to sooth the sting from your last, hard, hit. Fuck it's good, it's good and you hate this man for making it good. You hate that you know exactly what his next words will be, as if he knows you're putty in his hands.
"Good girl. Know that was hard for you, but you did so well for me. Know you squirm, gonna haf'ta hold you down when I do it. You'd like that though, love havin' me pin you and spank you 'til you're comin' on my fingers. Dirty little thing. You want me to clean you up with my tongue after? You think you deserve that?"
You slip your fingers down to circle your entrance, you don't have the patience that Johnny seems to and press two fingers into yourself. You grind your hips down against them, and he's right, they aren't enough. You're not filled the way you want to be, not stretched enough to feel it when you clench on your fingers. They feel good though, the drag of them in and out, pushing tight heat in the pit of your stomach with each stroke.
You wish he could hear you, wish it meant something when you whimper out a soft, "yes." You imagine his tongue licking over your slit, flicking against your clit. He'd tease you, you know he would. Circle your clit without touching it, licking broad swipes over your cunt. His fingers would just press against your entrance, thicker than the ones you desperately pump in and out of yourself. You drop his letter to rub your clit, he's right(he often is) your hands are often too occupied to think about writing him back. It's his fault though.
His fault for making you think of his head between your legs, making you imagine the scratch of his beard on your thighs as your stomach grows hotter and tighter. Your cunt is drooling around your fingers, the circles you draw over your clit sparking pleasure up your spine and making you whine for more. Everything pulls tight too quickly, your cunt clenching desperately on your fingers as it tries to suck them deeper. It's enough to get you over the edge, but not enough to be satisfying.
You pinch your clit, and the pain pushes makes everything break. Your legs shaking as your hips buck against your fingers, desperate, and almost perfect. You work yourself through the high and pull your hands away when it all becomes too much, too sensitive. If Johnny were here...
You fish around for his letter with wet fingers --you're sure he'd do the same-- and scan your eyes over the page, almost too eager to see how badly he wants you.
"My poor pussy, I know I'm mean to 'er. I'll clean you up love, lick you 'til you're sobbin' for me, beggin' to be fucked proper. You're so pretty when you're cryin'. My poor little wife, I'll make sure you get fucked as often as you like; keep you full of my cock, plugged up so all the come I pour into you stays in place. I'm wastin' so much of it just thinkin' about you, but I'll make up for it. You just give me the word.
Write me something nice, hen. Tell me how badly you want my cock, tell me how you touch yourself, tell me you'd sit under my desk and warm my cock in your throat while I work. Tell me you love me and I'll be on your step tomorrow. As stands I'll be there within a week. Miss me.
Johnny"
You truly must be ruined to smile at that. 'Tell me you love me' he says, without telling you the same. Rude man. You hate him(you love him, God, you love him).
#cod x reader#x reader#cod x oc#x oc#john soap mactavish#john soap x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#john mactavish x reader#soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#soap cod#soap mw2#soap x reader#regency au#john mactavish#f!reader#x f!reader#oc: moon#I love mean dom Soap and I'm not sorry#He'd be so good at it look at him and tell me I'm wrong
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Hey, ignore if u arent still doing requests but I've had this storyline in my head for ages and I think ur a perfect writer for tom. Basically, the reader is a muggleborn but she attends Hogwarts and it's like half term where they are all home for a break. Shes either avery or lestranges adopted sibling and it's kinda been kept a secret from tom because.. well yknow shes a muggleborn lol(he knows about her now because her adoptive brother had to explain before bringing Tom over) anyways so hes at every or lestranges house for some reason (you make it up) and shes in her room, her adoptive brother needs something so he asks tom to get it from her desk in her room and they preferably have ���� time. Sorry if it sounds stupid but I've been thinking about this for ages!!😭
𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | tom riddle
tom riddle x f!reader
8,104 words
warnings: smut. sort of angst. also lots of prejudice against muggle-borns. read part two here.
notes: reader is hufflepuff and muggle-born in this one.
summary: every year, the lestranges will hold a christmas party for only the oldest of pure-blood wizarding families. every year you are locked in your room while the party rages downstairs, but everything will change when tom riddle is invited to this year’s party. everything…
The Lestrange name definitely held some irony, considering how strange the family truly was. The Mother sent an owl at lunch, the rolled parchment dropping onto the plate in front of Tiernan Lestrange. On either side of him sat Clarence Avery and Liam Mulciber, who gazed down at the rolled parchment sealed with the Lestrange family crest with sparkling irises.
“Is it for the party, Lestrange?” Avery asked as Lestrange took another bite of his sandwich, dusting his hands off before finally taking a hold of the parchment, untying the ribbon keeping it closed. “More than likely,” he replied as the parchment unraveled, his mother’s handwriting gazing back up at him in inky black cursive letters.
‘To my dearest son,
Tell your friends they’re more than welcome to join us on Christmas Eve for the party. Invite that Head Boy you were writing to me about too. I am most interested to meet him, since you speak so highly of him. Remind the Girl that she is to not speak of the party, I simply cannot have any more of her kind in the house. I will see you at King’s Cross Station, my darling.
With all my love, your mother.’
Of course, the Girl referred to the Hufflepuff sitting all the way across the Great Hall at her own House’s table, her head down as she ate, so as to not catch the attention of her brother or any of his friends. She didn’t choose this family— and if it were her choice, she’d be far away from them— and neither did they.
It was the fault of whomever it was who dropped her onto the Lestranges’ doorstep in the wee hours of the morning when she was only an infant. The Mother had given birth to her son only a few months before, and found the crying baby on her doorstep to be quite a burden.
She asked herself why the Mother and the Father even bothered keeping her, for even before they learned of her blood status, they hated her. Perhaps it was to uphold their reputation— taking in a child who wasn’t theirs? It was the perfect foundation for the story of a kind-hearted pure-blood family— how could the Lestranges let that opportunity go?
Of course, behind closed doors, she was treated less than a family member, some would argue far less than a house elf. She may as well have been a house elf if you ask her. She was treated like how they believed anyone of her kind should be treated— a mudblood deserved to be treated like the rubbish they are, they’d say.
Up until she got her Hogwarts letter, she believed them. She believed she deserved to be treated this way, that she deserved to be put through the torture that came with living with the Lestranges. She believed she had filthy blood, demon blood.
But all of that changed the second she first stepped foot into Hogwarts. Of course, the Lestranges were at first very against letting her attend Hogwarts— mudbloods shouldn’t be taught magic, they’d say— but even they could only take so many letters flying through the fireplace or popping up in the stew before they gave in. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone of her blood status— “you are not to tell anyone of your filthy blood status,” the Father had told her with an accusatory finger in her face. “As far as anyone is concerned, you are pure-blood. So I expect you to act like it.”
Her school robes and supplies were not as grand as Tiernan’s, and she wasn’t allowed an owl or a cat or a toad. But she told herself that she would make do with what she had, and she felt at least a little bit grateful that the Lestranges didn’t give her tattered secondhand, even third-hand clothes, even if she knew it was all for the act.
When the Lestranges found out she had been sorted into Hufflepuff however, oh, it gave them all the more reason to ridicule and torture her back at home. “Of course the mudblood is in the weakest House,” the Mother would mutter beneath her breath as she and her husband read the letter their son had written. “We were fools to think that old ratty hat would sort her into Slytherin.”
Tiernan and his friends— they made certain that her life at Hogwarts was just as bad as her life at home. Of course, Tiernan was the only one who knew the truth about her blood, Avery, Mulciber, and the others just tagged along because they found it funny. They loved calling her names, making her trip in the hallways, pulling pranks such as jinxing her school books so that they may not open no matter how hard she tried.
And still, she didn’t dare stand her ground, for she knew all too well that the Mother and the Father would catch wind of it, and make certain that she’d be on the first train back to King’s Cross Station. So instead, she dealt with Tiernan and his friends, just like she learned to deal with everything else.
But Tom… Tom Riddle was different.
Tiernan Lestrange and his friends worshiped the ground Tom Riddle walked on, and it was no secret. She remembered when she first saw Tom, all the way back in the Sorting Ceremony in her first year at Hogwarts. She remembered hearing his name ‘Riddle, Tom’ being called and she remembered watching as he approached the platform, settling himself down onto the stool.
She remembered the way their eyes met and she swore her knees turned into jelly when she gazed into those dark ravines he had for irises. And she remembered when the Sorting Hat exclaimed “Slytherin!” hardly before it had even touched a hair on his head.
And she remembered how disappointed she felt when she was called up to be sorted, the Sorting Hat put her into Hufflepuff. She wanted to be a Slytherin— she wanted to be wherever Tom Riddle was.
In all her time at Hogwarts, she’d never even spoken a word to Tom Riddle. They’d pass each other in the halls, but thanks to her brother, she’d never been given the chance to even tell him hello. And Tiernan made it clear that she never would.
So life went on, and she got older. She hoped that over time, she’d forget about Tom. But it was hard when he was made prefect, and when he was given the Special Award for Services to the School, and when he was made Head Boy at the beginning of their seventh and final year.
She remembered her fifth year during all the attacks on muggle-borns vividly as if it were only yesterday. She remembered how frightened she was when she realized it was muggle-borns whatever it was was attacking. She remembered the panic she felt when Hogwarts was on the brink of being closed— she couldn’t have that! She belonged at Hogwarts, not out there with the Lestranges where she was treated like vermin.
At least here, she could pretend to be someone she was not.
Of course Tiernan was no help, always taunting her and teasing her that she’d be next. She remembered when she heard that it was Rubeus Hagrid who had freed the muggle-born killing beast, how although she felt that it could not be Hagrid, she felt a sense of relief when he was expelled, when all the attacks had stopped.
And of course it was Tom Riddle who caught him. And of course it just made her admire him more and more.
But she would keep her distance. She’d admire him from afar. She couldn’t begin to imagine the torment Tiernan would put her through if he found out she liked Tom Riddle.
“Yes! Looks like we’re invited, Mulciber,” Avery exclaimed, pumping his fist. Tiernan rolled his eyes at his friends, “you’re invited every year,” he replied, just as Tom entered the Great Hall, and they fell into silence as he approached.
She could see Tom over the tops of the heads of the Hufflepuffs in front of her, and she slowly sat up to get a better look. That was when Tom blinked up and she swore their eyes met, just for a moment, before he settled down into his seat, disappearing behind the heads of the other Hogwarts students. She felt herself flush as she hunched over her plate again, a small smile creeping onto her face.
“My Lord,” Tiernan Lestrange nodded as Tom settled himself between him and Liam Mulciber. Tom nodded in acknowledgement as he placed a few pieces of chicken onto his plate, and Tiernan’s gaze flickered from him to the rolled parchment in his lap. “My mother sent an owl,” he said, and Tom hummed in reply, nodding. Still, he said nothing.
Tiernan shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, and Tom, with his eyes slightly narrower than before, peered up at him, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say. Tiernan turned pink beneath Tom’s stare, and he presented the letter to him, Tom’s dark eyes flicking down to the inky black words on the scroll.
“My family, we… we hold a Christmas party every year,” he said, and when Tom glanced back up at him, he flushed again. “And you would’ve been invited! But it’s only for the oldest pure-blood families, and, well…” Tiernan trailed off when he saw the shadow looming over Tom’s already dark gaze, and Mulciber and Avery shifted in their seats uncomfortably.
Tiernan cleared his throat again, “but I’ve been speaking very highly of you to my mother. She wants you to come,” he said, his lips curving into a smile. Tom pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he stared back up at Lestrange, handing back the parchment. “Yes, I know. I can read, Tiernan,” Tom said sternly, and Tiernan clawed at his knees to prevent himself from trembling.
“Yes… well…” Lestrange said shakily as he rolled back up the parchment, slipping it inside one of his pockets. “…I’d really love it if you come. We’ll all be there— me, Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, Nott— and our families too, so you can meet them all!”
Tom took a bite out of one of the chicken wings on his plate, placing it back down before wringing a napkin between his hands, gesturing towards Lestrange’s robes with his head. “Who is your mother referring to when she speaks of ‘the Girl?’” He asked, and heat crept back into Tiernan’s cheeks until they glowed scarlet. “Oh, you know… my sister…” he muttered, and Tom’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t she refer to her daughter by name?” Tom questioned, turning his body to fully face Tiernan, his interest piqued. “What does she mean by she ‘cannot have any more of her kind in the house?’”
The other boys leaned in to hear what Tiernan would say next, and he knew now that there was no way to get out of this. He’d have to tell the truth not only to his friends, but to his Lord.
“Forgive me, my Lord, for asking this of you,” Tiernan hung his head and muttered lowly towards Tom. “But I must ask that you promise you won’t tell another soul about this. This goes for all of you, too,” he said towards Tom and the rest of their group. Lestrange gazed into each of their eyes and held contact for a moment with each, to make it known that he was serious.
Tom shrugged, “I promise.”
Tiernan inhaled a shaky breath, before finally saying, “she… as you know, is not my sister,” he began. “And she’s not pure-blood, either. She’s a mudblood.”
Mulciber, Avery, and the others all leaned closer and broke into a sea of murmurs, “that sure explains a lot. But a mudblood? In the Lestrange family?” Tom remained silent as he stared at Lestrange, beckoning for him to continue. “Her filthy muggle parents left her on our doorstep after she was born. My mother and father took her in purely out of the goodness of their hearts,” Tiernan sat up and stuck out his chest proudly. “And they kept her, even when they learned where she came from. So you see now why she never comes to the party. Mother always tells guests she’s never home for the party anyways.”
The boys all laughed and ridiculed her while Tom, again, remained silent, staring absentmindedly down at his plate. He wasn’t sure what to think, how to feel. All this time he’d spent watching her, only catching glimpses of her from afar when he felt a gaze on him, watching as she turned away whenever she saw him with Tiernan and the others.
All this time he secretly lusted after her, the outcast of her family, the black sheep of the family. All this time he felt some sort of connection to her, all this time he felt he could relate to her because he, too, felt like an outcast. The outcast of the orphanage he grew up in, the outcast of the Gaunt family, the outcast of his muggle father’s family.
Tom Riddle never belonged anywhere, but he belonged here, at Hogwarts. And he knew she felt the same.
But would things change now that he knew she was muggle-born? Should he feel disgusted with himself now for ever thinking of pursuing her, for ever thinking of taking her in whichever way he pleased? Was it wrong of him to still lust for her, to still think of having his way with her?
Tom was clever but this, this he wasn’t sure of.
“So where has she been hiding during the parties?” Liam Mulciber asked, and Tiernan Lestrange snickered. “Mother and father force her up into her room. Says they’ll punish her accordingly if they hear even the smallest of noises coming from her room,” he replied, the boys erupting into another fit of snickers. Tom was still silent as he stared at his plate— he suddenly didn’t feel like eating.
The next day, she and a group of other Hogwarts students waiting to go home for the holidays gathered at Hogsmeade station, waiting for the arrival of the train. She snuck glances over to where Tiernan and his friends stood together, Tom in the middle of them all. She flushed and turned away when his head began to turn, and she moved to hide herself behind a few of her fellow Hufflepuffs, safe away from Tom Riddle’s view.
The train’s whistle echoed as the train emerged, slowing down to a stop before them. She dared gaze back over to where Tiernan stood with his friends as she waited for the doors to open, and when she did, Tom was no longer looking her way. She let herself stare for a little moment longer before she felt someone tap her shoulder, and blinked at the Hufflepuff girl in front of her with brown skin and shoulder length black hair she recognized as Clara Wingrave.
“Are you coming?” Clara asked, a furrow in her brow. She blinked and nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat back down. “Yes, sorry Clara,” she mumbled as she followed the Hufflepuff girl onto the train, sliding into the seat opposite the one Clara chose. She sighed as she settled herself into the seat just as footsteps thundered through the train, and she hardly had any time to register what was happening before their compartment door slid open, revealing none other than Tiernan Lestrange, Clarence Avery, and Liam Mulciber, Tom and the other three boys nowhere in sight.
Clara narrowed her eyes at their intruders, “hey, go find your own—“
“Shut it,” Mulciber hissed towards her. “No one allowed you to speak.”
Clara’s glare hardened as Tiernan leaned down to block his adopted sister’s view, his lips curving into a cheshire grin. Her hands balled into fists, and she suddenly felt the strongest urge to slam them right into that crooked smile of his.
“Mother sent the owl this afternoon,” Tiernan muttered, and he needn’t elaborate, for she was already used to the rules she was forced to follow every year during the annual Lestrange Christmas party. “Oh yeah? And let me guess… I’m not to speak of the party, I’m not to attend the party, I’m to stay up in my room and if I make even the smallest of noises, I’ll be punished accordingly? Is that all?” She asked quietly, so that the girl across from her could not hear.
Tiernan scowled and grabbed for her throat, much to Clara’s shock as she shrieked, giving her a firm shake. She pressed her lips closed and gazed into Tiernan’s dark umber eyes as they gleamed with mischief. “You dare give me attitude?” He tsked. “You just wait. I’ll tell mother and father about this and—“
“—Tiernan? Won’t you leave her alone for Merlin’s sake, the train is about to leave.”
She along with Clara, Tiernan, and his friends snapped their heads to the open compartment door where the Head Boy now stood, a furrow in his brow. He narrowed his eyes every so slightly, and he looked irritated. She flushed when she saw him and turned away as Tiernan released her, dusting off his clothes. She glimpsed up at him as he turned to leave, not without making sure to flash a dirty look her way over his shoulder before he slid the compartment door closed behind him.
“What the hell was that about?” Clara gasped and shook her head in disbelief. “I know it is common for siblings to fight, but that was just absurd.”
She shook her head as she shifted in her seat, gazing out the window as the train began to move, and Hogsmeade station grew further and further away until it disappeared altogether.
“He’s not my brother.”
The train ride back to King’s Cross Station seemed to go by quicker than usual, much to her dismay. She wished she could stay on the train forever rather than have to go back to living with the Lestranges, and wished that she had an invisibility cloak so that she could hide and be on her way back to Hogwarts within the hour.
But, since she didn’t, she sighed as she collected her bag with her few belongings and exited her compartment, stepping out of the train and onto Platform 9¾, where her eyes immediately fell upon the Mother and the Father where they stood, eyes narrowed when they fell upon their muggle-born adopted daughter. She huffed as she made her way over to them, standing beside the Mother with a considerable amount of distance between them.
“Where is my son?” The Mother asked through gritted teeth, and she shrugged her shoulders. “He and his friends should be getting off soon,” she replied, not daring to turn to look at the Mother. Sure enough, almost as soon as she finished saying it, there stepped out Tiernan and his friends, Tom Riddle close behind. The other boys left to greet their own parents, but Tiernan and Tom made their way over to where she stood beside the Lestranges, and she flushed.
Why was Tom coming over here?
“Tiernan,” the Mother smiled, drawing her son into her chest for a hug. “And you must be… Tom, is that right? Hogwarts’ Head Boy?”
She glanced over to where Tom stood, a charming smile plastered his face and she could feel heat creep back up her neck. She turned away from him before he could catch her staring.
“It is nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Lestrange,” Tom greeted them, shaking Mr Lestrange’s hand and giving the top of Mrs Lestrange’s a polite kiss. “Oh!” Mrs Lestrange giggled. “I like this one. The manners!”
Tom flashed his best smile but snuck a glimpse over to where the Lestranges adopted daughter stood, her arms crossed over herself as she looked anywhere but at him. He eyed her up and down just as Mrs Lestrange clutched either of his forearms, and he was forced to tear his attention away from the girl behind her.
“Tiernan here tells me you’re from the orphanage?” Mrs Lestrange asked and Tiernan felt like shriveling away beside Tom. Tom only nodded in reply to which Mrs Lestrange tutted, “how about this? You’re welcome to come and stay with us for the holidays. We’d be delighted to have you.”
She froze at this and her lips fell agape with the intent to protest, but nothing came out. She knew nothing she said would matter anyways, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle being around Tom for the entirety of the holidays. She’d been comfortable leaving him at a safe distance away from her at school, but now she’d have to deal with seeing him at the Lestranges? She simply wouldn’t be able to trust herself being around him for so long.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Tom beamed as Mrs Lestrange fussed over him, leading him away from the platform, and she, the Father, and Tiernan followed close behind. Tiernan made a point of ramming his shoulder into her every once in a while, and it took everything within her to control herself, to not shout or push him away. The Father saw this was happening but did nothing to stop it.
It wasn’t longer before they finally entered the Leaky Cauldron and made their way to the fireplace, and they each grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. The Father went first, then Mrs Lestrange, and Tiernan before it was down to her and Tom. It occurred to her that this was the first time they had ever been alone together, and she forced herself to look away as he stepped into the fireplace.
Tom was no stranger to her shy nature. He tilted his head to try and get a better look at her, watching as she peeked over at him only to find he was staring, and looked away again. He smiled, exclaimed “Lestrange Manor!” and he was gone, leaving her alone.
Soon, she too was back in the Lestrange Manor, and she nearly ran into Tom where he stood just before the fireplace. Her palms instinctively fell onto his back to find her balance, and oh, how she felt she’d explode where she stood.
It was the first time she had ever touched Tom, and she truly did not expect him to be so warm. Tom glanced back over his shoulder when he felt her hands on him and swiftly stepped out of her way, feeling her touch lingering on his back where she had touched him. Something ignited within him at that touch, and every doubt he had about still wanting to pursue her seemed to fray away.
He wanted her.
“Welcome to our home!” The Mother exclaimed with a smile as she dusted off the shoulder of Tom’s coat where some ash had fallen, letting her palms soothe back down all the way to his elbows. “Tiernan will show you where you will be staying. Feel free to make yourself at home.”
She began to follow Tiernan and Tom as they headed for the staircase leading to the next level, but just before she could, the Mother grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her backwards to face her and the Father. She scowled down at her adopted daughter as soon as she made certain Tom was out of sight and leaned down until they were eye level.
“Listen to me, girl, and listen to me good,” the Mother said lowly. “You are to be on your best behavior while we have a guest in the home. You are to stay up in your room for the holidays except for meals, do you understand me, girl?”
She blinked— normally, she’d hate the fact that she had to stay up in her room all hours of the day, but instead, she felt relief surge through her. At least she wouldn’t have to see Tom, at least she wouldn’t make a fool out of herself in front of him.
“Yes, Madam Lestrange,” she said as the Mother released her elbow, and the Father stepped forward, leaning down to eye level.
“And you mustn’t leave your room under any circumstances during the party tomorrow evening,” he muttered. “If I hear even the smallest of sounds coming from your bedroom, I will punish accordingly and do understand, I will not show mercy.”
She heard this rule every year, but still to this day, the way the Father threatened her sent chills down her spine. “Yes, Mr Lestrange,” she nodded and when the Father waved her off, she walked as fast as she could towards the stairs, practically sprinting up the steps and down the hallway until she finally reached her bedroom.
Tom and the rest of the Lestranges were already in the dining room when she finally bounded down the steps, and he could tell Mr and Mrs Lestrange were using all the self restraint they had within them to not blow up at her, most likely for his sake. He watched as she sat down across the table from where he and Tiernan sat, carefully only placing a small selection of food onto her plate.
He glanced back over to where Mr Lestrange sat on one end of the long dining table before looking over at Mrs Lestrange on the other end. Neither paid her any attention, or showed any intention of speaking to her. She didn’t seem to want to talk either.
“So, Tom, Tiernan tells me you’re exceptional at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Mr Lestrange said, shaking Tom from his thoughts. He forced a small smile as he nodded, wiping his hands on his napkin. “Yes, actually, I wish to become Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher one day.”
She listened as she finished her dinner as quickly as she could, but she didn’t stick around to hear the rest of Tom’s story. She gazed over at the Mother who only nodded that she may be excused before she gathered her plate and hurried off to the kitchen where the Lestranges house elf cleaned.
“Thank you for the food, Gimbel,” she nodded at the house elf who only nodded back as she set her dirty plate on the pile of unclean dishes the house elf had stacked on the countertop. She hurried back upstairs where she shut herself in her room, sighing as she fell onto her mattress.
All she had left to endure was breakfast tomorrow morning, and she’d be free of seeing Tom for the rest of the day. She rested her arm over her eyes, her heart beating against her chest. She couldn’t believe the boy she’s been pining after since her first year is in her house, staying in only a few rooms down from hers. How she wished she could talk to him, to treat him like a guest rather than act like he wasn’t even there at all.
She even, for a moment, wished she was a true member of the Lestrange family, so that she could be treated as an equal.
Tom hardly saw her for breakfast the next morning, for as soon as he and Tiernan had entered the dining room, she was seemingly finished with her food, and once again scurried off towards the kitchen as she did the night before. Tiernan scoffed when he saw this as they took their seats on one side of the long dining table, loading their plates with biscuits and bacon and eggs.
“I apologize for her… strange behavior, my Lord,” Tiernan muttered to home as Tom took a sip of milk. “She’s always like this, you see.” Tom didn’t care to listen to whatever else Tiernan had to say about his adopted sister. Tom had already made up his mind about her, it was how he’d find the chance to talk to her that was the problem.
She seemed to avoid him like the plague, and he knew he more than likely wouldn’t be seeing her at all the rest of the day, since the Lestranges locked her in her room while they hosted their party. Tom was clever, so surely he’d be able to find a way around it?
But as the time for the party to begin approached, he still came up with nothing. He had no excuse for wanting to see her, and with Tiernan practically breathing down his neck, he hadn’t any chance of sneaking away any time soon. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to see her at all when the party began and Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, and Nott all came rushing towards him and Lestrange. He had no space absolutely no space and no time to sneak away.
“Don’t worry,” Lestrange was saying to his friends. “The mudblood is upstairs in her bedroom. Won’t be coming out at all tonight, that one.” The boys snickered as they called her names and made jokes about her, but Tom wasn’t listening. Even though it seemed as if all hope of seeing her tonight was lost, he was still thinking of every possible excuse he could come up with to sneak away.
But fortunately, he wouldn’t have to contemplate for much longer.
“Blast,” Lestrange cursed, feeling around his pockets. Clarence Avery furrowed his eyebrows as he watched his friend, the others soon joining in. “What is it?” Liam Mulciber asked as Lestrange emptied each of his pockets, coming up with nothing. “Left my damn wand in my room,” Lestrange muttered, and Tom perked at this. Lestrange turned to Tom and stepped closer to murmur close to his ear, “forgive me for asking you of this, my Lord, but I simply do not trust the others. Will you go upstairs and retrieve my wand for me? I can’t go upstairs, mother and father said I need to stay down here.”
If Tom was the type, he’d laugh and jump up and down at the request. All day he had been trying to come up with some sort of excuse to slip away from the party, and now he finally had one. He cleared his throat and nodded, “of course,” he said to Lestrange before making his way over towards the staircase, but he did not stop at Tiernan’s bedroom door as he passed.
Instead, he walked a little further down the Lestranges upstairs hallway, stopping at the last door on the left where she was, the black wooden door the only thing separating him from her now. Tom raised a fist to the door and knocked, and for a moment, it was silent on the other side.
Who could possibly be knocking at her door?
She knew it could not be any of the Lestranges, for they would’ve just burst through the door without any respect for her privacy anyways. It couldn’t be Gimbel either, the house elf never came to her room. She grew weary as she closed her book and set it down on the mattress beside her, clearing her throat before murmuring a low, “come in.”
She watched as the handle to her door twisted and it swung open, and when she saw who was standing there in her doorway, she felt as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs. She’d only ever dreamed of Tom Riddle being in her bedroom, but never before did she actually think he’d really come in here.
But there he was. There Tom Riddle stood, closing the door behind him and turning to gaze at her where she sat on her bed, his eyes entrancing as they were dark. Even from across the room, his irises seemed to pull her in like they were magnets and she was metal, and she lost herself further and further into his soul…
“Forgive me,” Tom said, and she blinked. Those were the first words she had ever heard him direct towards her. “I would not usually barge into a lady’s room like this.”
Fire raged across her skin, up her neck, and to her cheeks until they were seared with flame. She suddenly had the strongest urge to open the window, wondering if she had broken into a sweat yet or not.
She blinked again, and the corner of Tom’s lips curved into a soft smile. He knew he already had her wrapped around his finger.
“Your brother thought he left something in here,” he said, gesturing towards her desk against the far wall of the room. “May I?”
She could not think of anything Tiernan could have possibly left in her room, but she wouldn’t dare question Tom, so instead she nodded, and she watched as he strode across the room, opening her desk drawers and sifting through its contents.
Of course, Tom wasn’t searching for anything. But she needn’t know that yet.
“Hm,” Tom hummed, closing the drawers he had opened and turning to face her again, leaning back against the wooden desk. “Perhaps, your brother was mistaken.”
She felt small underneath Tom’s gaze, and she felt as though she could curl herself into a ball right now and shrivel away. But instead she sat still on her bed, unable to speak, unable to move. Tom chuckled and she pinched her bottom lip between her teeth, mentally cursing herself for being so shy. Typical Hufflepuff, she could imagine her adopted brother sneering.
“You know, you should really join the party,” Tom said, hoping to break the ice between them. She soothed the skin of her arms with her palms and rubbed at her elbows, shaking her head. “The Mother and the Father won’t let me attend,” she managed to speak at last, and she gulped down the lump in her throat.
Although Tom already knew the answer, he still tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Why is that?” He asked, and she swallowed again, forcing back down the truth. She dropped her head and shrugged, “because I’m different.”
Tom blinked, and he suddenly felt like he was ten years old again, still living at the orphanage he grew up in. For over ten years, he grew up unlike all the other children, and even at an early and young age, he knew that he was different. It wasn't until Albus Dumbledore came to visit him that he finally understood why he felt this way.
It was different in her case, because at least she knew why she was different. But they were still treated the same, like they were misfits, rejects, outcasts. It was then that he understood the connection he felt towards her with a different meaning, that he first noticed this string tethering them together.
They had both been lost before, but just like he had found himself, she could be found too. Tom could be the one to find her, for he seemed to be the only one who understood her.
Tom’s footsteps permeated her bedroom as he made his way over towards her bed, setting himself down on the mattress beside her. She flinched when she felt the bed dip beneath his weight, and it was then that it occurred to her just how close he was.
They had never ever been this close before.
“Why are you different?” He asked, gazing down at her as she peered up, their eyes meeting closer than they ever have before. For a moment she said nothing, only continued to lose herself further in the dark depths of the treacherous caverns that were his eyes. He studied her— her eyes, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her lips.
It was no secret that she was beautiful, even Tom could admit that. But she was vulnerable, it was clear the moment Tom met her eyes again. And Tom could work with vulnerability.
“Well…” she trailed off, contemplating how much she should tell him. Tom’s fingers grazed against her knee and she trembled, her eyes flicking down to his hand and back up to his face. “You can tell me,” Tom said warmly. “You can tell me anything.”
She blinked. Never before had she heard those words. Nobody has ever wanted to hear her story before, for they all thought they already knew it all by now. She was the child who was left on the Lestranges doorstep as a baby, the child the Lestranges took in to ‘raise as their own’ because they just couldn’t bear giving such a young girl away since they were so kindhearted.
So never had she ever thought she’d be given the chance to tell someone about herself, to let someone read her story. But there was something about Tom, and she felt like she could trust him.
“I’m… I was left on their doorstep as a baby,” she began, and Tom nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I was… I am muggle-born…” she trailed off, wincing as she searched Tom’s face for disgust, but he didn’t even recoil. He only gazed at her with that same patient stare, waiting for her to keep going.
So she did.
“They hate me for it,” she added. “For having dirty blood. I’m not sure why they kept me, I could’ve been a Squib or not even a witch at all for that matter. Thankfully, I got my Hogwarts letter when Tiernan did.” She wrung her hands together in her lap, Tom’s warmth drawing her even closer to him. “It certainly didn’t help that I wasn’t sorted into Slytherin.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat back down again, and Tom let his palm rest on her knee again, his touch warm, like a kiss from the sun itself. She felt relaxed when he touched her, despite how nervous she actually was inside.
“They treat me… so bad,” she whispered. “They treat me like I’m nothing.”
Her voice wavered before it broke, and when it was clear that she wouldn’t be able to continue, the hand that had previously been resting on her knee retreated so that it may instead reach her face. Gently, he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her face up to his, her teary eyes searching his for something, anything she could hold onto. Warmth, comfort, reassurance, hope, anything.
So Tom would tell her what she wanted to hear.
“You are not nothing,” Tom murmured, and her lip quivered the longer she stared at him. “You are somebody. Don’t let them take that feeling away from you.”
She blinked and her brow softened, her vision blurring with tears. She was somebody. Tom Riddle thought she was somebody.
And somehow, that seemed to be all she needed to hear.
A silence ensued and they only gazed deeper into one another’s eyes. With the grip still on her chin, he drew her near and he leaned down to meet her halfway, his lips pressing against hers softly, as tenderly as he could. He felt the way she shuddered under his touch, as if his kiss was a tranquilizer, and she was becoming limp and pliant, all for him.
So he kissed her deeper, he kissed her harder. His tongue was warm in her mouth as she let him reign dominance over her own, her hands shaking as one cupped the side of his face and the other grabbed his bicep.
This was what Tom Riddle had been fantasizing about for years. To have her compliant beneath him, to have her completely under his control. He loved how easy it was, how easy it was to have her. Although he’d admit, this connection he felt towards her was growing, and it was growing at an alarming rate. As he pushed her down onto the mattress and trailed his kisses down from her lips to her jaw, he found that his heart burned, as if she had set it aflame, and this feeling was foreign to him.
He had no idea what this tenderness he felt was, whether he dared call it love or not. For eighteen years, he was under the impression that he couldn’t love, that love simply just wasn’t in the cards for him, and he was completely okay with that.
But this feeling, whatever it was he felt for her, came unexpectedly, and he was unsure whether or not he should embrace it or push it away.
For now, he worked at unbuttoning her blouse as he sucked marks into her neck, his tongue swirling around her collarbone.
She pressed her lips together to contain her noises as Tom slipped her blouse from her shoulders and down her arms, discarding it down onto the floor altogether. He made quick work of her brassiere, his lips previously kissing her collarbone venturing down between the valley of her breasts, sucking marks onto either mounds of flesh.
“T… Tom,” she mewled as he pressed a kiss to one of her nipples, kneading her opposite breast with his palm. He hummed in reply, gazing up at her through hooded lids as he sucked the erect bud, releasing it with a wet pop before doing the same to the other. She squirmed beneath him and squeezed her eyes shut, arching her back up off of the mattress. “T… Tom, I… they will punish me if they hear me.”
Tom smirked against her skin as he released her nipple from his mouth and kissed down her stomach, past her belly button, all the way to the hem of her skirt. He pushed himself up by the elbows as he hooked his fingers over the hem, beginning to tug them down her thighs.
“Then I suggest you stay quiet,” he said simply as he removed her skirt from her ankles, her panties soon joining the sea of clothes on the floor as well.
She sank her teeth down into her bottom lip so hard when he placed a kiss just above her aching clit, she feared she’d draw blood. Tom eyed her through his hooded stare as he teasingly dipped his tongue past her folds, testing the waters. He watched as her face scrunched and she kicked her legs, arching her back at just the simplest of touches.
So eager, he thought.
He soothed her stomach with one of his palms as he pecked her clit, watching the way she trembled and writhed, whining behind closed lips, silent pleading for more. Tears broke past the glossy barrier of her eyes and began to spill down her cheeks like crystals, and he smirked as he pressed his lips down against her heat, sucking her clit as it throbbed and ached to be touched.
She threw her hands down on the mattress on either side of her, her fingernails clawing at the sheets as he flicked his tongue up and down her slit, humming at the taste of her nectar on his tongue. She tried to watch as he lapped up the juices spilling down her folds before flicking his tongue against her bud again, but she couldn’t even hold herself up, much less keep her eyes open for longer than a few seconds.
“P… please,” she mewled quietly as one of her hands ventured down between her legs to grip at his hair, and she ground her hips against his face, eager for more. That was when Tom stopped and pried her hand away from his head, and she blinked up at him through her bleary eyes.
“Do you want to come?” He asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, shouldering it off of him and tossing it to the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes. She gaped at the sight of his chest, but he grabbed her face again and forced her to look at him, squishing her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. “I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question.”
She trembled and felt her walls clench at his words, nodding up and down. “Yes. Yes please,” she whimpered as he tore his hand away from her face to work on his belt, tossing it and his trousers away until he stood before her completely in the nude, in all of his glory.
He was beautiful. And he was already beautiful to begin with but this, she never could have even imagined how he looked underneath the clothes. He wasn’t muscular or built like a statue or even a Quidditch player, but still, his arms and torso were toned, and his cock…
She could feel her patience slipping away the longer he kept her waiting. She watched as he took a hold of his cock and stared down at her, maintaining eye contact as he gave himself a few pumps, his other hand absentmindedly stroking up and down her slick. She bit down onto her lip as she gazed up at him, watching him in anticipation for what was to come next.
Tom leaned back down to her face and captured her lips with his, unable to resist the temptation any longer. He kissed her again and again and again as he slipped inside of her, her moans muffled by his mouth on hers. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dug her fingernails into his skin, etching crescent moons into his flesh. Tom broke their kiss and let his forehead drop onto hers as he rocked his hips into her, slowly at first. One of her hands slithered to cup the back of his neck as tears streamed down the sides of her face, never feeling this good in all her years.
Tom let his gaze fall upon her face again, her eyelids squeezed shut but her face scrunched in pleasure, every once in a while muffling her sounds by pressing her face into his shoulder. He began to thrust harder than before, her legs wrapping around his waist and squeezing, beckoning him further inside of her. So he fucked her harder, and harder and harder and harder as if he intended to break her, to shatter her into a million pieces.
And maybe that was the goal all along.
Never has Tom felt this good, never had he felt so intoxicated by another person, and never did he believe he could be so attached to someone else before. Part of him hated it, part of him wanted to throw it away and stomp on it and set it on fire.
But the other part of him embraced it, another part of him felt powerful as he fucked into her with reckless abandon, powerful having someone underneath his control. He never imagined another person could feel so good, he never imagined someone else could make him feel so infinite. As far as he was concerned, he was doing just fine on his own.
But this was different. This was on a whole other level of power. He felt strong, even when she clenched around him and gushed around his cock, even when he felt himself so close to the edge, so close to releasing himself for another person.
He pushed away from from her and groped her chest with one hand, holding onto her shoulder with the other as he fucked her harder than before, without a care for how much noise they were making. He’d make it up to the Lestranges, he’d go down and tell them it was him making all the noise, it wasn’t like they’d punish him.
For now, he focused on chasing his release, on the way she felt around him, on the way he was so close to climax he could practically taste it. She sobbed beneath him and her lips fell agape with the intent of screaming his name but he clapped his hand around her mouth before she could as he thrusted again and again and again until finally he released, and warmth surged through her.
Tom’s chest heaved and he fell on top of her as she cried, motionless beneath him. Sweat made her skin glisten and tears made her cheeks swollen and sticky, but he found that he admired her all the same.
This warmth in his chest was new, and it was a feeling he couldn’t quite place or put a finger on. But if whatever it was could make him feel like he was on top of the world, like he was the most powerful being on this Earth, like he was infinite…
…then surely he could learn to embrace it.
a/n; oop this is the longest imagine i’ve ever written 🙈 thank you so much for the request anon! i wrote this one up pretty fast because i really liked the idea, it definitely wasn’t stupid! so i hope this is close to what you’ve been imagining!! and feel free to send in more requests if you’d like! i love writing requests!
| 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |
@darkmoviesquotespizza 🥹🫶
#tom riddle x you#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle smut#wizarding world#harry potter fic#harry potter fandom#harry potter imagine#harry potter#tom marvolo riddle
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PRETTY THINGS
RAN HAITANI x f! reader
“if someone were to warn me that this was gonna happen, that you would walk into my life and ruin it, i would still let you.”
cw: cheater! ran, toxic relationship, slight angst, smut, nsfw (mdni), edging, unprotected sex, oral, cheating, degradation, pet names (baby, princess), swearing
word count: 3.2k
a/n: i wrote this in 10hrs and enjoyed it, hope you guys enjoy as much while reading it! © divider: honeypuppixels
He promised. Ran Haitani promised to you that he’d never do it again. Of course you knew it was all a lie, just a pretty little lie that had you believing he was actually going to change for the better.
What a foolish thought.
There he sat in front of you, his collarbones peppered with red and purple bruises, not from fighting. Ran didn’t even bother hiding it from you, the least he could’ve done was to button his white polo all the way up and seal those marks that didn’t belong to you—love bites that never came from you—at least that way it would be out of sight and out of mind. Like it always was.
Your eyes were boring holes onto his lower neck, thinking that staring at them hard enough would make them completely disappear from your thoughts and your sight. But it didn’t. It was still there, freshly painted due to its vibrant colour.
“Was she as good as you thought?” your eyes travelled up to meet his amethyst ones. It held everything but regret. The short-haired man across from you furrowed his brows and he looked at you like you were some kind of freak, like you had just told him the most outrageous fact to ever exist.
Ah, here comes the gaslighting, you thought.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?… Are you going to eat that?” He dropped the topic faster than the speed of light and pointed his fork at the tasty dessert sitting on a plate, untouched. Mont blanc, his favourite.
You closed your eyes, letting out a deep sigh before shaking your head and pushing the small plate towards your boyfriend. “Ran, please. Can we just talk this out? I know you’ve been cheating on me.” Again, you wanted to add but figured it wouldn’t even make a difference.
You already knew what was going to come out of his mouth next, you always did. It was like some kind of routine at this point and you were getting tired. Tired of it all.
“I’m sorry I won’t do it again. You know you’re the only one I love, right?” he replied like he’d been practising the line since this morning. Ran didn’t even bother looking at you, he was too focused on the delicious treat in front of him, eagerly digging into it and savouring every bite.
The first time he said those words to you, you believed it. The second time he did, you swore you were going to leave if he did it again. But you didn’t leave by the third time. Now, you’ve lost count but you couldn’t blame this all on Ran. You had the liberty to leave him and walk out of his life to never return again.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t know if it was because of the failed relationships you’ve had in the past or simply the luxuries of life that Ran was able to provide you. And he provided splendidly. Ran was a man of his words, you tell him you want something? You’ll get it the next day. A big box that sat on your shared bed, topped with a red ribbon.
You always got what you wanted with him. Apparently, this didn’t apply when asking for his faithfulness and for the sake of your relationship.
The first few months were completely different with Ran, he treated you like you were the only thing that mattered to him, he looked at you like you were this precious jewel that he somehow managed to get his hands on.
He didn’t only shower you with gifts but with love as well but things changed as your relationship progressed and you didn’t know what happened to him.
Maybe it was also because Ran knew that you would never leave him. He was too good to be broken up with and you hated it because it was true. No other relationships in the past could provide you with luxuries this well, and they also weren't any different from Ran, you caught your past boyfriends with other women too.
So you thought, if I’m going to be with a cheater then why not a rich one?
At the very least, Ran provided endlessly unlike the other men you had in the past. Plus, the pleasure he gave you was… unforgettable. It was different. It felt like there was actually some kind of love laced with it despite him barely showing you any.
You knew you deserved better than to be treated like someone with no feelings but the hold Ran had on you was tight.
“Do you want Saint Laurent? We can drop by after this.”
You hated yourself for being so easy, you hated how easily he can buy back your love with pretty things and just the simple swipe of his card. It felt dirty and disrespectful to yourself but deep down you liked his materialistic approach. You always had a keen eye for the luxuries and something in you just couldn’t resist them.
Sighing, you looked away and tightly nodded. Ran smirked to himself, once again he was reassured that you weren’t going anywhere any time soon.
“I forgot to tell you, Rindou is hosting at our club tonight, did you want to go? He’d been working on some new mixes so I think he’d appreciate us being there.” he looked at you, waiting for you to meet his gaze but you never did as you nodded again.
—
A sea of bodies moved to the beat of the music blasting from the speakers, strobe lights occasionally illuminating their dancing bodies. The club was packed, as you expected, after all, it was Rindou who was DJing tonight’s club that he and Ran owned. He was good at what he did, that's why people kept coming back for more.
You and Ran sat in one of the VIP booths which had a nice view of Rindou manning the controller up on the stage, he clearly enjoyed what he did and looked so passionate up there. A small smile formed on your lips, you felt proud of him, it felt like watching a little brother grow up.
“I’ll go get us drinks.” Ran leaned close to your ear, speaking louder due to the blasting music. You nodded at your boyfriend, you didn’t need to tell him what you wanted, he already knew.
Your eyes trailed Ran’s tall figure as he strategically made his way through the crowd, some of them greeting him. Clubs weren’t really your thing but your boyfriend was very fond of the nightlife, to the point where he and his younger brother built a club. It was truly amazing.
Your fingers tapped against your lap to the beat of the music as you waited for Ran to come back with your drinks. You were about to pull your phone out from your new Saint Laurent purse to distract yourself from waiting until someone sat next to you, their arm resting on the backrest behind you and legs crossing.
You knew it wasn’t Ran.
“We’ve met before.” It wasn’t a question, it was a fact.
You turned your head to the man sitting dangerously close to you, his slightly long white hair painted in different colours as the lights inside the club bounced around, changing hues, he wore his signature hanafuda earrings which danced with every movement. His lilac eyes held your uninterested gaze, the glint in them showing slight amusement.
“Izana.” you acknowledged the man before turning to the dancing crowd, trying to spot your amethyst haired boyfriend. Where the fuck was he? You thought. Izana was Ran and Rindou’s friend, you figured he was also here to support the younger Haitani.
He tilted his head to the side, earrings swaying with the movement, “Where’s Ran? Did he abandon you?” his voice was laced with amusement and it took all your willpower not to physically roll your eyes at him. “He’s just getting us drinks…” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. You didn’t miss the way Izana glanced down at your chest before meeting your gaze again.
Izana rested his chin on the hand that lay on the backrest, giving you a saccharine smile, “Hmm, then why do I see his arm around a pretty stranger? That doesn’t look like ‘getting drinks’ to me.” he teased, placing his hands in the air for make-shift quotation marks.
He almost laughed at the way your brows shot up and your head snapping back to the crowd to look for your boyfriend. You saw his familiar tall figure and signature streaked purple hair, he was indeed with another woman and was getting too comfortable for your liking. You didn’t like how his hand snaked down her back, resting just above her ass.
The fucking audacity.
You were about to get up from the leather seat, anger and disappointment bubbling up but Izana swiftly grabbed your wrist, “Why don’t you come play with me instead?” you looked back at Ran, who was still conversing with the woman and back at Izana, giving you an expectant gaze.
Sighing, you slowly sat back down, earning a sly smirk from the man next to you. Two can play at this game, you thought. If Ran wasn’t going to learn to drop his bad habits then you would just have to give him the taste of his own medicine.
“Good girl.” Izana purred, the grip on your wrist slid down to your exposed leg and encased your inner thigh, his pinky dangerously close to the apex of your legs. You sucked in a breath at his brazenness, your breaths becoming shallow as he started massaging your inner thigh, “You know… I’ve always been fond of you since your boyfriend introduced us to each other. Sucks that he got to you first.”
Izana’s hand started running up and down your inner thighs, each time getting closer and closer to your panties, “Always wondered how sweet you taste. Ran, that lucky bastard.” he chuckled against your ear, hot breath fanning down the side of your neck, earning a small whine from you.
Before Izana could escalate the situation further, he was stopped by a sudden loud voice, “What the fuck are you doing to my girlfriend?!” Ran angrily set the drinks down on the table in front of you and pulled his friend by the collar. You tried to get Ran to let go of the shorter man but your pleas fell deaf to his ears.
Izana met Ran’s cold stare, challenging it with a smirk on his lips before putting his palms up in defeat. Your boyfriend forcefully shoved Izana away and watched him leave before turning to you, “I leave you for how many minutes and you’re already slutting yourself out for my friends.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, standing up to challenge him but Ran towered over your figure, looking down at you, “And? You were practically eye fucking that woman down there! You told me you wouldn’t do it anymore, Ran.” you pointed at the general direction of where your boyfriend previously was, not backing down despite his looming figure.
“I’m so fucking tired of this! Don’t be surprised if I leave you for Izana.” you rolled your eyes, trying to get past him but your attempt was halted as he grabbed your wrist.
Ran let out an unamused laugh, “You think that’s a threat to me? Baby, I know you’d never leave me. I think we both know that. Izana cannot and never will give you as much as I do.” he stepped closer to you, removing strands of stray hair from your face.
“I’m taking you home. Clearly you’ve forgotten who you belong to.”
—
Ran was merciless.
He put you in several different positions that had your eyes rolling back and lungs screaming out for him but never did he let you cum once. How cruel. The two of you didn’t even reach your shared bedroom before you started sucking each other’s face since Ran was restless on the drive home.
There was an evident tent in his pants as he manoeuvred the car which made him shift uncomfortably against the smooth leather seat. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the other was stuffed into your cunt, his slender fingers already pleasuring you. His middle and ring finger relentlessly thrusting in and out while occasionally rubbing your clit with his palm.
Of course he never let you cum then.
“Ah—fuck! Please, Ran!” your nails scraped against the marbled countertop of your kitchen as you braced yourself with your arms, head bowing forward in pleasure as your boyfriend slipped his long cock inside your cunt once again. Tears were rolling down your cheeks—some already dried—as your body was engulfed in pleasure, again.
He was so mean. Ran fucked you until you were almost cumming before pulling out and changing your position, leaving you clenching around nothing but pure disappointment.
“Hm? Please w-what, baby?” he let out a raspy chuckle against your ear, bare chest pressing against your back. Ran sped up his thrusts which caused your shaky arms give out against the cold marble surface, you were now chest flat against the countertop, arms splayed on either side of you, he used your bent torso as a leverage by circling one hand on your nape and thrusting even deeper.
You swore you could feel him in your throat.
Your moans became higher and louder as Ran pressed his chest to your back again, while reaching for a leg, and propping it on the countertop allowing him to reach even deeper, which you didn’t even know was possible until tonight. He supported your leg with one hand while the other snaked up to your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, his palm making contact with the back of your hand.
You bit your lip, whining at how deep he was inside you, your forehead making contact with the cold marbled surface, you slightly felt the friction on your forehead as you bounced forward due to Ran’s unrelentless pounding but you couldn’t care less, he was giving it to you so good and you were taking it so well.
Skin slapping and squelching sounds filled the whole house along with erotic sounds that Ran pulled from you, the tension hung thick in the air as you were nearing your high.
“Please let me—mhm! Let me cum, please baby.”
Ran breathily laughed at your desperation to cum around his cock but he wasn’t done with you. He was going to break the stubborn walls of your attitude until you knew who you belonged to.
“I’ll think about it. Fuck!” he gasped, burying his face into your hair, occasionally sucking and licking at your nape.
You clenched around his length, vision slowly turning white and head spinning from pleasure, you were about to cum. Ran knew you were close with the way your breaths came out very shallow and with a slight moan at the end, he also didn’t miss the way your cunt gripped his cock like a vice which had him clenching his teeth, eyes slightly rolling back.
With that, Ran pulled out once again, earning a desperate cry from you.
“Who do you belong to? Me or Izana?” he stayed pressed against your back, while he panted the question into your ear, his hot breath making you shiver and giving you goosebumps.
You were too fucked out to even reply. Your mind housed only one thing, to cum. So when he asked you the question, you couldn’t properly get a response out no matter how much you tried. You stayed panting against the countertop, condensation forming from your repeated shallow breaths.
“I asked a question, slut.” he forcefully shoved two fingers into your cunt which earned a whine from you. “Y-you! Only you, Ran.” you sobbed, you just wanted to chase your own high.
Ran positioned his dick to your entrance and entered in one thrust, causing you to curse out loud, “That’s right you belong to me and only me. You wanna know why? Cause I’m the only one who can dick you down this good.” He started thrusting, immediately returning to the previous pace he’d set before, balls harshly slapping against you.
“I know you’d never fucking leave me because you’ll always come back for this expensive dick. Such a whore for my dick and all the things I buy you, huh?” he laughed. You couldn’t even reply to any of his mockery at this point, all you wanted to do was cum so you just nodded at everything he said, giving him occasional ‘yesses’.
Ran’s hips didn’t falter once which immediately brought you close again, a fresh set of tears rolling down your wet cheeks, “Ran, baby, I’m cumming. Please let me cum.” you whispered, voice hoarse and throat sore from all the screams he forcefully pulled from you earlier.
“Fuck! Cum for me princess. Cum for this dick that you love so much.” he groaned against your neck, he was also nearing his climax. The way your walls clenched down on his dick had him rolling his eyes to the back of his head.
You came with a loud moan, hands balling into fists against the marbled surface and toes curling, pleasure engulfing your whole body. A familiar intense sensation shot up your spine which caused your legs to shake and back to arch against Ran’s torso.
Ran bit the skin on your shoulder, cock buried deep inside as his hips stilled right against your ass, he clenched his hands around your hand and the leg that he was holding up, knees almost buckling from the intense pleasure he felt as hot thick ropes of cum shot inside you, making you shiver.
He rode out your orgasm by quickly pulling out and getting on his knees to attach his mouth to your exposed cunt, earning a surprised yelp from you. Ran lapped up all your juices before sucking at your clit, his tongue rubbing tight circles on it which had you practically pushing him away due to overstimulation.
Your boyfriend got up from his knees, legs slightly shaking as he pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around your front and burying his face in your hair, “I love you.” he whispered.
He didn’t mean that.
You knew he didn’t mean those three words. But you closed your eyes and convinced yourself that he did, even if it was just this moment because you still love him despite what he’s openly done.
And it was foolish. You knew that but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him.
Maybe someday you’ll be free from your clouded senses and finally leave Ran but as of now, you remain indifferent.
You were young and blinded by the pretty things he had to offer, things you’ve never seen before and if you were to meet him again for the first time, you’d welcome him with open arms and let him ruin your life.
After all, there wasn’t quite anyone like him.
© mitsuyeaah
#ran haitani#ran smut#ran angst#ran x y/n#ran x you#ran x reader#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revengers angst#tokyo revengers x y/n#tokyo revengers x you#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers#izana kurokawa#rindou haitani
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