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azrielbrainrot · 1 month

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You Take Me Higher

Azriel x Reader

Description: What happens when you run into Azriel at a bar after a long mission?

Warnings: Smut, Public Sex

Word Count: 4220

Notes: This is basically pwp except it's part of a new universe I'm working on. Still, you can read this as a standalone since there's no actual plot here. I just felt like writing mindless smut since "She Laughs Like You" is so plot heavy. Hope you enjoy <3

You normally don't come to Rita's, preferring calmer bars to the loud and suffocating club, it's too much of an assault to your senses. But your friends had invited you enough times for you to accept, not wanting to turn them down again. You hadn't seen them in a while after a particularly long mission outside of the Night Court so it was nice to catch up with them even if it meant dealing with the headache that always follows your trips here.

You'd seen the High Lord and his Inner Circle as soon as you arrived. Their commanding presence allowing your eyes to find them immediately among the rest of the club goers. Upon seeing them, seeing him, you almost regretted coming out, not knowing how to act around him outside of work or your escapades and definitely not wanting to do it in front of so many people.

You decide on a simple wave, nodding discreetly at him and the rest of his family, turning your attention back to your now gushing friends after they wave back politely, making sure you didn't linger on his hazel eyes or the unbuttoned silk shirt, keeping up with the “friendly acquaintances” narrative you've crafted for yourselves. Intending on keeping away from him for the rest of the night.

Azriel seemed to have a different idea as he signaled for you to follow him not even an hour later. And, as soon as you excused yourself from your friends and stepped out into the hallway, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and discreetly guiding you through a back door, to a dark alley behind the popular bar. Your back was against the wall and his lips on yours, hands roaming all over your body, before you could even question him or get a good glimpse at him under the moonlight.

“Azriel,” you whine, trying to get his attention away from your neck, where he has been leaving tiny bites followed by soothing open-mouthed kisses, effectively making you lose your mind. Your hand tightens around his collar at a particularly hard bite, one you're sure left the imprint of his sharp canines on your supple skin.

Just when you were about to call out to him once more, thinking he didn't hear you or was choosing to ignore you, the shadowsinger finally lets out a hum against the column of your throat, at last acknowledging you were trying to talk to him.

You swallow before speaking, trying to get rid of the dryness in your mouth. This backfires as it only makes him use his grip on the back of your neck to pull you even closer to him when he feels the movement, and a moan leaves your mouth before you find your words.

“Someone could see us,” you push through the desire steadily building inside you, trying to be the voice of reason, but you barely get the words out as he keeps nibbling on the soft skin of your throat, making you struggle to hold onto your composure.

When he simply lets out another amused hum before continuing to mark up your neck - to the point you're not sure the glamour magic you can use will be enough for covering them up - you tangle your fingers around the strands of dark hair and pull hard, effectively getting his attention. He grunts softly but allows you to move him away from your neck, and you're finally able to meet his eyes for the first time since he's taken you to the alley.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you take him in. Pupils blown out behind half-lidded eyes, the beautiful hazel almost imperceptible in the midst of all the desire. Dark hair messy, falling into his eyes, and shirt half undone from your tight grip on his collar, the illyrian marks you've grown to love peaking through. He was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as he took advantage of the break you've given him to catch his breath.

The sight almost makes you forget your protests, brain going numb at the raw hunger reflected on his face. He's always been mesmerizing, you've been caught by his beauty ever since the first time you met him all those decades ago, but in moments like these you sometimes have trouble believing he's even real. He's like a God walking among mortals.

Azriel smirks when he notices your eyes glazing over and your scent deepening with arousal, taking the opportunity and leaning down for another, slower but equally passionate kiss. He's been so focused on your neck that he barely even tasted you since you've been outside. He wants to take his time with you for a moment.

Your mouth opens for him immediately, melting into him and releasing the grip you had on his dark locks in favor of grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing to feel all of him while he explores your mouth.

Eventually, you break the dizzying kiss again, your senses catching up to you in between the desire fogging up the air. He lets out a sound suspiciously similar to a whine and leans his forehead against yours, barely moving a breath away from your lips. Resigned to hear what you have to say before being able to continue indulging in your enticing taste.

“We'll get caught if we stay here,” you whisper, lips brushing against his soft ones with every word.

You needed to keep your head leveled, wanting to avoid getting caught in such a risky position by any of the drunk party goers or, even worse, your High Lord. You don't even let yourself wonder what anyone would think if they found you tangled up with someone who is technically your superior, outside of a bar of all places. You'd both be in a lot of trouble.

“I won't let anyone see us,” he assures, and as the words leave his mouth, the dark shadows always accompanying him start swirling around the both of you, as if corroborating the statement. “I can keep us well hidden.” He finishes the sentence with a chaste peck on your lips and moves back to look into your eyes, searching for any doubts and waiting to see your response. Always so respectful even in the throes of pleasure.

You bite your lip, holding his gaze as you realize what he's implying. It's not that you would consider yourself a prude by any means but you've never done anything like this in public. Well, aside from the first night that started it at all, but the circumstances had been completely different then. Drunk fae could stumble out through the back door at any moment here, it could even be one of your friends or his. There was no anonymity in one of the most popular bars in Velaris. This might be the most irresponsible thing you'd do.

And, as much as that's true, you can't deny the heat spreading in your belly at the suggestion, the wetness pooling between your legs.

Azriel is looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you're more than aware of his abilities, of the delicious pleasure he can bring you. He wouldn't lie to you either, if he promised he'd keep you hidden then you know he will follow through with it. You'd trust him with anything.

Without the danger of really getting caught, what's stopping you from letting this irresistible male have his way with you right here? You'd be a fool to deny him and yourself the pleasure.

Your lips are back on his before you can talk yourself out of it, wrapping your arms fully around his neck and letting him take charge. He gets the message quickly, grabbing your waist and pressing you against him, letting you feel his bulge on your stomach, so close to where you need him most, making you both moan into the kiss.

Azriel has never been anything short of passionate when fucking you, always giving it his all and completely drowning you in mind boggling pleasure, but today he's acting differently. His rough touch is hungrier, greedier, as if he couldn't get enough of you no matter how much he took. It feels like he's untamed in his desire and it just so happens that he desires to have you.

His hands move all over your body, soon finding their way under your dress so he can grab at your thighs and pull you closer. You let yours wander down his chest, taking advantage of the mostly unbuttoned shirt, raking your nails softly over the tan skin.

When he abandons your mouth and starts leaving kisses down your jaw, moving to the slowly healing love bites, you notice the shadows have thoroughly covered you when you try to look around, suddenly aware of the loud music.

They're acting as a protective barrier to the outside world, the same way they hide him when he's in enemy territory fulfilling his Spymaster duties. Any last bit of remaining doubt evaporated with the realization. He's never been caught after all.

You let your head fall back against the brick wall, letting out a breath that soon turns into a moan when he bites into your throat hard at the same time his hand finds your folds, teasing the sensitive skin through the drenched fabric of your panties. Feeling him grin against your skin at the reaction he pulled from you.

“Always so ready for me,” he praises and then licks a stripe up your throat, tilting your head further back to reach your chin and connect your mouths once again. You accept him greedily, grinding down on his hand, needing him to touch you properly.

After all the attention he's been giving you and the thought of trying something new with the enticing male, your underwear is absolutely soaked through and you need him to take responsibility for it already. You feel like you'd been doused with hot oil.

Thankfully, he seems to take pity on you, pushing your panties to the side, moving up and down to gather some wetness before slowly starting to circle your clit in time with each lick of his tongue into your mouth.

He's swallowing the desperate sounds trying to escape past your lips and your nails start to dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. You'd be embarrassed at how close you already were if this wasn't Azriel. Each stroke of his scarred thumb against your sensitive clit was taking you higher.

He stops his movements as if sensing how close you were. You were about to protest when he also breaks the kiss, needing him to keep touching you, but hold your tongue when he pushes your dress up to your waist, exposing your soaked underwear to the cold night air. He curses softly as your scent reaches him.

“Keep this up for me, pretty.” His voice was deeper, rough with pleasure and restraint.

Your body catches up to the order before your mind has the chance to, doing as you're told and holding onto your dress so he can have an unobstructed view of you. He breathes out a “good” without ever taking his eyes off the wet fabric clinging to your folds, the praise and need in his eyes only adding fuel to the fire burning inside you.

Azriel gets down on his knees between your legs, now eye level with your cunt as he pulls the panties right to the side, his other hand reaching up, encouraging you to part your thighs so he can feast on the mouth watering sight in front of him.

You can't help the cocky smirk when he lets out a low groan at the sight. You had bought the white skimpy lace in hopes he'd be taking it off, you just couldn't have predicted it would be happening in a dark alley behind this bar.

He looks up at you then, holding your gaze as he leans closer to your heat, licking you from hole to clit, making a show of moaning at the taste. Your hands move to grab at his hair instantly, letting your mouth fall open in a silent moan as he repeats the action.

Your legs threaten to give out when he starts kissing and sucking, not wasting a single drop of your wetness. His thumb circles your hole as he moves to tongue at your clit, swirling it around once, twice before his finger is filling you up.

He throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, diving into your cunt. Soon adding another finger and pumping both into you, getting you ready for him. You start grinding your hips against his face, chasing his fingers, his mouth, the mind numbing feeling he's giving you. He hums into you, the vibrations making you tremble and let out an embarrassing mewl of his name.

You don't know how he can have this effect on you, this male could probably make you melt into a puddle with a simple look. He pulls away with a harsh suck so he can watch his fingers move in and out of you, can watch the wetness almost dripping down your legs and his wrist, replacing his tongue with a scarred thumb, the rough texture so different from his wet tongue, adding an extra bite to the pleasure.

You only notice your head was thrown back against the wall, eyes closed as you chase your orgasm, when you hear him call your name. Eyes moving down to meet his dark ones again.

“I need you to cum on my fingers so I can fuck you, alright?” You nod, half delirious already, even though he's barely gotten his hands on you. You'd do anything he told you to.

It doesn't take long before a familiar knot starts tightening in your lower belly, your walls clenching around his fingers. He starts nibbling at the soft skin of your thigh, leaving marks similar to the ones decorating your neck and chest. Mumbling sweet praises against your skin, words you can't even focus on with the blood rushing through your ears.

Your orgasm catches you by surprise, making you almost lose your balance as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth opens in a silent scream, hands trying to find purchase on his shoulders and his hair, forgetting about the dress and holding onto his instead. His hand abandons your clit so he can grab onto your waist, helping you stay up.

He keeps his fingers moving slowly as you come down from your high, breathing heavily and letting out soft gasps. As your mind clears up, he leans over to leave one last kiss against your heat before taking his fingers out carefully and standing up. Grabbing your chin so he can kiss you once more, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You pull away with a tug on his lip. The orgasm only made you hungrier, you wanted to feel him inside you, stretching you out. “I need your cock, Az.”

“So greedy,” he moans, though you can't figure out if disapprovingly or otherwise. He moves one hand to start unbuttoning his pants so he can free his painful erection at last. You follow the movement, saliva gathering in your mouth involuntarily at the tantalizing sight of his hard, leaking cock. He pumps his fist around it, relieving some of the need. You swallow, moving up to meet his gaze when you feel the intensity of his stare.

He's probably thinking the same thing as you. Remembering how his heavy cock feels against your wet tongue, moving down your throat. You see him grab the base of his cock harder, internally debating if he wants to let you suck him off or fuck you. Your cunt clenches at the thought and apparently the sentiment is clear on your face, the desire written there enough for him to make his decision as he grabs onto the back of your thighs, lifting you up against the wall.

The movement has his cock press right against you, feeling the hardness slide across your sensitive heat. You grab hold of him, not resisting giving him one teasing stroke before guiding him to your hole, needing to have him inside you desperately.

Azriel starts pushing in slowly, stretching you out deliciously. It doesn't matter how many times he fucks you, it will always take you by surprise. You've never had anyone fill you up so well, it almost seemed impossible how he even fit inside you sometimes.

He takes his time filling you up, knowing your body well enough to recognize any twinge of discomfort. In this position, it feels like he can go in deeper, the angle hitting every sensitive spot.

When he finally bottoms out, Azriel presses his whole body against yours, holding you up with his own hips and moving one of his hands over your chest so he can tug the front of the dress down and give your neglected breasts some attention as you adjust to him.

You can feel your walls flutter around his cock, moaning out his name when his mouth finds its way over one of your nipples.

Feeling more than ready for him, you push your hips against him, urging him to finally fuck you. He chokes out a breath, taking a vengeful bite at your nipple, as you move yourself on him, pulling his hips back to thrust back into you, feeling you clench around him. His mouth abandons your chest and meets yours again, hands tightening around your waist as his thrusts' rhythm increases.

It's like all the hunger from before comes back tenfold, his grip most likely bruising your skin as the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other fills the alleyway, your moans rising in tempo with each snap of his hips.

Just as you start losing yourself in the pleasure, one of his hands comes up to cover your mouth. You still let out a muffled whine when he slows down to warn you, whispering in your ear, “The barrier the shadows create isn't completely soundproof. You need to be quiet for me.” You whine in response, making him add, “Alright?”

You almost forgot where you were, and that anyone could walk by you at any moment, but in the heat of desire, the fact only makes you wetter, hips moving of their own accord against him, prompting him to pick up the pace.

“You said we wouldn't get caught.” The last thing you want to focus on right now is to keep quiet when he's making you feel so good.

“We won't,” he moves back to look into your eyes, “Unless you want us to.”

Maybe it's the drinks from before or the way his cock throbs inside you, but you almost wish someone would see you, so they would know you're the one this bewitching male chooses to fuck, you're the one making him cum time and time again, it's your name he moans out in pleasure.

The possessive feeling coils around your heart, a feeling you have no right to have. You have no sort of claim over him after all, but luckily he doesn't let your linger in such thoughts, and starts fucking you hard and fast again, effectively pushing all thoughts out of your mind.

“Gods, you feel fucking perfect,” he growls against your ear, making you let out a long muffled moan. He draws his cock out almost completely before slamming back into you, just so he can hear the gasp that still escapes through his fingers, before picking up the pace again, keeping to shallow thrusts.

His hand moves from your mouth eventually, confident you won't scream too loud, or simply not caring if you do anymore. Both of you get lost in the feeling of each other, tongues battling inside your mouth, your hands roaming all over his shoulders, coming up to tangle in his silky hair. Time almost stands still around the two of you as you hide in his shadows, completely separated from the outside world.

You start getting closer, and knowing you won't be able to hold out for much longer but wanting him to finish with you, you move your trembling hand down his back, finding the raised skin where his wings meet his back and tease them over his shirt.

Illyrians are extremely protective of their wings and you know how sensitive they are, so when he let you touch them around their base for the first time, you were more than flattered even though you can't fully run your fingers over the leathery skin yet, and you're almost sure this isn't the most sensitive spot. You know this is a big step for him, considering all the trust issues you've seen him display, so you don't mind being patient.

Your fingers barely make contact before he's growling and his pace falters, nails digging into your skin. You'd caught him off guard, but he recovers too fast, pushing you even harder into the wall and speeding up, fully intent on making you both fall over the edge now.

“I'm so close,” you breathe out, feeling yourself right at the precipice.

“Me too,” his thrusts turn even more erratic, confirming his words. And with another snap of his hips, you're falling over the edge, moaning out his name with no care for who hears it.

He follows you soon after, thrusting deeper and grinding into you, pumping you full of his cum as the both of you ride out the mind numbing orgasms. You don't remember the last time you came so hard, every nerve on your body is alive with pleasure, if it hadn't been for his hold on you, you don't think you would have been able to stay up.

His lips find your pulse point after a bit, leaving soft kisses around as you massage his scalp, watching with amusement as his wings twitch softly. You would stay in this position for the rest of time if you could, everything just falls into place in these soft moments between you two.

Unfortunately, you get a stark reminder of your surroundings when you hear the back door open, the music filtering through it. You tense immediately, suddenly hyper aware of your compromising position. Azriel leans away from your neck to look into your eyes, his serene expression and the way his wings cocoon around both of you calming you down.

Just as he promised, whoever stumbled out of the bar didn't even suspect you were hidden in the shadows, walking out onto the main street as if they were alone. When you don't hear any footsteps anymore, you let your head fall back against the wall, finally relaxing and breathing a soft, “Fuck.”

He watches you for a moment before speaking up. “We need to get out of here. People are starting to leave,” he tells you, a glimpse of amusement behind his words.

You nod in agreement, knowing he's right but, even after your scare, still hesitant to let go of him, reveling in the warmth of his skin against yours and his soft touch for as long as possible.

The longer you've been sleeping together, the harder it is to accept that outside of the bedroom you're nothing more than acquaintances, you wouldn't even call him your friend. Aside from moments like this or the rare occasion of running into him when you're working, you don't see or talk to him at all.

You always find yourself missing him, not only his body. That's something you need to hide from him, the implications would be enough to have him call off this agreement between you. There is no space for feelings in it, both of you made it very clear from the beginning. You should do yourself a favor and end it before the fluttering of your heart morphs into something more dangerous but you can't bring yourself to even consider it.

He pulls out of you gently, none the wiser to the internal conflict raging inside you. Getting you down from his hold and carefully helping you stand on unsteady legs, muscles still spasming faintly. A rag appears through his shadows and he helps you clean yourself up with it before even worrying about himself, making sure your dress falls back into place as well. You were truly playing a losing game with him. How could you not fall for Azriel?

When you're both decent enough, he calls his shadows off and you put up a glamour around yourself, hopefully masking his male scent clinging to your skin.

“I need to find my friends and let them know I'm leaving.” You try to think of excuses, knowing they'll know you're running off with someone but praying they can't figure out who.

He nods at you, looking over your body with an indecipherable look in his eyes as he takes note of his marks disappearing. “I'll wait for you here.”

“What?”

“My family is used to me sneaking off in the middle of outings,” a smirk grows on his face as he adds, “And I'm not done with you quite yet.”

taglist: @tinymarklee

#azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #acotar x reader #acotar smut #divider by saradika

584 notes · View notes

gh0stsp1d3r · 11 months

Note

Ok while reading ur teenagers series I kept imagining the reader as the little girl from the univers that got destroyed but in ur fics she happened to make it out. But I also can't stop imagining what would happen if reader found out that her Miguel isn't her actual dad. Cuz let's be honest that's totally somthing he would keep from her. So if ur up to it could u pretty please write something like that 🙏. Maybe include hobie's reaction to??

stop this is so sad

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬… 𝐩𝐭 𝟕

“You and your dad look nothing alike.”

You always got that, all the time. You questioned if you were even his sometimes.

“No, Lyla. I’m not gonna tell her-“

“She’s old enough. She deserves to know-“

Lyla was about to say something else when you walked into the room. You overheard it.

She’s been pushing Miguel since you turned 12 to tell you. He was always too scared to do so.

“Hey-“ Miguel turned to you quickly.

“What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if Hobie could come over?”

“Sure, yeah, whatever. I’ll see you later, there’s something wrong with Lyla or something and Margo needs me to come check it out or something.”

He was lying.

“Okay. Yeah. See you.” You said as he practically ran out the door.

You looked around his room, realizing you’ve never really snooped around in here.

He was up to something, so you decided to look around.

Hobie decided to help you, he had nothing better to do with his time.

“What do you think he’s hiding exactly..?” He asked, going through some files.

“Something. I just…. Don’t know what.”

He stopped when he saw a folder with your name. He handed you the folder.

Lord of scribbled notes, pictures of you when you were a child, but none when you were a baby. Probably about 4 or 5 in the pictures.

You held them up, and looked at them.

Hobie pulled out a document in the folder, that was hidden.

“DO NOT OPEN.” It said, so he opened it.

He skimmed through it, but stopped for a second.

“Y/n L/n, taken in by Miguel O’Hara when earth-712 was about to collapse, he arrived in time and couldn’t save anyone but the child. He now has legal guardianship of the child. This child may be considered dangerous, and must be under watch AT ALL TIMES.”

He stopped reading and looked at you, you gave him a confused look. He just handed you it to you.

You read through it, tears starting to form.

You looked back at Hobie, who gave you a sympathetic look. He went next to you, rubbing your shoulder as you started to cry into your knees. He held you while you did so.

“I just can’t fucking believe it- I’ve been lied to my whole life.” You sobbed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m gonna go beat his ass.” He mumbled the last part under his breath.

You laughed at that for a second and went back to crying. It was quiet for a moment, he looked at you.

“C’mon, let’s get up.” He said, grabbing your hand and going to your room. You both sat on your bed for a while in silence.

“Thank you.” You sniffled, wiping your nose with your sweater. You laid down and he still sat down on your bed.

“It’s what I’m here for.”

You smiled slightly at him.

“I love you.”

“I love you more. Do you need anything..?”

“No. Don’t leave. Please.”

“I won’t” he laid down next to you, and held you. You turned on the tv.

“New season?” He asked, he didn’t know there would be one.

“Yeah.” You laughed.

“Alright then.” He got more comfortable, and so did you.

—————————————————

After an hour or two after that, you both fell asleep, the tv going on in the background.

It was late, About 10 pm. Miguel opened the front door. He sighed and took off his shoes, his mask was already gone, and he went into his bedroom.

“Fuck.” He mumbled as he opened the door to his room. It was a mess, and the one file he hoped you never saw was open, dark spots covering it which he guessed was tears.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He repeated it, cleaning up the files and mess, then looking into your room.

He only opened it a little, he knew you knew. He knew that Hobie would question him about it in the morning. He knew that you would hate him if you didn’t already.

He left and plopped down into his bed, suit still on. He looked at the pictures you had pulled out. Pictures of you when you were younger.

All of it would be gone all because he couldn’t tell you.

———————————————————-

Miguel did not sleep that day, he changed and stared at the ceiling the whole night. And even when the light shined through his window, he didn’t get up.

He only got up when he heard you both shuffling around.

“You got your stuff?” Hobie asked you. You were gonna stay at his for a while, just until you felt ready.

“Where are you going?” Miguel asked, both of you turning to him.

“Away from you.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I was gonna tell you but I couldn’t-“

“You couldn’t? You lied to me my whole fucking life!”

“You have to understand, ever since Gabriella I haven’t known what love was, that was until I found you, okay? I love you. And you can hate me, you can go away, but I will always love you, because even if you’re not my biological daughter, you’re still my daughter. I raised you. And no matter what you do, you can’t run away from that.”

You stayed silent for a moment. Not knowing what to say.

“He’s not wrong, love. He’s your dad.” Hobie said, grabbing your shoulder.

You started to cry again, and went up to Miguel and hugged him. Tightly. He hugged you like he never wanted to let go.

Hobie smiled and Miguel looked at him then back to you.

“I love you.” You mumbled to him.

“I know.”

#hobie brown x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown #spider punk x reader #teenagers hobie brown series

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sukunas-wife · 3 months

Note

Ryoumen “i want a second son” Sukuna except he gets a feral little princess who matches his energy and is not above taking big bites of dad and only yuuji-nii can control her sksks

Eegehehe- warning- I suck at writing for girls actually😭 I’ve never had a younger sister or niece 🥹 my female cousins are literally non existent also,

The doctor became nervous after your newborn started crying. The maids made quick work of taking care of everything and handing you your child already bundled up. Sukuna was just as confused before he took his child from you, carefully unfolding the blanket.

The room was silent, everyone turning to Sukuna, for a brief second your aching muscles were numb that you didn’t feel after birth. You were nervous, what happened, why didn’t anyone say anything? Sukuna held the child with two large hands supporting it, using his other two hands to carefully pull back the blanket. He didn’t lift his head, but you watched his mouth gape slightly like he wanted to say something. He turned his head slightly, settling on just looking at you through the corner of his eyes. It was a low rasp “she’s a girl,” he cleared his throat wrapping her back up. Without a doubt it was his, his pink hair, she had even taken to his red eyes like Yuji had. His fixed stare didn’t show it but he was concerned for her, even if he had wanted a second son, “Lord Sukuna we co-No.” he turned to Uraume, “It’s my child regardless if it’s a boy or not. She stays here.” He leaned back, handing you your daughter.

After everyone had cleared the room you were breastfeeding your child. Sukuna sat with arms crossed, eyes closed and his head resting back against the wall. You were staring down at your little girl and you realised, “You didn’t want a daughter because it’s going to force you to settle down.” You were grinning like a fool when you turned to look at Sukuna, he grunted not opening an eye or looking at you. “I’d be a fool to let anything happen to my daughter.”

You hummed, “If she’s anything like you I’m sure she can handle her own like Yuji when she’s older.” Sukuna opened an eye looking at you, “Anya..” you turned to look at him. “Her name is Anya.” There was no room to argue with him on that. He stood up, “I’ll bring Yuji.”

He left the room before you mocked him “oouu I’m Sukuna I’m gonna protect my daughter I’m a big bad tough guy.” You scoffed to yourself, “He doesn’t realise he’ll never hurt another child again Anya.” Leaning down you kissed her little head, and she barely opened her eyes.

—————

“hehehe” Sukuna was sitting on his throne head resting on his fist, eyes closed. You left a while ago to do something he already forgot about. Yuji wanted to go with you but Anya held him back, Anyways was an anomaly. She had no cursed energy or presence. Yet she still had the power to read minds, it was something that baffled Sukuna.

He learned she had that power at the worst time, when you were all gathered eating breakfast. When he thought about getting a collar. Anya just jumped excited “are we getting a dog like the one’s old man sells in town?!” Everyone looked concerned at Anya and she pointed at your husband with a bright smile, “Papa was thinking about buying a collar!” You looked at Sukuna “When did you- Right now! He was thinking about looking for a collar and a really good one so it doesn’t slip up or come loose.” It was the heat on your cheeks when you realised what collar he meant, but you were more concerned when you thought he was actually saying these things out loud in front of Anya.

Sukuna was looking away trying to clear his throat, ‘What the hell is this brat on about? I didn't say that shit out loud… did I?’

“OOOO PAPA SAID A BAD WORD!” Anya covered her mouth with her hands and she turned to you, your mind was drawing a blank ‘…what..what’s going on…”

Yuji was spaced out shovelling food into his face before he looked over, “Anya sit down don’t stand on the chair.” She listened to his not so demanding verse and sat down, “okay Yuji-nii.” She plopped down in her chair before perking up, “Are we getting a dog?”

Sukuna cleared his throat again looked right at her, if his hunch was right, ‘No, we’re not bringing some mangy mutt into the house’

Anya deflated and rested her chin on the table pouting, “why not?” ‘Because I said so.’ “Then why’d you say?” ‘Because I’m the owner of this house I decide what goes and comes.’ Anya sighed, getting teary eyed, trying her best to plead silently the way Yuji had taught her. Yuji snickered and he turned to you, you were sitting down whispering and asking Yuji if he knew what was going on. He explained to you that he figured out Anya could read minds not too long ago when she kept beating him in stone, parchment, shears, (please I’m sorry😭), hide and seek, and their little treasure hunting games. What he didn’t tell you was he also used her to out scam the guy who shuffles a gold token and bets money you’ll never find it.

It explained to you why Sukuna was just giving her looks and she was vocally responding.. it left you to worry how many of your thoughts she had actually heard. 😭

On a side note- here are some cannon events in the process of Anya growing up 😭😭

As a baby she was menace 🥺 she liked biting/trying to chew her dads fingers when he’d poke her cheeks. Not a cute nibble either, she’d dive in predicting the “If you eat his finger you’ll get stronger”

When she took hold of his finger the first time he was in love. That was his daughter and she meant the world to him. Then she dug her nails hard into his skin making him wince and immediately clip her nails. But when you don’t clip her nails because you're scared you’ll hurt her he always ends up with a scratched chest and hands when she’d try to take hold of something. She’s the reason he started wearing shirts even if they were uncomfortable on his massive arms 😔

Was kinda glad she didn’t sleep in the bed with both of you. She loved sleeping on his chest and Sukuna did also. But only allowed it when he could put those baby gloves on her.

After hitting age one she loved messing with Yuji and Sukuna while they were sleeping. You continuously went after her picking her up with your hand sunder her arms. She’s let out her baby screams and wiggle her body you could hear your husband’s attitude, “unhand me mother! I crave chaos! Ahahahsgsghshss!”

The older she got the more both of you learned the way Yuji admired his dad but was a total mama’s boy? It was almost the same case. Except she admired her dad.. and was a daddy girl. Yes she loved you and thought the world of you, but daddy’s so cool because he has so many cool powers! 🥺

It didn’t matter if she was sleeping in your arms, she was laughing and having the best time with you. If she even felt or heard the slightest sound, meaning Ryomen was in the room, she would scream and cry for him to pick her and take her with him. The same case as Baby Yu, you were jealous Ryo got all the attention and baby love even if they were attached to your chest most of the time.

Speaking of jealous, Yuji was the most jealous little 10 year old boy 🥹 “MY DADDY!” He’d carry Anya back to you so he could sit in HIS dads lap. Sukuna found it amusing and more often than not bullied Yuji. Which actually led to your funny little schedule where when Anya was briefly awake Yuji would be glued to your side. When Anya was asleep Yuji would run and stick to his dads side.

Sukuna has a permanent dent in his side boob where 2yo old Anya crawled over to him on your bed and then latched on, i don’t mean milk- i mean she saw a mound of flesh and went ‘nom’ He grunted and it took everything in him to not swat her instantly. He sat up after pulling her away. She was dangling by her feet clapping her hands and laughing, Sukuna was pressing his hand to his chest helping himself and cursing because no way he really let this brat catch him off guard and mess him up 😭

Which is also when it hits him, she has no presence because she has no cursed energy. He was disappointed but relieved she’d never have a reason to be caught in trouble 🥹

Here’s a little montage of moments 🥹

An invisible child means invisible crimes. Sure, Ryomen could actively tell where she was. But it’s his child he could let his guard down and close his eyes to think about the things he had to do. Breathing became slower the more he started to relax almost to napping completely.

1…2…3…4… “YUJIII NIII I GOT THE THING”

Kamutoke… she took the Kamutoke

Sukuna was going to get up and chase after her but she tripped and face planted into the shiny floors Sukuna had to pick her up and wipe off her tears and snot while telling Uraume to put up his tool because there was no doubt in his mind Yuji or Anya would kill the other with it by mistake

Anya loves her parents, but when Sukuna is thinking Sinister thoughts she runs to Yuji.

Ex. The four of you went out into the city, Anya was riding on her dad’s shoulders the way Yuji used to. She was patting away on his head when she heard the thought, “I should kill that man, I’ll start by slowly gutting him a- wwaahhhhh” followed by squirming and Anya basically jumping over knocking down Yuji. When you asked her what was wrong she said “…nothing… papa is kinda scary.”

Yuji had to piggy back her the rest of the day when she didn’t feel like walking but she sang her cute little “Family ooting” song

This is both Yuji and Anya when daddy’s home ,

(I’m sorry I’m so bad at writing for girls 😭 I don’t have a niece to spoil or interact with, I’ll have to steal my friend and her little sister next time and play with her 🥹 I’ll do better for next one i promise 😤)

Tag: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @dolliira @ilovemybabies378

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mrslankyman · 2 months

Text

Sinfully Gorgeous pt. 2

Vox x (fem) over lord reader

Smut

Word count: 5K

Working on: Part 3

3 weeks.

It had been 3 weeks since you shot that porno with Vox. So why in the HELL was everyone in HELL still raving over it?!

It wasn’t anything special.

It was a brand deal and that was it. It wasn’t like you knew it was going to be Vox. Valentino stated after the shoot he chose Vox since it would boost you both. Sure it did but at what cost?

Your phone was flooded with texts and emails from sinners asking if you and Vox were a thing.

Have you joined the Vees?

Were you and Vox fucking on the low?

How long were you two together?

All these questions were getting to your head and making you sick.

You laid back in your expensive bed. The silky pillows that most sinners could never afford comforting your head. Phone in hand you scrolled through your feed. Vox’s news show popped.

“Top of the hour sinners. Today we will be discussing the ongoing discussion that I and I'm sure our lovely {Y/N} is seeing too.” He clasped his hands together and turned to the screen in front of him that was showing photos of sinners questions.

“Has {Y/N} joined the Vees?” He read aloud. “No she has not, though I would not be opposed to the idea.” He chuckled, sending a wink to the camera.

You groaned and fast forward on the video stopping when a clip of the porno popped up on the screen. Curious of what he would say about it. You hadn’t talked to him since a day after that was filmed.

“How did it feel to fuck the {Y/N}?” He chuckled as he read that aloud. A smirk crawled onto his face. “Well folks I’ll tell ya. It was better than any sex I myself have ever had.” He leaned forward covering half his mouth with the side of his hand. “A little secret for you all, she has the tightest pussy you’ll ever fuck in hell.” He laughed leaning back. “Yes folk it’s true she was definitely a virgin and safe to say I took that card from her.” His cocky laugh echoed in your head.

He took your virginity?

What was he a fucking idiot?

Embarrassing you on Hell's public news.

You were not a virgin, far from it and for this cocky ass tv faced man to state he was the lucky one to take it from you made you seeth.

You instantly opened up your messages and searched his name in your contact. Typing out a text. Fingers flying across the screen as anger edged in every digital word typed.

{You}: who in the HELL do you think you are? Saying you took my virginity on the fucking news? Real mature of you. What the fuck are we teenagers in high school. If you ever fucking do something like this again I will make sure you and your little fucking news channel are never broad casted again.

{Vox}: Wow, didn't suspect you to see it so soon. What's the matter, I was just messing around. I bet it was the best sex you’ve ever had, why not say your best was also your first?

{You}:oh were cocky as fuck huh? You really think you were the best? Keep dreaming.

{Vox}: I must have been something for you to go off script.

{You}: fuck you, you went off script as well.

{Vox}: oh you wanna fuck me again? Maybe I'll make it an even better time, we can make our own script.

{You}: you know what I meant. Never fucking mention me on your little show again. It was a one time deal.

{Vox}: aren’t you just a ball of sunshine. Whatever you say darling. I’ll erase that part of the segment from the show and their memories.

{You}: good, the only time your fucking mind control has been used for an actual purpose.

{Vox}: Or I can just keep it up. You know you’re not being very kind.

{You}: oh fuck off this is hell. I don’t need to be kind to the man who just publicly embarrassed me.

{Vox}: and the man who publicly pleasured you.

{You}: just take it down.

{Vox}: yes ma’am.

You groaned and turned your phone off. Throwing it to the floor and laying down fully. Pulling the covers over your head and closing your eyes. Sleeping the anger and annoyance off.

—

Your alarm buzzed in the morning. You groaned and woke up grabbing your phone from the floor and turning it off. But not before you saw the message from Alastor.

“You’re a virgin?”

That fucker didn’t delete the segment!

You dashed around your house putting on an outfit and doing your make up the fastest you had ever. Your shoes were on in seconds and out the door you went.

You called a cab and got in, instructing them to take you to the Vees tower. Of course you know the consequences of this.

Everyone would assume you were going to see Vox in a different way. When in reality his ass was going to get a fist in his screen.

The cab dropped you off and you paid them before getting out. Marching up to the front of the building. A few people looked over. Snapping pictures and videos. You rolled your eyes and pressed the buzzer on the door.

“Who is it?” Voxs voice played through the small speaker.

“{Y/N}.” The second you said your name the doors opened. You smirked slightly and headed inside jumping as the doors closed behind you harshly.

“Vox! Where the fuck are you we need to have a talk!” You yelled walking around the lobby looking for any sign of him. Footsteps echoed down the hall and there he was. A smile on his stupid flat screened face.

“Ah {Y/N} So nice of you to stop by-” You grabbed him by his suit's flaps and slammed him against the wall. A groan escaped his lips and his screen displayed a loading circle before his eyes came back.

“You asshole, I told you to take that segment down!” You screamed in his face without giving a second to think. “Do you know who the fuck I am?! I will end you!” You leaned into his face. Your spit landing on his screen. He glared at you but on the inside he was loving the attention.

Your hands on him was enough to make him melt. But he had to be sure not to display it too much. Or you’d let go and call him weird.

“You can end me anytime you want.” His words were smooth and flirtatious. He obviously did not understand the gravity of the situation he was in.

“You do not wanna fuck with me Vox.” You warned re-shoving him against the wall. He grunted and grabbed your arms. “You know I would love to fuck with you.” He chuckled, eyeing you with a smirk. “You little-” Your grip tightened on him getting ready to shove him again.

“{Y/N}!” He yelled his right eye widening as he used his mind control on you. You froze your eyes going wide. Your grip on him faltered as you shook your head. The daze wears off.

“Why don’t you calm down?” He offered, pulling your arms down from his suit. “Don’t use that fucking mind control shit on me.” You pulled your arms away from him. He sighed and rested his hand on his hips. “Yes ma’am.” His voice was full of annoyance now.

“Delete the segment. That’s all I want. I’ll leave you alone and you do the same.” You held out your hand. “Deal?” You tilted your head, pink fire appearing around your palm.

“No deals. I just promise I will. I’m no idiot. I know how you pull strings.” He pushed your hand away, the fire disappearing. You groaned and pulled your hand back.

“Very well.” You nodded even though a part of you knew he would never take that segment down fully.

“I’ll go delete it.” He fixed his tie, closing his eyes. “Good.” You said before a ding came from your phone. You held it up. “At Voxs darling?” Alastor had texted. A part of you hated Charlie for getting him onto this phone kick. He was so against technology until he was told he could text you whenever.

Vox opened one eye as he heard the ding. He eyed you and read the text. The words Darling and Alastor made his circuits spark. Why in the hell did that old timey prick have your number?

“I better leave before everyone in hell assumes we're seeing each other. I do not need that in my life.” You shoved your phone in your pocket. Looking up at Vox whose face had a rather.. Concerning smile displaying.

He let out a laugh though it glitched. He stepped closer to you. His hand grabbed your arm pulling you to him. “Why the fuck is the radio demon texting you?” His voice deepened. Eyes squinting as he grabbed your phone from your pocket.

“Hey!- what the fuck.” You squirmed in his grip. A tsk tsk came from him as he used his eye to unlock your phone. Reading you and Alastors messages. Anger surged through him as you both had been sending jokes about him. His grip on you tightened and he squeezed your phone in his other hand till it shattered into pieces.

“Vox what the fuck!-” You watched as he broke your phone, your attention being snapped back to his face as he slammed you up against the wall this time.

He laid his arm next to your head on the wall and his other hand gripped your neck.

“I’m not taking the segment down. You wanna talk shit about me to that damn radio demon go ahead. I'll say whatever I want about you. You are nothing to me.” His words were low and strung out. His eyes were wide and red drool dripped from his mouth. Though his grip on your neck was tight it wasnt hard enough to really choke you out.

That was one thing he did not want to do.

He was pissed off but not necessarily at you. The idea that Alastor got more of your attention than him is what pissed him off. He knew it was such a stupid thing to be mad over.

But he wanted you. Even if he had to pretend he didn’t.

Your eyes squinted and you squirmed under him. Truthfully he didn’t scare you. This position didn’t make you feel threatened, it made you feel.. Other things.

In a dark and twisted way his anger really made you think of that shoot. How his hands gripped your sides and he’d moan before glitching out.

“If you wanna scare me you’re gonna have to try harder than this.” You grabbed his face. Your hand pulling him closer. “Cause all I can think about is you glitching out before you cummed inside me.” Your words made his screen display a light shade of red.

“I-”

“You want that again hmm?” You kissed his screen. “Want to feel my tight pussy as you said? I guess since it was the best I’ve ever had you’d think I would’ve been begging you for more.” You whispered, making your voice low and seductive. His grip faltered as his screen turned red. His eyes drooped as you talked to him sensually.

“Too bad I wasn’t.” You cooed, kicking him in the crotch. He groaned and keeled over. Holding his crotch in his hands. “Fuck fuck fuck..” He groaned in pain as you stepped over him.

“You owe me a phone.” You spat on his withering form and walked out.

–-

Safe to say he gave you a new phone. That part of the segment was erased. To your knowledge from the general public of hell. Knowing Vox he probably cut it from half the people's memories and kept it in the other to confuse them.

What an ass hole.

Today you were off to Alastor's radio tower. He wanted to have you on this new segment he was working on. Whatever that meant.

You had made it to the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie showed you to Alastors tower. You thanked her and headed inside. He greeted you and showed you the different buttons and the mic. Getting you accustomed to the technology before having a seat with you.

Not having a camera in your face was both relaxing and strange. This seemed more like a conversation you were having with a friend that just so happened to be recorded.

“Today I am here with my dear friend {Y/N}.” Alastor spoke into his mic. Smiling your way as you said hello.

“So why don’t you tell everyone what it’s like to be the fashion overlord?” He handed you his mic. Urging you to introduce yourself further.

After the basic introduction was done he began to ask you questions. It slowly became clear to you what he was doing.

“What is your opinion on Vox?” He smirked and leaned your way. That question made you groan.

“That man? Come now Alastor. You know he isn’t something to talk about.” You leaned back in your chair and your reply made Alastor chuckle.

“Go on dear. Just tell us about him.” He leaned the mic closer to you.

“Fine.” You took the mic and leaned up.

“Vox is something. Not the kind of something you’d want either. He is terrible in bed.” You snickered at the idea that Vox would be listening to you. “Oh is he now? I do believe we all saw that video dear. It seems the opposite.” He eyed you a shit eating grin on his face.

“That’s what a script is for.” You sneered.

“There's a theory you went off script. After all that Valentino did post it.” He checked his claws smirking.

You groaned as Alastor was just doing this to stir drama. He hated Vox but loved to mess with you. So he was playing both ways.

“Anyways, besides that he is a prick and snoops on everyone. He is fucking insane but I suppose that’s why he’s here. If you are thinking about trying to get with that man please do so he will leave me alone.” You handed the mic back to Alastor. He was holding in his laugh. “Thank you dear for your lovely insight on that clout chasing mediocre video podcasts.” He ended the broadcast and sighed.

—

About 4 hours after the broadcast a ding sounded from your phone. Either it was Alastor or some random person.

You checked the message and groaned as the name displayed on your screen.

Vox.

Of course.

You slid open your phone and sat down on your couch to answer him.

{Vox}: doing a broadcast with the radio demon to degrade me? Really. After you begged me to delete your segment.

{You}: what's the matter? Thought you liked being degraded

{Vox}: I'm not doing this. I’m gonna have to make you understand.

{You}: oh really? Why don’t you just face that you suck in bed and you suck even more as a person.

{Vox}: I suck in bed? Oh sweet heart. I don’t believe that's what you truly think.

{Vox has sent a video}

You pressed play, wishing you didn’t as a clip from the porno played. You were riding him moaning his name and begging him to go faster. His fingers digging into your sides as he rammed into you on your command.

{You}: have to give the audience what they want.

{Vox}: oh yeah? What if there wasn’t an audience?

{You}: then none of that would’ve happened. I’d be as quiet as a mouse.

{Vox}: we’ll see about that.

{You}: what's that mean?

:seen 3 minute ago:

“Bitch.” You turned your phone off and laid down on the couch. Letting your mind wander back to the shoot. Perhaps you did enjoy him a little more than you’d like to admit. But you’d never tell him that. Or anyone for that matter.

It’s bad enough there were more theories going around on you two. How the hatred was an act so you could keep things private. How it was fake or just a stunt for money.

You’d let the public guess and argue over it. You had no intentions on stating anything as of yet.

So not thinking much of anything you turned on your tv and sat back.

You sat up a little as you tv went to static. A blue glow came from it after a moment and a shock wave burst from it. The room went black and then the tv turned back on. Vox stood in front of you. Blocking the tv from view.

“What the- Vox what the fuck!” You sat up all the way as Vox stepped closer with a smile on his face.

“We don’t have an audience here.” He leaned down looming over you as. Leaning back into the couch you slowly smirked. “Oh is that so? You wanna see if you can really work your magic on me?” You teased him watching as his face grew more annoyed.

“Yes I do.” He put a finger under your chin and lifted it up. “I wanna prove to you that going off the script was because I am good at what I do. Not because you wanted to promote your bullshit brand.” He chuckled and moved you down on the couch to a lying position.

“Oh you really wanna prove a point? Then I'm gonna make mine. I bet you can’t make me make a single sound.” You snickered as he threw his hat off to the ground.

“Fine but I'm gonna make you eat those words.” He leaned down and kissed you. You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth.

He slid his tongue inside your mouth. You closed your eyes and let your tongues tangle together.

His hand slid down your sides and grabbed your jeans. You didn’t make a noise, the only sound was your pants rubbing together as Vox began to grind against you.

A part of you just wanted to give in. Let him take you and win. But the bitch inside you wanted to win to shove it in his face every day. So you suppressed your moans and pulled back from the kiss.

He stared down at you and smirked, “Come on.. Just a little peep.” He groaned and made a quick upwards motion with his hips. It felt good you wouldn’t lie.

You shook your head and smirked though earning an annoyed groan from the man above you. “Good thing we just started.” His voice was low as he undid your pants and yanked them off with a swift movement.

You stared up at him and smirked. He slid off his blazer and undid his tie. The only thing left was his striped shirt.

You sat up and pushed him down instead. He looked at you confused before smirking. He liked this and he didn’t care if you didn’t care in the moment if you didn’t like him how he liked you. Any form of attention from you was good.

The feeling of you sitting on his bulge made his screen glitch as a low moan escaped him. He wanted to hear your approving moans as well but you weren’t giving it to him. You just moved against him with the best poker face he had ever seen.

“F- fuck..” His voice buffered as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off him slightly. He didn’t want this to be over too soon.

“I’m gonna break you. Just you wait.” He clawed at the sides of your underwear. Breaking the thin fabric, grabbing them as they fell down. He tossed them to the side and looked at you.

You blushed. Thanking Lucifer a blush didn’t count as a noise. That action was pretty hot. The desire in his eyes shone through. He slid off two of his claws. Just as he did for the shoot.

He lifted his hand to his mouth and licked them. Red saliva littered them. You anticipated the feeling of them inside you. Trying to prepare yourself so you didn’t moan.

But he didn’t just slide them in. He circled his fingers around your clit.

Smirking as he saw you twitch. Biting your lip before going back to a straight face.

“Oh come on. I almost got you.” He laughed and slid one finger in. Pushing it in and out before adding the second and curling them inside.

He kept pumping them in and out at different paces trying to make you moan. Anything really. A small gasp or groan.

He wasn’t given the pleasure.

You just closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling. You hadn't met a man who could finger this good. He sure was something and you would love to keep this up. But his fingers just weren’t like his dick. Which was under you twitching and leaking pre cum.

Just waiting for it’s turn inside. So you grabbed his wrist and he slid out his fingers.

“Come on.. I’ll only give it to you if you beg.” He smirked and slid his finger down your slit teasingly. You shook your head.

“Come on!” His voice statticed and he shoved his dick inside you. The amount of force you had to use to suppress your moan was astounding.

He groaned as he noticed you didn't make a sound.

“Fine, but I'm still gonna give you a damn good time. So you can’t say im shit at this.” he pulled out of you and flipped you over. Pushing you down under him. He wrapped your legs around him and slowly slid inside you again. Leaning his head back a quiet moan escaping his lips.

You grabbed his shoulders and bit your lip. With each steady thrush the feeling of giving up echoed in your mind. It was starting to hurt holding in your noises. His eyes were squeezed shut, teeth bared and red drool dripping from his mouth. Blue static came from him as soon as he picked up his pace.

“F-f-fuck.. I fucking hate you.” He slammed into you and a quiet moan escaped your lips.

His eyes shot open and he looked down at you. Your face was red and sweaty. You covered your mouth, a smirk displayed on his face.

“What was that?” He taunted and slid all the way out of you then back in. A quiet moan escaped your mouth again.

“Yeah that's right, I knew you couldn’t last forever.” He chuckled, his cocky attitude back. He kept his thrush gentle and slow. You gave in and let your moans fill the room. Vox loved the sounds. All your attention on him every moan, grunt, and whimper from your mouth was for him. It made his dick even harder. “Vox..please.. Please I'm.. I’m almost..” You stared into his eyes on the verge of orgasm.

“Go ahead, we’ll do it together darling.” He slid his hand down and circled your clit and thrusted into you on more time. His cum filling your inside as yours too gave way and hit your orgasm.

His screen glitched out and his voice buffered as he moaned your name.

After you both came down from your highs you looked into his eyes.

“I hate you.” You glared at him.

“You may hate me but I know you love him.” He chuckled as he slid his dick out, rubbing it against your slit. Earning an annoyed groan from you.

“This was fun. Good to know you enjoyed it.” He winked and stood up. Putting on his clothes. He walked down your hall. You groaned and looked down at the cum on your couch. Annoyed now.

He came back with a damp towel. He pushed you down gently and cleaned you up. Then rubbed the excess off the couch.

“Gotta keep my toy clean.” He pinched your face before sliding his claws back on.

“Least you have decent manners.” You scoffed and sat up.

“Of course.” He smiled and glitched out. Disappearing into the tv. The room went black before the lights turned on.

You got dressed and sat on the couch. Embarrassingly repeating the way he moaned your name in your head over and over.

Why did you let him win?

—

Today was your and Alastors photo shoot. You were modeling Sinfully Gorgeous but just a few of the modest outfits. With Alastors old time camera it made things look more classy. So he had agreed to do a small shoot in your studio.

He had arrived about an hour ago. He was all dressed up just waiting for you now. You had gone for an old timey style of makeup and hair.

Walking out of your dressing room he looked over. His eyes widened and a pleasant smile erased the plain one.

“You look lovely darling.” He titled his head. “Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself.” You complimented back, gaining a chuckle from him.

“Shall we do this?” He stood up straight. “Yes.” You replied back heading over to the backdrop. It was plain white but it made the photos show up better.

You did a few different poses and outfits. Some silly and others professional.

“Wait, I have an idea.” You smirked and Alastor looked at you with a confused smile.

“Voxtek is sponsoring this shoot. Part of a contract deal after that shoot with Valentino. I made Vox sign a contract to sponsor whatever I want when I want since I had to.. Fuck him” You rolled your eyes.

“Right.” Alastor chuckled. He knew better. You and that tv headed fucker for sure had something going on. But you were his friend so he wouldn't say his true opinion. Though he sure as hell did back at the hotel.

“I know just the way to tick him off.” You smirked at him and he instantly knew what you meant. Loving the idea of pissing off Vox for fun.

—

You did a few poses. Holding each other. Alastor dipping you and finally the ones that would piss Vox off the most. You knew Alastor wasn’t one for these types of things. Though he agreed he did not mind if it was just to piss off Vox.

You had ordered your helpers to set up a chair. They did as asked and Alastor sat down.

“Go head darling. I wanna see the look on his face when he sees these.” You both laughed as you sat between his legs.

Alastor gripped your chin and turned your face to his. His smile on his face. Though it was a more intimate one. He sure played this well. You look into his eyes with as much passion as a smirk displayed on your face.

The photo was taken and you stood up. Slinging your legs over Alastors lap, your assistant changed the camera's angle to get a side view. Alastor looked into your eyes. “Excuse me if I am not good at this.”He chuckled and you smiled. “It’s okay.” You both had a short laugh before getting ready for the photo.

He closed his eyes and you leaned in. Pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back but he wasn't hesitant. He just wasn’t sure how to move his lips. You pulled away the second the photo was taken.

“You aren’t terribly bad.” You joked, gaining an eye roll from him.

The last photo was one of you both standing. Alastor kissed you one last time but in this one his eyes were looking at the camera. A bigger dig at Vox.

—

“Thanks for helping me.” You thanked Alastor as you had gotten the photos ready to be sent out to Voxtek. “It’s not a problem. Anything for an old pal.” Alastor smiled as you both walked out of the studio.

—

Vox sipped on his coffee until a ding came through on his screen. He flicked his finger and sent it to one of his monitors. He opened the email and sifted through the photos your team had emailed him.

He groaned as it was you and Alastor. Pissed off that the radio demon was getting your attention now.

His anger was pretty controlled till he got to the attachment labeled ‘surprise.’

A part of him hoped it was some sinful photos of you in your outfit. Though to his dismay it was not.

He opened up the file with a smirk on his face only for it to be erased in a meer second as his eyes landed on you and Alastor kissing. He gripped his desk claws digging into it. Leaving a mark.

He groaned and looked at the next photo. Alastor kissing you and eyeing the camera with that smug grin tugging on his lips. He screamed and slammed his fist into the monitor, cracking it and causing the screen to glitch out.

The monitor turned off as he kept punching it. His screams and groans of anger echoing through the room.

“The fuck is your problem?!” Velvette asked as she slammed open the door.

Vox turned around to look at her. A deranged smile on his face as his eye twitched.

“Set up my showroom. If this bitch wants to play dirty we’ll play dirty.” He pulled his hand out of the monitor watching as his blood trickled down his arm.

#vox #vox hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vox x fem reader #vox smut #vox x reader smut #vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #ima keep this story going #enemies to lovers #enemies

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aemndx · 1 year

Text

— 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄.

gif credit.

synopsis: aemond targaryen wants to possess you, claim you as his -- and what the dragon wants, he shall get.

author’s note: heey! this is my first time posting my writing on here.. im a bit nervous, but very excited. i really hope u enjoy reading it. also, please reblog, comment + leave ur feedback! it’d mean the world to me if u did. thank u so much for taking the time to read & visiting my blog! lots of love. ♡

warnings: minors dni. slight smut. sexual tension. fingering. teasing. female pronouns. possessive behavior. dark themes. stalking--(kind of). aemond makes you have a panic attack over him -- intentionally. innocent!reader. pet names. romance. fluff. any grammatical errors are my own -- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count: 3,7k.

pairings: aemond targaryen x handmaiden!reader (f).

♡࿐ the castle was lively with noble lords and ladies, most of them ignoring you, in favor of socializing with the higher ranks to make alliances between different royal houses. most didn’t even spare you a glance, which you were most thankful for.

the ones who did acknowledge your existence–there were very few–nodded their head in a polite greeting, which you had stopped and curtsied back in respect, muttering a small ‘my lord’ or a ‘my lady’.

which of course–as obviously predicted–filled their massive egos as they walked away with their noses up in the air. of course, no one ever actually bowed to you, you were nothing but a young servant girl, born from a low ranking family.

however, you always preferred to remain unseen – better to be unseen and avoid trouble, than to be seen and cause chaos.

you had just been dismissed, as you finished accompanying queen helaena on her daily walk through the gardens. the queen loved spending time outdoors, and it seemed only right, she was always at peace when she was in nature and the sunshine did her good.

the hallways of the red keep were long as you made your way to the massive library, your footsteps light as air as you walked. the closer you got, the less people there were and you were thankful, never having been too comfortable with tons of people around.

as you continued walking, swiftly turning a corner and heading towards the last flight of stairs that led to the library, you got the sudden feeling as if you were being followed.

naturally, you hurried your footsteps, sneaking a glance behind you and not seeing anyone. nonetheless, you quickly climbed up the stairs, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat. you snapped your neck to the side as you started hearing light footsteps approaching, though you did not see anyone behind you once again, making you think you were crazy.

huffing in frustration, you had just stepped off the last stair, about to round the corner, looking down the hallway and seeing it completely empty. you turned your body slightly around to look back down the staircase, making sure there was nobody actually following you.

thankfully, you saw nobody. perhaps it had just been your mind playing tricks on you, though you couldn’t shake the feeling of a sharp gaze piercing your back. releasing a shaky breath, a bone numbing chill went down your spine, making you wrap your arms around yourself, before you turned back around to finally head towards your destination.

without warning, a pale hand snatched out towards you, wrapping around your waist and pushing you against the nearest secluded wall, causing you to let out a high pitched scream in fear. the hand that grabbed you quickly moved from your waist to cover your mouth, silencing your cries.

you saw a flash of platinum blonde hair from the corner of your eye, causing your wide eyes to look up, seeing none other than prince aemond targaryen, standing casually before you.

the prince stood tall, tilting his head down to look at you with a smirk across his lips. he pressed his body against yours, holding you between the hard stone wall and his lean but well muscled body.

“i’ll remove my hand only if you promise not to scream again,” the prince said, his tone soft but firm.

you nodded your head as best you could, not understanding what was happening.

the prince simply cocked his head sideways, his eye slightly narrowing as he looked over your current frightened state. only a moment passed, the prince letting out a pleased hum as if he saw what he was looking for, before removing his hand from your mouth.

“prince aemond,” you breathed, your body falling limp against the wall behind you.

“lady [name],” the prince purred, looking completely satisfied with himself, like the cat who got the cream.

you swallowed nervously, shifting your feet from side to side, but stopped shortly as you could barely move. “did you need something from me, my prince?”

the prince sighed, amusement slowly spreading across his handsome face. “yes, in fact.. i did. correct me if i’m wrong, but have you been avoiding me, my lady?”

you cursed yourself in your head, before immediately shaking your head no. “of course n-not, my prince. i was just going to visit the library–“

“oh, i am not talking about right this moment, my sweet. i am referring to the past few weeks. every single time i have sought you out, you had the brilliant idea to turn around rather abruptly and scurry away from me as if you were a scared little girl,” he scolded, making you feel incredibly small against him.

the prince paused, watching your face with a sharp eye, before continuing on his rant. “…and let us not forget yesterday,” he seethed, a flash of anger beginning to taint his words. “when you deliberately rushed out of my dear sister’s chambers, without even being dismissed,” he tsked, teasingly. you did not say anything in response, feeling as if you had lost all brain function with the close proximity of the prince.

his clean, but masculine scent surrounded you, causing your mouth to water as you could also smell honey and sweet lemon cakes. his scent completely overwhelmed your senses, making you feel almost dizzy, especially with his handsome face only mere inches away from yours.

when you couldn’t didn’t reply back, the prince raised an eyebrow as if taunting you to try and defend yourself and your most heinous–(according to him)–actions.

“nothing to say, hm?”

you gulped, your lips parting slightly as if to speak, before snapping shut when words did not come out.

what was wrong with you?

“it is highly offensive to not answer your prince when he is addressing you, my lady,” he chastised, as if you were a child misbehaving.

in his point of view, you probably were.

“what? do you not even want to try and defend your most ill-mannered actions? have you not come to the realization that your blatant lack of respect is incredibly unacceptable to me?” he growled, voice rising in anger.

you should’ve known better, waking up the dragon.

“do you not wish for my forgiveness?” he hissed, his words aimed to hurt you.

you flinched as he scolded you like a father would to their child who had done something naughty – unforgivable.

each word he said was direct and targeted towards you, making a small, tortuous whine escape your lips. your cheeks flushed in shame and your head started to spin, you were sure you would die from embarrassment.

“i’m so s-sorry, my prince. of course n-not.. i was just – i was not… no,” you panicked, feeling pathetic and most of all embarrassed from your constant stuttering and shaky voice.

you felt so stupid.

“i swear, i was not trying to be disrespectful towards you, i-i don’t… i did not mean to run away from you, i promise!“ you cried, feeling yourself practically choking on the saliva in your mouth, your fingertips tingling by your sides and your heart was pounding against your ribcage rapidly.

“please, prince aemond.. i never meant any disrespect. i was just.. i was o-only–“ you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp, feeling like your airway was closing. you tried explaining yourself, though everything you were saying sounded like it made little sense and your words were a garbled mess.

hot tears began to pool in your eyes as the prince just watched in shameless amusement as you choked and fumbled over your words, trying to the best of your ability to explain your poor, pathetic self.

graciously, the one-eyed prince showed you mercy.

“alright, alright… shh. you’re alright, little one. i believe you,” the prince cooed, bringing both of his large hands up to cup your flushed face.

the tears that had pooled in your eyes now falling freely, which he had generously brushed away gently with the soft but calloused pads of his thumbs.

“you do?” you cried weakly, feeling your tightened chest begin to relax at his reassuring words.

“mmm,” he hummed lazily, wiping the heated skin of your cheeks lovingly, like he was your lover comforting you after something tragic happened.

“of course, my love. i could never stay truly angry with you,” he confessed, a small smile tugging at his lips as his eye remained looking into your tearful ones.

you felt your wobbly lips turn up into a shy smile, relaxing in the arms of the prince.

you sighed, feeling your limbs relax, thankfully no longer feeling like you were about to pass out from the blood that had rushed to your head in your haste of trying to come up with something to appease him.

gods be good, the last thing you wanted was for him to be upset and angry at you.

“thank you, prince aemond… you have no idea how happy that makes me to hear you say that,” you confessed, locking your eyes with his, though you felt an uncomfortable shiver pass through you, seeing the twinkle of mischief in the prince’s eye.

“…of course, there is still the issue that you purposely avoided me,” he said, watching you with a narrowed eye, irritation bubbling underneath the surface of his heated skin, remembering the many times you had practically ran away from him.

it was almost adorable, thinking you could outrun a dragon.

the gods were surely mocking you now, as he had finally seized you in his fiery grasp, not intending on ever letting you go.

prince aemond watched you try and press your back further into the wall, wanting the castle wall to swallow you whole so that you could disappear from him.

it was like he could read your every thought, all you wanted to do was hide from him.

you did not answer him to confirm his accusation against you, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right – even though you both knew he was.

a brief pause, you felt yourself stop breathing completely, holding your breath and waiting for his next words. you were terrified, who wouldn’t be?

“although.. perhaps i shall be merciful towards you, my sweet,” he breathed, bringing his hands down to your waist and gripping your sides tightly to the point it almost hurt.

aemond carefully watched your face to see if you would be brave enough to push him away, before he shook his head and chuckled lightly to himself, watching you bite down on your bottom lip nervously.

suddenly, the prince spoke out loud to himself rather than to you. “mmm… i wonder,” he murmured, suddenly playful as he let one of his hands travel further down, grabbing the skirt of your dress in his hand, bunching it together and tugging it up until both of your bare legs were exposed to him.

letting go of your waist with his other hand, he reached a large hand underneath your dress, placing the warm palm of his hand directly over your clothed cunt.

you let out a surprised gasp, eyes big and innocent and looking up to see his face that looked rightfully pleased, feeling your cunt soaking through your undergarments.

the prince cupped your cunt fully, pressing his palm up against your clit to apply pressure. “mm, prince aemond…”you mewled, trailing off as you felt the most pleasurable sensation start to swarm in your lower belly.

“oh,” you gasped wantonly, looking up at the prince in desperation.

what was happening to you?!

“indeed,” the prince smirked, leaning his head down to nuzzle his nose into your hair, sighing in content at being so close to you.

finally, he thought.

he inhaled your sweet scent for a moment, pressing a kiss against the side of your head, before moving his head back when he felt an uncontrollable yearning sensation spread throughout his body.

with his eye trained back on you, the hand that was cupping your cunt did not move, simply holding you in his possession and making you feel as if you were slowly losing your mind at the pressure he held against your sensitive clit.

nobody had ever touched you there, you were a maiden – a virgin, pure of heart and of mind and body.

“m-my prince..” you stuttered, your voice coming out small and uncertain.

suddenly, you felt prince aemond’s fingers swiftly move your undergarments to the side, pressing two fingers against your clit, rubbing it softly as if you’d break.

you didn’t doubt it.

you immediately cried out, your legs shaking and head buzzing at the new sensation. you had never felt such pleasure, it was beyond your imagination. you didn’t know what to do, you didn’t even remember reaching up with both hands and grasping at the prince’s shoulders.

when exactly had you done that?

feeling embarrassed, you let your fluttering eyes fall down to prince aemond’s clothed chest, though you could still feel his piercing eye watching your flushed face.

you didn’t know of course, but the one-eyed prince loved to watch you in secret.

it was one of his favorite hobbies, filling him with mirth as he would watch you fret over his sister, following after her to keep her company. although, you did not just serve her, you were now also a close friend to queen helaena.

you were young and sweet as honey, acting just as curious as his sister was with insects, though he knew you found genuine interest in different flowers and plants, just as well as books. you’d only been working at the castle for a few months, helping out in the kitchens.

it was only a few weeks ago that you’d began serving as a handmaiden to his sister, that was when he had truly taken notice to you.

you were so beautiful.

there were also many times where he’d deliberately put himself in your eye line, watching you with an amused smirk curling across his lips as he watched you stumble a multitude of times, once you eventually noticed him.

the prince would watch you for an uncomfortable amount of time, before you’d quickly turn around and scurry away from him, flustered and your belly always swarming with butterflies and something else.

his eye would always flash with hunger every time he saw you walking the halls of the red keep, wanting to claim you as his.

there was one time just a few days ago, when he’d gone to visit his sister unexpectedly, making your eyes widen at the sight of him entering his sister’s chambers unannounced, instantly shrinking away from him.

you had not uttered a single word the entire time he was there, simply humming in acknowledgment as the queen would ask your opinion on something, trying to make you join in on the conversation she was having with her brother.

occasionally, you would mutter something underneath your breath, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration as you tried to keep your focus on doing his sister’s hair, though by his close proximity, he could see your shaking hands.

not once did aemond take his eye off of you the entire time he had been there, making your skin crawl with nervousness.

gods, you were so perfect. so, so perfect. you would be his, he would make sure of it. he would have you all to himself, he had to – lest he go insane.

suddenly, the prince had slipped a single long finger inside your dripping cunt, pumping his finger in and out a few times experimentally, before shoving it back inside and curling it inside of you, feeling the silky walls of your heat clamp down around his finger.

you tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, but you couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped you. you looked back up at the prince pleadingly, your eyebrows furrowed and sweat was beginning to form at the back of your neck from the constant pleasure he was giving you.

aemond let out a soft hum, his eye filled with lust and possessiveness, before he eventually leaned down and captured your lips with his in a earth shattering kiss.

you moaned helplessly into his mouth, kissing him back with a burning desire that began to consume you both, feeling his warm tongue snake out and brush over your lower lip, begging for entrance.

your lips parted on their own accord, feeling the prince’s tongue slip into your needy mouth, tasting you.

aemond let out a deep groan of satisfaction, tasting how sweet you tasted, like different kinds of berries. he ran his tongue over the roof of your mouth, feeling your tongue slowly brush up shyly against his, as if asking for his permission.

of course, the prince denied you and bit down on your lower lip in punishment, causing you to let out a pained wail in displeasure.

you whined with need, pressing your hips down against his hand, begging for more, more, more.

you’d take whatever the prince would give to you, everything and anything – it was all yours, all you need to do was ask him and aemond would burn cities to ground to see you happy.

aemond quickly slipped in a second deft finger, pumping them both with vigor. the wet sounds your cunt made were loud and lewd, though you paid it little mind.

instantaneously, the prince dragged his lips down to your jaw, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin there.

you dropped your head down, pressing your face into the warmth of the prince’s chest as your body trembled against his. then, you felt his thumb brush over your sensitive clit once more, beginning to rub the little nub in tight circles, causing you to squeal in endless pleasure.

“oh, ohhh – please, don’t stop prince aemond…!” you sobbed, feeling yourself begin to hyperventilate and something inside your belly was starting to tighten almost uncomfortably, making you squirm wildly against him.

aemond chuckled, kissing the top of your head and bringing up the hand that was holding your dress up to your hair, burying his fingers into the soft locks, caressing the back of your head lovingly.

“let go for me, little one. go on, give it to me.”

your small hands that were grasping the prince’s shoulders squeezed rather harshly, and if you were in your right state of mind you would’ve apologized profusely, but right now… you could not even forge a coherent thought.

“please, please – i need.. i need to–“ you choked, suddenly feeling the band that was tightening in your belly snap, an overwhelming feeling of immense pleasure swarming over you, suffocating you.

your breathing was erratic, your head spinning and your eyes squeezed shut as you felt your body be consumed by euphoria.

it was maddening.

“that’s it, my love,” aemond purred from above you, gently stroking the back of your head tenderly, continuing the assault of his skilled fingers.

aemond pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt slowly now, while leisurely rubbing lazy circles into your clit as he felt you come in the palm of his hand, your pleasurable cries like music to his ears.

aemond hummed, “you’re mine now, do you understand? mine – you belong to me.”

you let out pathetic whines, leaning your full weight against the prince uncaringly.

you were too wrapped up in the pleasure he was giving you to really notice.

a few seconds later, you began feeling overstimulated, a displeased sound escaping you, before you pulled your head back and leaned it against the hard stone wall tiredly.

the prince’s fingers continuously fingered you through your high, and the way his thumb pressed into your pulsing clit sent electric shocks throughout your body, causing you to tense up once again.

looking up, you caught the eye of the devilishly handsome prince that towered over you, making you feel small compared to him.

charmingly, he smiled.

of course, the feeling of the stone wall made you frown in annoyance, feeling uncomfortable without the prince’s soft touch in your hair, caressing you. you dropped one of your hands from the prince’s shoulder, grabbing hold of his wrist that was buried under the layers of your maid’s dress.

aemond immediately paused the movements of his hand, though he kept his fingers buried deep inside of you, raising an eyebrow in question.

you sucked in a deep breath, trying to gather as much courage as you possibly could, but bracing yourself for the worse.

finally, you spoke. “…i will not be your whore, prince aemond,” you said, trying to make your voice as even and as firm as possible. however, you could hear your voice shake slightly at the end, cursing yourself for your bashfulness.

a minute of silence passed, the prince’s face completely blank of any emotion, giving you nothing as your eyes glanced over his face back and forth, silently begging to know what he was thinking.

then, out of nowhere, he laughed loudly. the sound almost pleasing to your ears as it echoed off the walls, just as your moans from earlier had.

your eyes went wide in disbelief, wondering if he was laughing at you. you surely hoped not, you’d be terribly disappointed.

as the prince’s laughter slowly died down, he observed you for a moment silently, before his lips curled up into a wicked smile, “no, you will not be my whore,” he hissed crudely, his eye narrowing at you and the blood in his veins bubbling with fire as he looked down at you intensely.

you tried swallowing, but your mouth appeared dry, waiting for his words. without warning, the prince leaned down once again and crashed his lips against yours, claiming you and causing you to release a pleased sound.

the prince wanted you to be his, truly his.

you couldn’t help the fluttering feeling in your chest, as well as the nervous butterflies swarming in your belly at the thought that maybe… just maybe, the prince would give you what you both desired more than anything – each other.

the prince’s lips met yours in a needy, frenzied kiss, wanting to possess all of you.

you were his, he had to make you see that now.

aemond pulled away from you abruptly, watching as you chased after his lips, causing him to smirk. he shook his head, “no,” he repeated, his voice deep and his eye dark as he looked down at your pretty, blissed out face.

mine, he thought.

“you will not be my whore, my sweet. you will be my wife.”

fin

feel free to send in requests / thots here.

#◜ 𝗇𝗈𝖺’𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 ˚✧ ꜝ #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond smut #aemond fluff #prince aemond #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd s1 #hotd

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sister-cna-reader · 1 year

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DC x DP

“Do you know anyone willing to date a ghost-touched woman over 6ft tall?”

Barbara Gordon blinked slowly at the lanky teenager who asked the question. His arms were full of astronomy books and he was leaning in close as if it was a serious question.

“It depends? I’m a librarian, not a matchmaker.” she replied, holding her hands out for the books to scan. “Why are you asking? It’s an awfully specific criteria.”

Daniel Nightingale was the name of the boy before her. Just registered in the library system a little under 3 months ago. 17 years old and with that black hair, sky blue eyes and scars on the hand partially covered by a fingerless glove- Wayne adoption bait.

“My older sister is great and all.” he said, fidgeting with his sleeves, “But I think she needs to live a little you know? She’s so.. So….” he made a compressing motion with his hands, like packing a snowball.

“Repressed?” Barbara suggested, scanning the book on the Hubble Telescope.

With a snap of his fingers he grinned. “Exactly! Now if only I could find a guy for her that is ghost-touched…” he muttered under his breath.

“What do you mean by ‘ghost- touched’?”

“Oh you know,” he mimicked the paddles of a defibrillator, “Clear!” he chuckled.

Did this lady have a heart attack? Heart problems?

“I died but it didn’t stick, so someone who is like me would be good. Then we wouldn’t have to explain the whole thing.”

“Oh, I see.” the redhead said, not understanding much at all. “Due date for the books is in one month. I’ll keep an eye out for your sister?”

Danny nodded and gathered all the books into a beat up backpack. “You can’t miss her. Long red hair, super tall, looks like she’ll either have a nervous breakdown or murder someone if you bump into her.”

Barbara could only nod in agreement to the boy as he seemed to float out of Gotham Public Library.

Jazz was ready to shove her little not-quite-dead brother into the Fenton Thermos. She was doing well at her counseling position at the University, but Danny had insisted that her newfound hours of free time should be used in romantic pursuits.

“If you had friends you hung out with I won’t pester you. But Jazz! You need to do something fun!” He had said from the kitchen counter, hair glowing and eyes like two green beacons. “Live a little! We’re already part dead! Let go!”

So she trudged her way to the Public Library. If she had to get out of the house to shut her brother up, she’d at least be an introvert about it.

Jazz put on her best pleasant face and made her way to the librarian’s desk to get registered.

The woman behind the counter was like looking into a warped mirror. Glasses, hair just a shade brighter, and eyes the wrong color looked back at her in mirrored surprise.

“Bad hair day?” the mirror image guessed, pointing at the slouchy hat and messy bun that contained the mass of copper hair that Jazz hadn’t cut in the last year.

“Uh yeah. Little brother was pestering me about going out, so I’m here for a library card.” Jazz rambled, doing her best to not play with the strap of her purse.

“I’m Barbara, and welcome to Gotham Public Library!” The woman smiled warmly.

When Jazz handed over her ID for Barbara to input the required information in the database the lady smirked. “I met your brother a few days ago actually. Tall, scrawny, likes space?”

Jazz groaned. “I’m so sorry about him.”

The librarian’s glasses were white from the monitor. “Oh don’t worry about it, I know how younger siblings are. They mean well, they’re just annoying about it.”

Card squared away, Jazz went in search of a quiet corner to read a trashy romance novel in.

Jason took his rare day off to visit the Library. He was also going to drop off a coffee for Barbara, and maybe sweet talk some info out of her.

He needed some blackmail to lord over some birds.

“Jason! How good to see you in the daylight! Oh! Coffee! Gimmie,” his favorite tech person greeted.

Coffee offering made, Jason and Barbara traded information.

“You should take a load off.” She suggested, waving him away towards the adult fiction shelves as some patrons came to check out. “See you at dinner Sunday!”

The building was warm today, rare sunlight coming through the skylights and windows, making his leather jacket too hot to wear indoors. And there was nothing else pressing on his schedule today, so why not read a bit?

Austen novel in hand, Jason made his way to his favorite reading nook. Instead of the two empty armchairs he’d push together into a lounge, there was a woman already there, firmly in the ray of sun that made her red hair look like fire.

Her long legs were stretched out, boots cluncking together in a slow rhythm as she read.

“Oh,”

Bright green eyes startled and looked at him dead in the eyes. He blinked, and they were no longer green but a calming ocean blue.

“Sorry,” she said, folding her legs back to let him pass.

“Nah, it’s okay, I kind of want to soak in some sun too. Mind sharing?” Jason offered, fully prepared to leave the tall amazon alone. But deep down he felt something warm and grow fuzzy.

“Sure,” she scooted her chair over and pulled the other closer so they both shared the spot of sun. “I’m Jazz.”

He sat down next to her and the scent of her shampoo reminded him of the herby bread that Alfred made with soup. She stretched out again and he realized that her legs were much longer then his.

“I’m Jason.”

Inside the pit barely rippled.

Her phone beeped and she opened the beat-up thing to scoff. “Danny for Ancient’s sake,” she typed something out only for another beep to immediately reply.

Jason frowned. “Danny your boyfriend?”

Blue eyes met him in an exasperated roll. “No. He's just a little brother who can’t mind his own business. Now he wants a selfie to prove ‘I’m not alone being a cave troll.’ Just a sec.”

She started to angle away to send a picture of her flipping off the phone, but Jason pulled her closer and let his arm be visible around her shoulders in the selfie. He hadn’t thought, just acted.

There was a surprising amount of muscle under that sweater.

The pit purred in pleasure and Jason wanted to melt into the floor.

Jazz giggled, her smile showing teeth that were just a little too sharp. “Oh he’ll be happy with this I think. Only thing that would be better is if you had a big black motorcycle. That’d send him through the roof.”

His breath hitched. The sun must’ve been too hot, and he felt himself grow warm under that bright smile.

“Would a black and red motorcycle do?” Was this flirting? Was he flirting? Was it working? He hoped it was working.

Those eyes lit up again and she tossed the book onto the chair, towering over him. “That’s perfect. He hates the idea of me on a motorcycle with a biker boyfriend.”

Jason stood up and tossed his jacket to Jazz with a feral smile. “Let’s get you some pictures riding a motorcycle my lady.”

The pit crowed in happiness, a rare thing when not caused by blood or murder. He made sure to get a few pictures of her on his bike with his own phone before remembering it should really be on Jazz’s phone, to send to Jazz’s brother.

Not wanting the fun time to end, he put his helmet in her hands. “I know a good burger joint. Want to stay out late? See some sights?”

He was so focused on the redhead woman in his leather jacket straddling his bike, he forgot about the other redhead with access to the security cameras.

#dp x dc prompt #anger manegment #jason todd #jasmine fenton #Jason/Jazz #danny phantom #Liminal Jazz #if I write more it'll go up on Ao3

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bug-bites · 11 days

Text

batfam beach episode?? real not clickbait no glue no borax??

cw: nothing! pure vacation beach fluff (p≧w≦q) also barely proofread,,,

pairing: gn!reader x batfam (NOT ALL AT ONCE.)

characters: dick grayson, jason babygirl todd, cassandra cain, tim drake, damian wayne (all intended to be interpreted as either romantic or platonic unless its damian. ik in some comic runs he's like an adult but hes like permanently 12 in my head and i dont fw that :/)

a/n: im back with a new dc obsession tee hee (soz to everyone who wanted more abt the cod guys or spiderverse im comicsmaxxing and redhoodpilled) will probably make a part 2 w/ bruce, babs, steph, and duke eventually :3c

Dick Grayson haha dick

oh he loves the beach so much

the sand beneath his feet make him feel nostalgic from when he would practice tumbling with his parents in the circus ring i think there's sand in circus rings right? I dunno someone fact check me on that one

the victim of being buried in the sand, always asks for a mermaid tail but ends up with something like massive sand tits (courtesy of either tim or jason), he laughs it off anyways

somehow gets the worst tan lines. He wore a swim shirt one time and never again because the tan lines looked SO BAD which is a total shame because he tans gorgeously

will beg to do play shoulder wars i have no clue if this is the right name, again fact check me for this thing where you get a piggyback ride from someone and you try to knock someone whos also getting a piggyback ride over in the water

you’re on his shoulders since bro is strong asf and you square up against tim and damian

obviously you lose because hello that's damian wayne we are talking about but at least its fun!!

cass and jason are forever the undefeated champions of shoulder wars though, that goes without saying

Cassandra Cain

shes always seen beach episodes in animes that damian practically dragged her into watching so when she gets to actually go to a beach she is so excited peak sibling bonding is dragging your siblings into your interests

loves building sandcastles and writing things in the sand, watching it get washed away, and then do it all over again

hold her hand and jump over waves together on the shore and she will be the giggliest and happiest human being alive on planet earth

but out of all the beach activities she loves beach volleyball

shes actually scarily good at beach volleyball for someone who has never played volleyball before

dick thought it would be fun to teach her and have a friendly match between him and bruce vs you and cass

yeah bruce and dick were COOKED. huffing and puffing like they have a vendetta against the three little pigs at the end of it while cass is like “this is so fun, lets go again!”

ends the day with a little sunset stroll along the shore i need her so bad you do not understand please bbyg ill treat u soooo well

Jason Todd

beaches are fun on paper for him, in person not so much

PERSONAL HC INCOMING! He gets migraines after the lazarus pit so he can only have so much fun before needing to lie face down with his head covered with a beach towel to make everything less overwhelming or he wears sunglasses the entire time

he brings a book to read at the beach and stays in the shade the entire time yes he is that bitch

usually at home in the comfort of his little library he likes to read things that have an impact on him or just stuff that makes him want to analyze deeper. think books like frankenstein, lord of the flies, all quiet on the western front, just generally heavier stuff

but his vacation books? totally different. usually something super light, maybe a shitty romance book that you find in walmart which are clearly just results of book packaging, or a some booktok recommendation he got for shits and giggles because it just was so laughably bad, maybe even a childhood feel-good book like percy jackson or the little prince (mostly just books he would not grieve over if sand permanently got in between the pages)

he tried reading a colleen hoover book once and honest to God wanted to toss it into the ocean HE WOULD HATE HER BOOKS AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL

but out of everything he likes watching you enjoy yourself, his book wasnt that important anyways. show him that funky sand dollar you found or that really cool piece of seaglass, he’s probably gonna bring it home with him. a little keepsake along with the millions of grains of sand that never seem to go away

Tim Drake

Burns so easily

At first its kinda cute, like hes asking you to help him get that spot on his back he just cant seem to reach and its just a little sweet moment between you two as you rub the sunscreen into his sore muscles

But then it happens again. And again. And again to the point when he goes up to you, you automatically reach for the tube of SPF 100+

I just know his vitamin d deficiency goes crazy

Leaves the beach looking like a lobster, sunburnt, a crazy bump on his head from getting hit with a volleyball, and some god awful sunglasses tan lines

Overall, beach activities are not really his thing bros job is NAWT beach

Enjoys the boardwalk a lot more than the beach itself, likes the touristy stuff but still goes to the beach because dick loves it and he loves his older brother :(

Damian Wayne

i feel like he wouldn’t care too much for typical beach stuff. like at every beach that has sand and decently clean water you can do most beach activities

one thing that is never 100% consistent at all beaches is what lives on the beaches. this boy will spend hours staring into tidepools

bruce was lowk concerned because his son did not gaf about normal beach activities that kids do but eventually he reached a point where he was like "i mean at least hes having fun and being safe"

i feel like talia would always show him books of sea creatures when he was little but he never ended up being able to see them in their natural habitat someone take this boy to an aquarium now

tells you fun facts about each creature you come across

will scold you if you take a shell from the beach, definitely says some shit like “how would you feel if someone ran into your house and just took your bed?” based though, leave shells at the beach yall! taking them is like bad for the ecosystem

brings his notebook around and has little sketches of the sea creatures

even though typical beach activities arent his favourite, he doesnt hate it. he likes that he can catch a break from all the vigilante stuff and spend time with his family as a family and not just as a team

loves scuba diving. idk it just somehow makes sense and i think he would look really stupid in a wet suit

also i feel like he would never mention it but in his mind hes fully thinking "this is just like a beach episode" but he would rather die than say it out loud FUCKING NERDDD

319 notes · View notes

drawlfoy · 9 months

Text

the benefits of journaling p.1

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: she/her pronouns/reader that stays in the girl's dorms, language, eventual discussion of murder and whatnot but not yet!, you being a little femcel-aligned/obsessed, tom being awkward because he's been stuck in a diary without talking to anyone for 50 years, i fumble around trying to explain how to brew potions after taking only one semester of high school biology

please note that this tom riddle is definitely not the same tom riddle that dumbledore describes in canon. i read a few meta posts that rewired my brain and now my tom riddle is ~complicated~ and not just evil and murdery for the plot. so just keep that in mind lol

a/n: whoa is this....something other than draco on this blog? yes. im suffering right now and needed to get this out. hopefully i can get this longfic completed within 2-3 parts! i'm not using my usual taglist because i don't know how many of my draco readers want this

wc: 10k

The day you unknowingly bought a part of the late Lord Voldemort’s soul was like any other. It was overcast, the thick clouds a somber, humid ceiling hanging above you and Lucy as you made your way through the annual antiques sale in a dusty corner of Diagon Alley.

“Y/N,” said your companion for the day—a slight, freckled witch with mushroom brown waves and a perpetual smile etched into her mouth. “Look. This is so you.”

You looked up from the bookshelves of one of the stands. It took you a moment to see what she was holding, but once it came into focus, you rolled your eyes. “Oh, sod off. Not funny.”

Lucy just cackled, tossing the crudely carved wooden snake back onto the pile wearing a wicked grin.

The world is cruel in that you can scream once when you see Draco Malfoy’s pet ball python in third year and no one ever lets you forget it.

You turned away from Lucy, looking back to the old bookshelf that had been moved onto the cobbled street. The rich mahogany wood was close to buckling under the weight of all the tomes stacked haphazardly atop each other—far more than would be advisable.

But it wasn’t just the furniture that caught your eye. No, it was the glimpse of a black spine on the bottom, partially hidden away by an ancient encyclopedia on arithmancy.

You knelt, carefully arranging your robes so that they wouldn’t pick up dust from the street. You narrowly managed to avoid sending all the books on top tumbling into the street by slowly sliding it out from under the stack.

An unimpressively sized black journal laid in your hand, looking entirely unassuming and incredibly boring.

You frowned. A quick flip-through confirmed that it was in fact a journal—and that there was nothing written in it.

Why would someone try to sell an unused journal at an antiques market? You wondered, turning it over in your hand. Though its pages appeared entirely pristine, you could see some wear on the cover. There were no markings detailing when it had been manufactured.

It could very well have been an antique journal, you conceded. But why anyone would want an empty journal made years ago was beyond you.

You went to set the journal back onto the stack, getting so far as to nearly loosen your grip and let it drop from your fingers, when—

You had to buy this journal.

You weren’t sure why, or how. You just knew that this journal was coming home with you today, even if it was the least interesting thing you could’ve come across in your shopping trip.

“What’s that?” asked Lucy, appearing at your side and gently taking the journal from you.

“Just an empty journal, I think,” you answered, staring blankly at it in her hands.

“You know we can just get a normal new one at the bookstore, right?”

“Well, I like this one,” you heard yourself say. “It has…character.”

“Character.” She snorted, holding it up next to her face. “This is the most bland looking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Consider yourself blind, then. Surely they’ll charge you twice the cost for this since it’s allegedly ‘vintage’.” Lucy made liberal use of air quotes. “You sure you don’t want to stop by the bookstore before we go? It’ll be on our way.”

“No, it’s really fine,” you said, taking it back into your hands, “I really like this one for some reason. I don’t know. There’s just something about it.”

Lucy tilted her head, giving it one last odd look. “Whatever you say. You go check out, then. Mum’s going to expect me back soon and the queue looks a bit long.”

The journal sat in your bag for the remainder of the summer, nearly forgotten as you went about your day. You opened it for the first time to examine it on August 31st, just a day before you were off to begin your 6th year.

There was writing that you hadn’t noticed before—thin, elegant script on the inside of the cover in black lettering. A simple “Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

You stared, letting your finger trace gently across the parchment. There was a slight indentation at the lower swoop of the last letter “L”, like whoever had written it had pressed a little too hard with his quill.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” you whispered, trying the syllables out on your tongue. You’d never heard of any wizard named that before. You wondered how long it had been since those words had been written. You wondered if Tom Marvolo Riddle was still alive, and if he was, why he saw it fit to mark his property and then swiftly lose its custody to an antiques dealer.

Oh well. Sucks to suck, you thought dryly as you took the quill that you’d been using to finish updating your calendar and lifted it over the parchment. Whatever happened to the crusty old dinosaur that hadn’t even been able to make one full entry into his own journal before croaking or whatever was none of your business.

You’d barely started out how you imagined a normal person would begin a diary—a date, August 31st—when it suddenly became clear why this Tom fellow had been unable to leave a lasting mark.

The ink hadn’t even begun to dry before it sank into the pages, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, dumbstruck. You dipped your quill in ink once again and drew a series of short slashes across the first page, using more ink than was strictly necessary.

In a moment it was as if they had never been there.

WHAT??? You wrote mindlessly in the freshly blank page as your mind spun. What kind of magic was this? And what was the point?

No wonder you’d been drawn to it. It was probably dripping in all sorts of charms. Maybe the combination had been unintentionally alluring to particular passerbys.

Before you could think any further, the clean page transformed again, but not at your hand.

Hello.

The word assembled letter by letter, as if a ghost was writing it over your shoulder.

It seems you've found my journal.

You stared. A journal that could write back to you. Huh. A smile caught on your lips as you became glad after all that you’d chosen this one over a plain bookstore version.

How old are you? You wrote, resting your chin in your palm as you waited for a response as to whether or not your new acquisition actually belonged at the antiques market.

Sixteen.

You frowned. That was hardly vintage.

This was made sixteen years ago?

The response appeared quickly..

No. I'm sixteen.

Yeah. You were made sixteen years ago.

This time, the journal seemed to hem and haw at the response.

What year is it? Was the final answer that appeared.

What year do you think?

1943.

A little off. you wrote impishly.

Oh really?

Just a smidge.

Define a smidge, please.

What does it matter to you?

This seemed to stump the journal.

May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking with?

You may not. Then, because you had nothing better to do, you dipped your quill and drew out a Tic-Tac-Toe board, placing an X in the middle.

The board disappeared into the page, and for a moment you wondered if you’d annoyed your magical journal too much. But then it reappeared, this time with an O in the middle.

You huffed. When you took too long to respond, another line appeared below.

I'm Tom. Tom Riddle.

You stared at the letters, the implications sinking in. If the journal had belonged to Tom—who was presumably a real person at some point in his life—then that would mean…which meant…

In seconds you’d slammed the journal shut and had your wand out, poking at the binding and being careful to avoid touching it again with your bare hands. Stupid, stupid you, buying something that had so clearly been engineered to lure you in, just like it probably had done to Tom back in the 40s.

The antique market rarely had issues with unknowingly cursed objects. They were allegedly thoroughly vetted by the stand officials to ensure that something like this didn’t happen. But perhaps this one had fallen through the cracks.

There was nothing you could do for now except to wrap the journal in a blanket and throw it into your suitcase. As a muggleborn, there was going to be no real magic for you until tomorrow on the train.

Better to investigate then, you decided firmly. With access to spellwork, you could at least cast protective wards around yourself and try to detect what exactly was wrong with it the next time you touched it.

Yes, you thought. That cannot possibly go wrong.

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, what was that?” You blearily blinked in the direction of Lucy and Ishan, both sitting there with an expectant look on their faces.

“I was saying that I’m pretty sure that Parkinson and Malfoy are actually together this time,” said Lucy, frowning. “I just came from the loo and his head was in her lap. Revolting, to be entirely honest. I can’t believe I had to see that with my own eyes. But whatever. Are you feeling alright? You keep spacing out.”

“I’m fine.” You pulled the fabric of your robe over your wrist so you could gently scrub at your eyes. “Just—tough night last night. I barely slept.”

“I totally get that,” mused Lucy, nodding as her gaze fixed itself on the window. “I can normally never get to sleep the night before we leave. I just get so excited for the new year.”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

But that hadn’t been your problem. Despite the creepy journal encounter that had left you with your mind spinning, you’d fallen asleep deeply the moment you’d gotten into bed. The issue had been staying asleep after all the dreams you’d had.

You rarely dreamt. When you did and remembered it the next day, it was normally nonsensical and had to do with forgotten final exams or missing a lecture. But last night…last night had been different.

There was a boy. His hair was dark and his face cast mostly in shadow, his voice a tenor that seemed typical to boys in your year. He hadn’t been speaking anything you’d understood, though. The most peculiar, bone-chilling hissing noises came from his mouth as he bowed his head leaned over a vaguely familiar sink.

Even though he wouldn’t acknowledge you, it was as if a channel had been opened between you two, like you could feel his emotions as phantoms within you.

Franticness. Vindictiveness. A thirst for vengeance beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

You sat watching this mysterious dark haired boy from the cobbled floor, feeling the wetness on the stones seep into your robes, climbing up and up until it soaked your skin.

At precisely 4 in the morning, you’d shot awake so distressed that you hadn’t slept a wink after. Needless to say, you were hardly what you’d consider to be well-rested.

The remainder of the train ride and the welcoming feast went on without a hitch. You managed to keep yourself from falling asleep at dinner and even joined in on the cheering for new Ravenclaws. The first years seemed to look younger and younger every year, you noted dully as you cut into the roast on your plate. It was making you feel awfully old.

Sixth year was supposed to be exciting—the year of N.E.W.T.S and figuring out what you’d concentrate in during your final year and getting to go to Hogsmeade without permission. But you hadn’t quite figured out what it was that you wanted to study. Being a muggleborn from a modest upbringing meant that you couldn’t be too frivolous. There was no amateur art or sports or celebrity career in your future. You couldn’t even count on marrying well—or marrying at all, in fact. None of your halfblood or pureblood friends seemed to understand that your family hadn’t already had an engagement arranged for you from the moment you were born. It was hard to look forward to a life that was so cloaked in uncertainty.

That being said, you had more immediate concerns to attend to. Though the journal was tucked safely away in one of your suitcases far away in the Ravenclaw Tower, you couldn’t help but feel its presence. You were itching to get back to your dorm so you could steal away into a corner and begin to inspect it.

Dumbledore finally dismissed the students after a rather uninspiring speech about the importance of dreaming big and staying true to yourself. You all but ran up the stairs, rushing to unpack all of your things.

“Merlin,” noted Padma from her desk. “That excited to move in?”

“I just want to go to bed,” you said, relishing the feeling of casting a spell to quickly stow away your skirts and button ups into your dresser. “Long day.”

“And even longer tomorrow.” Lucy was sitting at her desk, her feet crossed at the ankles. She’d somehow unpacked even quicker than you. “Does everyone have their finalized timetable for the term?”

“I’ve got Potions with Slughorn and Transfiguration with McGonagall on Mondays and Thursdays,” you began, unzipping your last bag and flicking your wand to send your school supplies to your desk. “Divination with Trelawney, Arithmancy with Vector, and Runes with Babbling on Tuesdays and Fridays. And of course the extended lab section on Wednesday for Potions.”

“Which lab section?”

“Morning,” you said. The diary was levitating from your wand now, looking unassuming and very innocent under the golden light of your dorm room. “You?”

“Same,” said Lucy, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re taking N.E.W.T level Divination. Do you hate yourself?”

“It was that or History of Magic.”

She nodded emphatically, turning back to make a marking in her planner.

With the dorm settled into a comfortable silence, you brandished your wand again, peering at the diary in front of you.

There was nothing outwardly sinister about it. When you’d gone over to Ishan’s manor over Easter break last year, he’d shown you some of the (potentially unlawful) darker artifacts that his old pureblood family had in possession. They’d felt dark. This journal didn’t have that syrupy thick feel around it. Its aura felt sparkly, magnetic. Surely it couldn’t have been dark magic. Because all dark magic felt dark, right?

You gulped. You wouldn’t touch it with your bare hands anymore, you reasoned. Just spellwork and using the tip of your wand to maneuver it. Just in case.

Your 5 years of Hogwarts education had left you sorely deficient in useful diagnostic spells, so you dug around in one of your Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks from previous years and found a section on spells to examine magical objects.

Revelo you whispered, feeling the slight jolt of magic as the charm left your wand.

Nothing, It didn’t even glow blue, a sign of magically active objects.

Huh.

You frowned. The slightly more obscure spell you’d heard Snape use once on a student’s suspiciously well-written essay didn’t yield anything either.

“Whatcha doing?’

You nearly screamed, clutching your wand to your chest.

Lucy grinned wickedly as she leaned over your shoulder and reached for your journal. “Ooh, is this that thing you bought at—”

“Don’t touch!” You quickly batted her hand away.

“Sheesh,” said Lucy. “Chill. I wasn’t going to read it or anything. I was just wondering why you were waving your wand at your journal. Secrecy spells?”

“No,” you said. Your heart was racing, “Er—not quite. I actually haven’t written in it, you see,”

“Oh?” Lucy’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Explain the theatrics then?”

A half-baked lie formed at your lips that was about to spill when you stopped yourself. Lucy was your friend. She’d been your best friend since the moment you’d met on the Hogwarts Express during first year. There was no reason to lie.

“It’s so weird!” You motioned towards the diary with your wand. “I buy this, right, because I feel this weird draw to it. And I take it home and try to write in it, and suddenly the book starts writing back.”

“A self-writing journal?”

“Not quite. Maybe. Maybe not, I’m not sure. It’s just—something’s not totally right about it, but I can’t tell if it’s dangerous or not.”

Lucy gave a good natured snort. “A journal? Dangerous? And from old Linda’s stand? Please. I see her going through everything in her inventory. The poor shopboy in charge of vetting items has to answer to her if he slips up. There’s no way anything actually powerful slipped onto the stacks.”

You stuck the tip of your wand under the cover and carefully pried it open, pointing at the lettering on the inside.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” She frowned. “Am I supposed to know that name?”

“I don’t know,” you responded at the swooping lettering. “But the journal talked back like it was Tom. Like, it introduced itself as Tom and said that it was 1943. And it acted like an….I don’t know. It was like it was a real person talking to me.”

“Huh.” You could see the gears slowly turning in Lucy’s head,

“Do you know any detection or diagnostic spells?” you asked. “I tried all the ones that we’ve learned so far and it doesn’t even detect magic. But it has to be cursed, right? If the last owner of this diary got sucked into it?”

Lucy was just beginning to open her mouth when ink began to appear.

It is rather rude to be casting all sorts of spells in my direction without warning.

You jumped. “Jesus Christ. Do you see that?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Lucy, but her eyes were crinkled. “Girl. Don’t worry. If it was dangerous, you’d probably know by now. You’ve had it around you for, what, two months? And you’ve already touched it. It doesn’t feel dark. I don’t think there are any slow burning curses that gradually trap you inside an object. If you’re still alright, you’ll probably stay that way. Maybe you should just ask Tom how he got there?”

“If I start disappearing, do try to keep me in this plane.”

“Noted.”

Nervously, you dipped a quill on your desk into an inkwell, waiting for a moment before thinking up how to word your request. In the meantime, a drop of ink fell to the page. It was quickly swallowed up by the parchment.

Sorry you began. Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to trap me in there with you or something

An understandable concern

“Just ask him the bloody question,” said Lucy, hitting your shoulder. “I want to go to bed.”

“Right, right.”

If you'd like me to stop with the spells, maybe you could tell me how you ended up in here in the first place

“Nice,” said Lucy. She was nodding thoughtfully. “Very smooth.”

It took a long time for Tom’s answer to appear despite the fact that your writing had almost instantly disappeared. Finally, black ink began to rise.

It was an accident. Nothing that can be replicated by you, however. There's no need to worry. I fooled around with the wrong book in the school library.

“School library?” Lucy leaned closer so that the locks of her hair dangled over your shoulder. “Ask him if he went to Hogwarts.”

Hogwarts? You wrote quickly.

Yes.

In your sixth year?

Yes.

“Ooh.” Lucy hit your shoulder. “Maybe you can use this to get comfortable talking to boys, Y/N.”

You scoffed, blushing a hot red. “Excuse me! I’ve told you. I’m too busy for that.”

“Uh huh.” She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. “Well, I think you should just keep it. It’s harmless. Like I said, it’s from one of the tamest parts of Diagon Alley. And you wouldn’t be able to get anything genuinely dark into Hogwarts. The wards would’ve detected it. Have fun with it.”

“Have fun with it?”

Lucy shrugged, bouncing once as she settled down on her bed. “I dunno. Think about it. I think a responding diary could be fun. Let’s say I’m not around to gossip one day. You have another outlet. Or maybe you could use him to help you study or something. Really, the possibilities are endless.”

“True.” You mulled over the thought as you let your wand sit on its stand on your desk. Tentatively you grasped the soft leather of the journal and pulled it nearer to you. Tom was waiting for your response, after all.

Me too you wrote.

And you still won't tell me your name?

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to tell him my name?” you asked Lucy, whipping around.

She set down her book and shook her head. “What’s he gonna do with it? He’s stuck in there.”

Y/N.

A splotch of black appeared on the other end, but it was quickly crossed out.

How did you find me?

Antiques sale in Diagon Alley

I'm an antique?

Given that 1943 was over 50 years ago, yes

Nothing from Tom.

Is that not what you expected? You added.

I'm not sure

Just as you were about to close the journal and head to bed, Tom wrote again.

And how are you liking your time at Hogwarts?

It's nice. Fall term starts tomorrow.

You thought about leaving it there, but for some reason the words began to spill out of you.

It does feel weird being so close to graduating, though. I don’t know quite what it is that I want to do yet.

Oh? But surely you must have some idea.

You pressed the end of your quill to your lips, debating whether or not to share it with this mysterious Tom. In the end, Lucy’s previous comment was what made the scales tip. What did it matter? Tom wasn’t going to tell anyone.

I would really like to go for a cursebreaking mastery abroad, but that hinges on what happens in my N.E.W.Ts this year. I need an O in Potions.

I was taking N.E.W.T Potions at the time that I was trapped, Tom wrote. Perhaps I can be of assistance.

I can’t ask that of you.

Please do. It’s terribly boring being all alone in here.

You swallowed, watching the ink slowly sink back into nothing.

What do you mean? What’s it like being trapped?

It took a while for a response to form.

Quiet. You’re the first visitor I’ve ever had. I’m still in Hogwarts, technically, but there’s no one else here.

I’m sorry you found yourself writing before you could stop yourself. That sounds very lonely.

I don’t mind being lonely. It does get a bit dull, though.

“Luce,” you said, leaning over the back of your desk chair. “He just offered to help me with Potions.”

“See? Useful.”

I've got to go to bed now. First day of classes and whatnot.

Best of luck

Can you sleep where you are?

I don’t need to but I can

The words chilled you somewhat, but you pushed the feeling away.

Well, goodnight you wrote.

Goodnight

How were classes?

The ink appeared the moment you flipped open the journal. It was already two weeks into term, and you’d written to Tom nearly every night. You were curled up in bed, your blankets pulled heavy around your lap and your pajamas clean and smelling of lavender. A mug of tea lay steaming on your bedside table, its tendrils barely visible in the dim golden light of the candle you’d lit.

As expected you wrote, yawning. How was your day?

Oh, you know. Thrilling.

You snorted.

“What are you giggling about?” Lucy’s voice snapped you back into reality. You looked up to see her peeking over the textbook in her lap, a smirk etched deeply into her lips.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but the way you slammed the journal shut gave it away.

“Talking to your fake boyfriend, huh?” teased Lucy.

“I’m not even going to answer that.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s a fucking journal. It’s not like he’s real.”

“Didn’t he say he was trapped in there?”

You huffed. “I guess. He seems to have accepted his position in life, though. It’s not like he’s begging for help.”

“No,” agreed Lucy. “But just think about it. What if you did manage to get him out? How romantic would that be?”

“Oh my god, shut up!”

Lucy ducked away from the pillow you lobbed in her direction, cackling maniacally all the way.

There you are. I thought I’d bored you.

The words reappeared within seconds of you reopening the journal. You tried to smother the way your lips turned upwards at the sight.

Sorry you wrote back, hoping that Lucy was sufficiently distracted with her textbook and would give you a rest for the night. A friend wanted to talk.

Does this friend know about me?

You held your quill to your lips for a moment before you wrote back.

Yes. She loves to tease over how much time I spend writing to you

I take it she doesn’t understand

Quite the contrary. She’s the one who encouraged me to write to you in the first place, in fact.

How so?

Something about how it would be nice to be able to tell my secrets to someone who could never tell anyone else

Tom’s response took a bit longer to appear this time around.

Oh? Any you’d like to share now?

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at the drying ink.

You first.

For a minute, you thought that maybe Tom had disappeared. The parchment remained blank and clean. Maybe he’d gotten bored with you and had gone off to…whatever he did in his empty version of Hogwarts.

Then the lettering appeared again.

I used to have a pet snake when I was a child. I was an orphan, you see, and the other children thought that I was too strange to play with. I was terribly lonely. The matron took us to the beach once, and I found this little grass snake in the weeds. I stuck it in my pocket and took it back to the orphanage with me.

You lived in a muggle orphanage?

Yes. Obviously. Once I was amongst magicfolk, people did find me quite charming.

Why’d you pick a snake?

I liked having someone—or something, I suppose—to talk to.

You stared as the ink sunk back into nothing. Talk. Snakes. Talking?

Are you a Parselmouth?

I’ve already given a secret Tom wrote. Your turn.

Will you answer if I give you one?

That’s only fair.

Secrets—you barely had those. You’d grown up sharing nearly everything with Lucy since you’d been paired up in first year Charms class.

Not losing your nerve, are you?

I’m just thinking you quickly wrote back. I don’t have many secrets.

Surely you do.

This isn’t a very exciting secret. Heat rose to your cheeks as your quill scratched against the paper. But I haven’t told anyone this.

Go on.

I can’t tell anyone this because they’ll think I’m annoying. I do really well in classes. But I feel like I’m never going to be smart enough. It seems like nothing that I ever do will be enough to stand out

I understand more than you know

What do you mean?

I was sorted into Slytherin. Coming from such a modest background meant that I had to prove that I was worth the space I was taking up

A swell of…something rose in you as you stared down at the paper. You tried to imagine this mysterious Tom in the familiar green robes that you saw every day in Potions, scrunching his nose up over a book and studying hard. All alone—motivated by the knowledge that no one was rooting for his success—knowing that there was no name he could depend on to cover even one misstep—

You blinked. Whoa. That was some serious projection.

I can’t really tell this to anyone else. All of my friends come from influential pureblood families, so they just don’t get why I don’t get to make mistakes or slip up. They think I’m so uptight

Exactly. They all have safety nets. The grades, the house points, the prefect badges—those are all just surface level. It’s your name that gets you anywhere important

“You’re looking mighty serious over there,” said Lucy from over her textbook. “Trouble in paradise?”

You laughed tightly. “Er, no. Just talking.”

“Uh huh.”

I always feel like it’s evidence that I don’t belong when I don’t immediately understand something in class you add into the journal. To your horror, tears started pricking at your eyes. None of your friends were muggleborns. You’d never been able to voice these things out loud—or on paper, in this case. Writing it all out seemed so sad now. Like today in Runes. It took me longer than usual to understand a translation technique for this ridiculous slate from the Middle Ages. I had to talk myself down from believing that I’m faking it and that everyone else doesn’t even need to try

Is Babbling still there?

Yes. She’s still teaching

She was already too old to be coherent when she was teaching me wrote Tom. Tell me, do you have to rennervate her throughout the lesson to keep her present?

She was old back then???

Ancient.

I can’t believe she’s still alive. You chewed on your lip as you thought. She’s practically a fossil.

Do you think of me like that? Old?

Would it make you feel better if I said I considered you vintage?

I’m wounded

“Fucking get to the library and start researching ways to pull that poor boy out of there,” said Lucy from her bed, “Or stop giggling like that. Merlin. You’re killing me. You’re practically twirling your hair.”

“Shut up!” Slowly, you opened the journal back up after slamming it closed.

Your friend again?

Yes you scribbled back. She’s teasing me again about how I should try to get you out of here. Which I’m assuming is impossible, since I’m doubtful you’re even a real person

I’m very real

Your blood cooled.

Then why haven’t you asked me to get you out?

A pause—just long enough for you to feel suspicious.

I’ve gotten quite used to my little home in here wrote Tom finally. And forgive me if I believe it a bit forward to immediately demand the first person to which I speak to orchestrate my extraction.

Extraction. Interesting word choice, you thought.

How polite. Part of you was beginning to feel the slightest bit uneasy. And what would this so-called extraction entail?

That I haven’t quite figured out yet. The response was instantaneous. Ever since we’ve met I’ve been returning to the library in hopes of finding an answer.

Which book trapped you in here?

Another pause.

I sincerely doubt it’s still in print wrote Tom. It was a very dangerous book with dark, terrible magic. I had no business digging around in it. I paid the price dearly.

He refused to elaborate.

You spent the entire weekend digging through the Restricted Section, paging through every book you could imagine that had anything to do with Tom’s situation.

Nothing. Nada. Zero. You tried every querying spell you could think of. You were desperate enough to recruit Madam Pince by telling her that you were writing a paper for a class and needed to find anything there was on getting yourself trapped in magical objects. What she did dig up was at best irrelevant—tales of ill-executed Animagi rituals that resulted in the wizard getting stuck in their animal form and reports of interactions with cursed objects sending the users into a different dimension, never to be heard from again.

But as you were leaving the library on Sunday night, feeling downtrodden and profoundly disappointed, you saw something that caught your eye: the Alumni section.

It was one of those things that you always passed by without another thought. No classwork required students to reference previous Hogwarts attendees. It existed largely to appease the old families by nodding to their longstanding presence in Hogwarts, and the only friends who you had ever seen in this part of the library were purebloods curious about their ancestry. As a muggleborn, this was predictably unrelatable. There’d been no person of interest waiting for you in the old, dusty books that were shoved neatly into chronological order, no long-lost ancestor or namesake.

Not until now.

The click of your oxfords against the dark hardwood echoed as you came to a stop in front of the stacks. Every yearbook was the color of that school year’s House Cup winner, and the one with 1943-1944 on the thin spine was a rich, loud red. It slid easily from the shelf—which was a relief, because occasionally older books required permission to handle and were thus unremovable—and settled gently in your hands.

For a second you pondered leaving the aisle and finding a table to crack it open and savor the moment, but the thought of having to explain why you were looking at the 1943 class yearbook would be embarrassing. Doubly so if Lucy found you—she’d never let you hear the end of it. So, case closed. You’d open it here.

Oh god. You swallowed and used the cuff of your free sleeve to wipe the bead of sweat that had formed on your forehead. This was a terrible idea—or was it? Maybe he wouldn’t be your type. Yes, maybe he’d look just like someone who annoyed you in class or he’d have poorly kept hair or he’d have a creepy smile. Then you could stop thinking about—that.

And that shouldn’t even matter! You squeezed your eyes shut to dispel the thought. It was all Lucy’s fault for teasing you so much about him being your sort-of-weird-ghost boyfriend—part of you was starting to pretend like that was real. And it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It didn’t matter that no boy before had managed to make you this excited to talk to them. It didn’t matter that he got you like no one else in this castle seemed to. It didn’t, because as of present he was actually a journal and not a corporeal being.

In short, you reminded yourself harshly, you were checking this yearbook to verify that a Tom Marvolo Riddle did in fact exist and attended Hogwarts during the time period he claimed. That was it—nothing more.

Nervously, you let the cover flip open and began to card through the thick pages. Moving pictures of entirely unfamiliar students greeted you, flashing past your eyes. First years, second years, third years, fourth years…

You paused before turning from the fifth year page to the sixth, overwhelmed with the thought that whatever you saw was going to change the way you saw your interactions with the diary. If he wasn’t there, you’d need to re-evaluate how safe this whole diary scenario was. You’d need to go back and reconsider if anything you’d heard from him was ever the actual truth. And if he was…

You swallowed. You couldn’t pretend like you hadn’t been imagining what he’d look like on nights that you struggled to fall asleep. There was never a face you could settle on. Whenever you’d spin up something in your mind’s eye, the features would shift and morph into something entirely different before you could enjoy it.

But it didn’t matter—it couldn’t matter, because it was crazy that you’d even been fantasizing about a potentially make-believe boy who only existed in a worn diary.

You turned the page, and Tom Marvolo Riddle stared right back at you.

Tom looked every bit of what you’d expect a Slytherin prefect to be like. Everything about him was neat, orderly, and intentional, from the tidy robes to the obediently shaped dark waves atop his head that looked tragically soft. The only thing out of place was a single piece of black hair, dangling temptingly in the middle of his forehead.

His lips were drawn into a polite almost smile, his image almost entirely still save for the slight bob of his throat that repeated as the image replayed, over and over again.

Tom was pretty—much prettier than you ever could’ve thought up on your own. He looked unreal, like he’d been sculpted by some higher being’s hand with the express purpose of being devastatingly ethereal.

And he’d been talking to you. Connecting with you. And he was real. The weight of your satchel over your shoulder reminded you that he was right there. All it’d take was a quill and some ink to speak to him again.

The picture had repeated its loop one final time before you closed the book shut and pushed it back onto the shelf, hearing the pounding of your heart the whole way.

When you wrote to him that night, you tried your best to keep yourself imagining how he’d look writing back. Would he smile when he saw that you’d opened the journal? Would he laugh at your (admittedly stupid) jokes?

September turned into October which tilted into November with such speed that you could barely breathe. Time barreled ahead as classes sped up, assignments piled on, and each day became just another challenge to survive.

Tom remained one of the few constants in your life, alongside Lucy and Ishan. It was concerning how much you’d come to confide in him, telling him things that you’d never dare to share with anyone else. You told him about the little accomplishments that you could never bring up to your friends, like Professor Snape insulting everyone’s potion except yours and what McGonagall wrote on your most recent paper, calling it one of the most well-researched essays she’d gotten from a N.E.W.T level student. You even told him how Lucy occasionally got on your nerves and how it made you feel like a bad friend.

He was a good listener and an even better conversationalist. When he wasn’t being your confidant, he was more than happy to indulge any academic topics of interest. You spent hours going back and forth, debating the content of the news headlines that you’d tell him about each day.

With time, the memory of Tom’s face and intimidatingly good looks faded to the back of your mind. You’d barred yourself from going back into the Alumni section in the library lest you felt inspired to crack open his yearbook again and remind yourself just how attractive your imaginary friend had been when he’d been alive. If you did that, then you’d start fantasizing about a future where you invented some sort of way to pull him out, and that was just silly. You had exams, and Tom didn’t seem particularly rushed in leaving his journal—or he’d at least come to accept that he’d never leave.

Despite this new normality you’d built around the strangeness of the journal, some things still felt tense. You’d grown comfortable with Tom—arguably more comfortable with him than nearly anyone else, save for maybe Lucy, since you couldn’t ever imagine opening up the journal and telling him all about the fact that it was your time of the month and detailing exactly how your cramps were making you feel—but there was this underlying sense of anticipation. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. You just knew that things couldn’t be like this forever. Something had to give.

In the end, it was Professor Snape who started it. He’d looked down at your cauldron and said something about how your Draught of Living Death base was the most elementary thing he’d ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon and that you were lucky to even be allowed into the class, and something inside you broke.

You’d tried so hard on that potion. You’d followed the instructions to a T. You’d diced everything evenly and stirred it with the precision of a muggle performing brain surgery. Potions had never been your best subject, and you tried to make up for it by trying harder than everyone else. Normally it worked, but N.E.W.T potions was something else.

Tom was taking longer than usual to respond to this particular soliloquy that night, a few letters surfacing before he scribbled them out.

I know this might seem scary he finally wrote. I’ll understand if this frightens you too much. But I think that I may be able to help.

What do you mean, scary? Are you a mean tutor or something?

I mean that I can show you how to brew that Draught Tom replied.

Show me?

If my research is correct, it’s possible that I can temporarily cross you over into my world.

Your heart thudded, your hands suddenly clammy.

“Lucy?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Lucy tossed her book onto her desk and turned to face you. “Oh no. Did something happen? You look awful.”

“Gee. Thanks.” You swallowed. “Er—sort of? I was writing to Tom about how crazy Potions class was today and he told me that he could help me. Like actually tutor me.”

“Is that not a good thing?”

Your mouth was dry. “No. That’s not it. He means like, tutor me tutor me. In person. He says he can cross me over into his world temporarily.”

Lucy froze.

“I have to say no, right?” It was so, so stupid that you were asking that. Of course you had to say no. There was no telling what he could do to you if you said yes. Maybe he was actually a demon that was attempting to possess you. Maybe he was going to eat your soul and use your body as a husk to feed on the other students and—

“I mean, probably not.” She thoughtfully pressed the top of her quill to her mouth. “Think about it. You guys have been in contact for months and nothing supernatural has happened. We already came to the conclusion that the journal isn’t dark magic because the wards would’ve kept it out.”

“But what if I get stuck with him? I haven’t been able to find anything about this type of magic before. I don’t know how it works.”

Lucy hummed. Then realization flickered across her features. “Hang on. I think I have something that might help.”

She dug around in one of her desk drawers until she produced a small spool of half-used thread. It was golden in color but so thin it was nearly iridescent.

“What’s that?” you asked, squinting at it.

“It’s Invisible String,” said Lucy, already rolling it out and pulling it around your wrist. It was pleasantly warm against your skin, like it’d just been sitting out in the sun. As soon as it made contact with your body, it disappeared. “It used to be used for Ministry Employees who used Time Turners. Whoever is on the other end of the thread is able to pull the wearer back to this reality and this timeline. It’s very useful in avoiding nasty time related incidents. My dad took home a bunch of spools when Time Turners were officially outlawed. He taught me how to apparate with them since it can also work over long distances in the same reality—just in case I did something stupid.”

“Wow,” you breathed, staring down at your wrist. There was nothing to stare at, of course. It was already gone. But it was an ingenious little contraption, probably charmed so many times with such obscure and rare spells that it would go for thousands of galleons if you tried to buy it yourself.

The perks of having a rich pureblood best friend, you supposed.

“As long as I’m holding the other end, I’ll be able to bring you back,” explained Lucy, holding the spool up demonstratively. “So, go for it. If that’s your only hold-up, I think you should go meet him. If anything, at least it’ll help your Potions grade.”

You turned your attention back to the journal, worrying your lip for a second before you dipped your quill in the inkwell and wrote out Ok.

“This is so exciting,” said Lucy from over your shoulder. “You have to tell me everything when you get back.”

“If I can come back.”

She dangled the spool in front of you. “I’ll make sure of that. If you’re not back by curfew, I’ll yank you back to this reality by myself.”

“Right.” Anxiety began to build in your middle, bubbling up until you were sure you were trembling.

This might feel a bit uncomfortable was all Tom wrote before you were suddenly falling into a void.

When the inertia faded and light slowly bled back into your vision, you were sprawled on the floor of a Potions classroom that you’d been in when you were a second year. Tom Riddle stood tidily a few feet away from you, wearing the same formal school robes you’d seen on him in the yearbook.

“Hello.” His voice was proper and measured. It fit him perfectly, but the fact that you were finally hearing him speak for the first time made you feel something that was highly inadvisable.

“Hi.”

For a moment, you just stared right back into his eyes as the silence closed in around you and the gravity of your situation sunk in. You’d really done it now, hadn’t you? As if to comfort you, the thread around your wrist warmed against your skin.

“Don’t worry,” said Tom, like he could already tell what you were thinking.“You won’t be trapped. It’s me who’s bound to this world.”

“And how are you so sure of that?”

“This is a prison for my soul,” he said casually. “Not yours. You have nothing keeping you here.”

“Right.” You slowly made your way from the ground to your feet, brushing off your robes and casting a few cleansing charms to dispel the dust clinging to you. At least your magic seemed to work fine here, you noted. It was a small comfort to know that you’d be able to defend yourself if shit went left.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.” Now that he was speaking more, you couldn’t help but admire the way he sounded—silken and smooth and entirely unbothered, like he did this every day. “I was sure that I’d scared you off.”

“You underestimate how much I want that Potions O,” you offered.

“Never,” he said dryly. “Now that I see that you’re a Ravenclaw, I wouldn’t endeavor to make such ill-informed assumptions.”

You blanched, your head whipping down to take in what you were wearing. You weren’t sure why you were so shocked to see that you were wearing exactly what you’d had on moments ago at your desk—a midnight blue jumper with the Ravenclaw emblem stitched into the left breast, pulled on top of the white button up with the bronze and blue tie tucked underneath. That, and the standard-issue Hogwarts skirt and tights. Hardly dungeon attire—if you didn’t start brewing something soon, you’d be shivering.

It all looked very silly compared to how many layers Tom was wearing. His prefect pin glinted under the dim lighting of the Potions classroom, and you tried your best to keep your heart from swooning.

“Did I not tell you that I was a Ravenclaw?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “I don’t believe so. I would’ve remembered.”

“Are you surprised?”

He cast his dark eyes up to the ceiling and scrunched his nose in a way that you thought was meant to convey a serious bout of thinking. “Not quite. I was stuck between that and Slytherin.”

“Slytherin?” You couldn’t stop the way you grimaced at this.

“I thought we had enough in common for it to be plausible.”

A thrill shot through you. “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“I suppose I can't be too taken aback,” he said mildly, stepping neatly back and conjuring a cauldron to appear on the tabletop to his right. “You are a muggleborn. I don’t know of any who have been sorted into Slytherin.”

This wasn’t news to you, but Tom’s delivery stung more than usual. The implication hung heavy in the air that you were somehow in the inferior house, only placed in Ravenclaw because of your blood. As an afterthought—as a convenient place for you to be put away.

“That’s true,” you said, stepping closer until only the brewing table was in between you two. “But I doubt that I’d have been sorted there, even if I had been born a pureblood. The whole glutton-for-knowledge thing about Ravenclaw has always been me.”

“I disagree.” Tom summoned over a few jars of ingredients with a nonverbal wave of his wand. “If you’d been born with purer blood, you wouldn’t be so desperate to find a way to compensate.”

You flinched. Ouch.

“I’m very aware of why I feel the need to work so hard,” you snipped. “But I really don’t think that has anything to do with my genuine academic curiosity. If I was so single-minded in using knowledge for compensation then perhaps I would have been a Slytherin.”

For a moment, his dark eyes flashed with something that you couldn’t quite catch before his face ironed itself into something impassive once more. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to offend.”

You frowned, watching as he placed familiar ingredients on the table and began lining them up. “It’s fine. Just a bit of a sore spot, that’s all.”

He gave you a look that made you feel like you’d just pointed out the obvious. Which you had, clearly. But it was offensive regardless.

“I’ve assembled all the ingredients for a Draught of Living Death,” he announced, stepping back from the table and waving one pale hand at the spread in front of you. “You said you had trouble with brewing the base. This makes sense, since more complicated potions require more stable bases. I’m not wrong in assuming that you’ve always been adept at following instructions and brewing perfect potions before this year?”

He waited for your nod to continue.

“N.E.W.T Potions is different in that it challenges your intuition. Before this, you’ve been able to coast by relying on the guidance of others. But with potions like the Living Death, you need to be able to think on your feet. Even the slightest variation in your ingredients—the age, the quality, the place of origin—can be what ruins an otherwise perfectly good brew. Every potions recipe you see in school textbooks makes implicit assumptions about the quality and age of your ingredients. If, say, it’s an unusually hot day when a supply shipment arrives and the gillyweed oxidizes, the instructions for a more difficult potion won’t anticipate that you need to temper it with volcanic salt.

“That’s where you come in. When you’re preparing your base, you need to have an intimate understanding of the properties of each ingredient and how they interact with each other. This way, when you notice something isn’t quite average with your supplies—as is common in a school where ingredients are shipped in bulk—you can adjust.”

Tom paused, his eyes meeting yours. You blinked once, then broke the contact to look at the cauldron.

No one had ever explained that to you before. No one had ever taken the time. Snape certainly hadn’t been interested in lecturing about why so many students were incapable of producing viable potions—he was far more content with insulting his pupils for being inadequate.

“I never knew that,” you admitted, finally looking back at him. He hadn’t moved an inch. “That makes so much sense.”

Though your words were far from creative, honesty dripped from your voice.

“Right then,” said Tom, nodding tightly and stepping back to gesture to the ingredients. “Try to prepare the base again. This time pay attention to the state of the ingredients.”

You got the work, thinly dicing the beetroot while you set the moon water to simmer in the cauldron.

“This was bruised,” you noted, motioning to the cubes you’d just cut.

Tom nodded, looking at you rather expectantly.

“...which means that part of it has already oxidized,” you continued cautiously. In truth, you hadn’t spent much time learning about the different chemical properties of the ingredients. That felt too concretely muggle, too blatantly biological. “Which means that the enzymes have, uh, had their bonds ruptured?”

“And…?”

“And that means I need to…” You squinted down at the vegetable, trying to conjure up any knowledge you had about enzymes and potion making. It probably wouldn’t be volcanic salt. Would it? “I don’t think that I can use volcanic salt as a binding agent this time. If my memory serves correctly, moon water becomes unstable in the presence of pure minerals. So that means…acid? Lemon?”

Tom slid a vial over to you, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Mix a little into the beetroot before adding it.”

You uncorked it and let the citrus juice sink into the purple cubes, running slightly down the cutting board and pooling in the wooden crevices.

The rest of your base preparation went just as smoothly, with Tom offering up the odd helpful comment while you nodded and committed it to memory.

You finished with a base that looked nothing like the disaster you’d created just hours ago. You were just barely able to keep yourself from grinning and throwing your arms around Tom’s neck as you both began to clean up and vanish the contents of the cauldron.

“Well done,” said Tom, spelling the cutting board clean. The vibrant pink marks from the beetroot vanished. “Consider me impressed.”

You nearly exploded with giddiness.

“Thank you,” you said very normally. He was standing so close to you now that if you reached out, your fingers would skim his robe-clad arm. But you wouldn’t do that, because that was weird. Because he was living in a journal and he was somehow bound to this strange alternative reality. Because you weren’t even sure if it was possible to touch him. Because even if it was, Tom Riddle did not seem like the type of person who would be partial to physical affection—especially not from someone like you. “Do you—have you found anything out about how you can escape?”

Tom’s fluid motions as he tidied the table only stuttered for a moment. “Some. Nothing concrete, though.”

“If you told me exactly what it was you did to get stuck in here, I’d probably be able to offer a lot more help,” you pointed out in a way that you hoped didn’t sound too cajoling.

He didn’t say anything.

“Come on,” you pressed, putting your hands on your hips. “I’ve aired out all my dirty laundry to you. You can tell me. I don’t think there’s anything you could say that I haven’t already guessed.”

“Really?” drawled Tom, his eyes locking on yours. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” you affirmed.

“So why don’t you tell me what happened?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Men could be so frightfully dull sometimes.

“There’s a book,” said Tom with a deceptive casualness, “That should be in the Restricted section. It’s called ‘Secrets of the Darkest Arts.’ Read that. If you’d still like to know afterwards, I’ll oblige.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.”

The work table was all cleaned up, no trace of your previous potion brewing except for the lingering scent in the air.

“Well,” said Tom. His hands were folded neatly behind his back as he remained a respectable distance away from you. “I suppose I should be sending you back.”

“I suppose,” you echoed. “Will I—do you think I’ll get to see you again?”

You regretted it the moment the words left your mouth. Hopefully the blush on your face could be written off by the excuse that you were just brewing.

This time when he looked at you, it felt like he was re-evaluating something. “Whenever you’d like. I’m not especially occupied.”

Before you could stop yourself, your face was splitting into a bright smile. “Of course. I was definitely asking because of your busy schedule.”

He blinked twice. Then he opened his mouth, closed it, and fidgeted with his tie. It was the most obvious sign of discomfort you’d seen from him the entire evening.

“Right,” he said stiffly. “Ehm—yes. It was pleasant to have you here.”

“Pleasant?” you echoed, your eyebrows raised.

“I mean that I’ve enjoyed the time that we’ve spent in correspondence,” he said, waving a hand like that made what he said any less awkward.

“Tom, I was teasing you,” you said. “I don’t need some sort of confession about how you can actually stand being around me. I can tell.”

“Right,” he said again. “I’ll send you back now.”

Before you could add another remark about how weird he was being, you were catapulted out of the dungeons and back into your desk chair.

“Merlin’s Beard!” gasped Lucy from behind you.

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to the bright lighting of your dorm.

“You literally came out of nowhere!” said Lucy, coming around to put her hands on your desk and stare at you. “I was getting worried, too. Padma is coming back soon. I thought that I’d have to devise some sort of plan to keep her out of the room so she wouldn’t ask why you materialized out of thin air.”

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes unfocused.

“So what happened?”

“I—” You exhaled. “Lucy, I’m so fucked. He’s actually really cute.”

“I knew it,” said Lucy, shaking your shoulders.

“He helped me brew the base for the Draught of Living Death,” you elaborated. “He’s a really good tutor. He spoke for like 5 minutes about the properties of different ingredients, and I swear I’ve learned more from him than from 6 years of Snape’s lectures.”

“And did you guys talk?”

“A little.” You frowned, thinking back on the interactions you’d had. “He was really odd when I asked him about what I needed to do to get him out. Even weirder when I asked if I was going to see him again. He made some comment about how he wasn’t exactly busy and I said something that implied that I knew that but wanted to know if he liked seeing me, and he was super awkward.”

Lucy cringed. “Well, I mean, if I’d been stuck in a diary for 50 years without talking to someone, I’d probably be a little strange too. Tell me how he is when he talks—or writes, I guess—to you next.”

The next time Tom responded to a diary entry, you had news.

Tom you wrote. Are you there?

Yes.

Can you bring me back to you?

Why? Do you need another Potions lesson?

You rolled your eyes. Not quite.

Well, no. I won’t let you back until you’ve read the book I told you about.

That’s why I’m asking! I’ve tried looking for it everywhere. When none of the querying spells worked, I went through the entire Restricted Section by hand. Nothing! I asked Madam Pince and she told me that that book had been banned since before she’d gotten the position as librarian. I’m probably on some watch list now

That is troubling.

So if you’ll be so kind, please let me back in so I can use your library. Thank you in advance

There was a long pause that you imagined Tom took to sigh and run his fingers through his hair in exasperation. Then:

Very well.

You were falling through space once again.

final a/n: thank you for reading! let me know how you feel about it! this is my first time writing for tom so im kind of nervous or whatever

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine

798 notes · View notes

veintrry · 1 year

Text

the tension that rises between us.

wanderer x gn!reader, nsfw, grinding, finger sucking, consensual. reader's race, skin colour, sexuality, gender, body size is not specified/ anyone can read! not proofread, this is bad. 1.4k

let's just put it like this; one morning you wanted to be particularly annoying and this was the consequence of that. or reward. that's for you to decide.

AN: hi i hate this with a passion and by far this is one of my worst works ever lord what was I thinking

ac: lanamaru (tmblr)

You wouldn't have usually pulled this sort of thing, in fact, you never had. So why now? Your reasoning was pretty simple. Your dumb little mind seemed to have still not been fully conscious yet, and relying solely on your dumb mischievous ideas you didn't even give them a second thought. So, you could only guess the idea you got as you saw Scaramouche sleeping peacefully. On any other day you would've done anything to avoid waking him up, but today? Today was a day to try new things!

You inch a finger closer and closer to his cheek, and poke him. To your surprise he doesn't awake, and you can only assume its because he's gotten so used to being around you that he's softened up his defenses. Hastily crawling on top of him you get a good view of his face. GOOD view. You notice how nicely curled his lashes are, how his lips appear to be slightly darker on the inner part, how there's barely evident red stains near his eyes likely from his eyeliner. Only you get to see this, only you.

You rest on top of him, sat comfortably for yourself, and you move a hand to touch his face, but opt to only hover over his cheek as to not wake him. You began to wonder was this the sight that had lasted years? Unwoken, undisturbed. He looked so sweet like this, when he wasn't covering his feelings up. In a way, his vulnerability felt like an affection in its own way, after all it wasn't something easily granted.

"Kuni..." You whisper. You had practically forgotten you were meant to be annoying him, and at the reminder you completely changed what you're doing. You could say a slight curiosity came to you, one you couldn't erase... If he was to awake to see you like this, sat atop of him, he'd likely push you off, right? Or maybe he'd grumble about how you had disturbed his sleep. But, what if the circumstances were different.

Biting your bottom lip out of hesitation and slight nervousness, you slowly drag your hips up and down his groin. It felt lewd to do this, it wasn't really on your bucket list, but maybe it should've been. There is something that had you smiling to yourself as you peered down on him, you almost wanted to giggle at the sight of his sweet figure and soon you felt this rotting sweet sensation turn more needy. Even so, you didn't speed up. You just eyed him like a prey, mouth watering awaiting him. You rested a hand next to his head to have an even better view of the way his hair framed his face, to see how his jaw was slack and how his lips parted. You wanted to kiss them. You wouldn't though, not yet. A part of you, no, most of you wanted him to wake up. You didn't want to do it yourself, you wanted him to find you like this. You find yourself rewinding the idea of him seeing you like this, his reaction, what he'd say, what he'd think, and you attempt to keep those little whines of yours to yourself, that is, until you begin to speed up.

You let out short heavy breaths with each glide over him, feeling your core burn up you think its engulfing your entire body. Honestly, you must be shameless to do such a thing, if not that then you must simply enjoy the idea of being humiliated.

"You're so needy. Even I'm not this impatient."

You halt. Straightening your back, you look wide-eyed at him. It's not like you're actually shocked, but this is how people should react to being busted, right? "Ah, well... you looked pretty?" A brow lifted at your reasoning, giving you a humorous smirk. "I looked pretty. So you started grinding on me? I've never heard of people doing that."

Frankly, you didn't want to be interrogated for what you were doing, you didn't know why you did it either, impulses exist! Attempting to get off of him you move your hand away from his face and lift your leg over him before he's pulling you down again, hand gripping your wrist, pulling your face closer to his.

"Did I say you could stop now? You should know better than that. Finish what you started."

You feel a cold hand slither to your hips, holding you in place. Even though he was the one beneath you he still had a way to compel you with his eyes, it was honestly astonishing the power he held over you. "Don't tell me you've gotten shy, need my help?" His teasing was evident, he was making a mockery of you and yet you still wanted his aid, even you have your limits. "Yes. Maybe I do." You grumbled. "Hah, All you had to do was ask." He wasted no time in doing his task, leading your hips back into their previous rhythm. There was a way he gripped onto you when he felt you push deeper into him, like he was doing his all to keep his nails from digging into you. "To think you would've done something like this. You're absolutely shameless."

You replied with nothing but muffled sounds as you kept your mouth shut, biting your tongue. He didn't like that. No, he was always a fan of your sounds, after all no one else could hear them, not only that, but he was the cause. He was the reason for everything. That being said, he must confess that having woken to you like that, well, it was rewarding to him. To think you found him so attractive, that you liked him so much you just couldn't help yourself. But if you wished to make yourself feel welcome then he wouldn't protest.

The tip of Scaramouche's nose touched yours, his eyes lidded as he gazed at you with a calculating look as though he had you figured out. "Cat got your tongue?" He cocked his head to the side. There was no way you could muster a reply, no way you'd even want to. Covering your mouth to do your best as he pushed you harder onto him, at this point you didn't need him to guide you, you didn't even need to think of what to do, your hips rolled against him pleading for more friction, any friction against the bulge you can feel beneath you. You knew he liked it, no, he absolutely loved it when he had you for himself.

"That's no good." Releasing your wrist he reaches for the hand jailing the sweet sounds erupting from your throat, pulling it away with ease as you put up no fight. Your body was lazy, your eyes staring at his chest, only now realising the tight black clothing he had on. You were keeping yourself up with only one hand and even so you felt your strength slipping as you wanted nothing more than to just feel him. "Open your mouth for me." You spare a glance up at him, with want, not only for him, but to see him needing you too.

You separate your lips, mouth open awaiting his next move, and as you eye his facial expression, his satisfaction with your behaviour, how lustrous orbs eye you with such lust swirling within them. He picks up your jaw to get one proper look at you with drool spilling down your lips onto your chin. He swipes it off with his thumb, licking it. "All for me." He eyes his wet thumb, then you. Inserting two digits into your mouth, he speaks demandingly, "Suck." And despite his harsh tone, you feel your heart pump more and more. To you, this was no more than a sign of his want. So you do as he asks. Lacing your tongue around his fingers, taking them in, and bobbing your head as you even plant kisses on them.

You could hear his breathing, how unlike yours despite it being quieter, clearly an attempt from him to hide it. His breaths were heavy, but they asked for more. Scaramouche observed as you practically sucked his fingers off as though it was his very own cock. And he found his mind trailing far far away with new ways to toy with you after you're done entertaining him. Maybe you should do this more often.

#kunikuzushi #wanderer #wanderer genshin #wanderer x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin smut #genshin scara #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scara x reader #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi smut #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #wanderer headcanons #scaramouche headcanons

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httpswritings · 5 months

Text

We don't have to wait all night. - Katie McCabe & Hayley Raso.

Additional info: inspired in The Veronica's song “In My Blood”. You may want to check it out before reading.

Warnings: suggestive tone, not smut.

Summary: Katie and Hayley meet in Hayley's and Caitlin's hotel room.

Hayley had just gotten out of the shower when she heard a few knocks on the door. She only had a towel covering her body. Her messy, wet hair falling onto her shoulders, dropping some droplets on the floor.

“Caitlin, did you forget your key?”, Hayley shouted.

Two more knocks.

“Who is it?”, she asked.

Nobody replied, but the knocks kept coming in.

Stressed-out, she opened the door in a not too friendly way.

“Dear lord, WHO is— Oh, hello...Katie? Can I help you?”

But Katie did not answer instantly. Instead, she glanced at Hayley, from the top to the bottom, slightly aroused.

“Oh, yeah. I'm looking for Caitlin. She told me that she was staying in this room. Room 43, is it wrong?”

“No, no it's not. Come in if you want!”

As Katie entered the room, Hayley told her that Caitlin hadn't come yet to the hotel after the match as she had to stay to do some work related stuff, not specifying anything else more.

“You can wait for her here. I don't think she's gonna take long.”

“Better to wait here than in the lobby, but only if you're comfortable with the idea.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

Katie kept silent but glanced again all over Hayley's figure and then smiled at her.

Understanding what Katie was referring to, Hayley said, “Oh, yeah, don't worry. I'll get changed in the bathroom. Take a sit on the be—, on the floor, or do whatever you want.”

“Are you sure you're okay with me staying here? You seem a bit nervous.”

“No! I mean, ye—, I MEAN, I'm not nervous. I find it funny. Not even one hour ago, we were on each other's throats during the match.”

Katie chuckled over Hayley's comment.

“Yeah, it's funny if you think so. I put you to work today.”

“You what? I put you to work. Don't get confused, McCabe.”

“That's not what the streets are saying. They all agree with me beating your ass.”

This should've made Hayley angry, it somewhat did, but she was also enjoying this conversation to the point that she had forgotten that only one medium-size towel was covering her body.

“Oh, so you wanna talk about what people are saying about you? Maybe you won't like everyone's opinions.”

Katie had a few ideas in her mind about what Hayley referring too. The Australian woman was right, Katie was not in the mood to talk about the gossip people have been tying her name to. Instead she tried to changed a little bit the direction of the conversation.

“What about you? What opinion do you have about me?"

The Irishwoman couldn't properly focus on the conversation. She had that one player, the one who had been fighting with during the match, almost naked in front of her, with a light brown towel around her body. Her hair falling down her shoulders in a messy way, some droplets falling onto Hayley's soft skin, and the essence of shampoo and body lotion impregnating the room.

“I've heard you are into Aussies.” Hayley said with a smirk, referring to Katie being linked to Caitlin Foord.

“Anything else?”

“You seem the type of person who's really sweet off the pitch. A little bit timid I'd say, in some occasions only. You probably hate feeling vulnerable, so you are very selective with whom you let to know your most authentic self. Very family oriented too. Am I wrong?”

“No. I'm actually impressed.", She didn't like Hayley almost perfectly spotting her personality, did she?

“Good. My turn. What do you think about me?”

“I haven't gotten a good first impression from you.” Katie lied. She felt the need to. Hayley was getting too close to see her soft side. She was right, Katie was too protective over people seeing her vulnerability.

Was she, Katie Alison McCabe, the one who usually intimidates people, the one who was feeling intimidated by Hayley Raso?

“I haven't met a lot of Irish people. Are they all these arrogant like you?"

“Hey! Watch your mouth.“ The Irishwoman said as she clenched her jaw, feeling a bit uneasy.

Katie felt such a pride from Ireland and from what it took to represent her country, that Hayley's comment didn't sit well with her.

“I'm sorry. It was not my intention to insult your people. I wanted to tease you, not to harm your identity as an Irish.", said Hayley sincerely, worried about having pushed the conversation too far.

Katie found herself smiling as a way of accepting Hayley's apology but immediately stopped as she felt a tingling sensation in her abdomen.

“Maybe I should get into the bathroom to get changed. You've had enough of me for today.” As Hayley headed to the bathroom door, Katie stood up.

“No! I mean, don't. I get it was a misunderstanding, and you didn't mean it. It was a good tease, tho. If that's what you wanted, you did succeed with it.”

The Irishwoman was going through such an internal conflict. Her rational mind was warning her about the consequences of what this conversation could lead to. But on the other hand, her irrational mind, the one who was being tricked by the lustful atmosphere and Hayley's presence, was aiming her to get lost in Hayley's teasing.

She bit her lower lip and took two steps towards Hayley, not too far away, not too close to her.

The Australian woman was intoxicated by Katie's strong gaze.

For the first time in a really long time, she felt unaware of what to do, so she kept in silence.

“So?”

“So, what?”

Katie noticed she had a little bit more of control over the situation, and she was starting to enjoy every second of it. It was her opportunity to tease Hayley back, and she was not going to waste the occasion to push it until the very end. No matter how it turned out.

“We, the Irish, are quite friendly as long as we feel comfortable with the other person."

Katie took another step forward.

“I know. I just told you I didn't mean t—"

“Shhh. Do you really know?”

Another step forward.

“Because maybe I'll have to be the one who shows you exactly how we truly are.”

Hayley's cheeks were started to have a reddish tone, so prominent as a contrast to her white skin.

“How— How are you— are you going to show me that?”

“Well. You've seen me on the pitch. Why don—”

“Caitlin has seen you too, and you were going to see her after the game. That's why you're here.” Hayley said in a sharper tone, cutting the lustful atmosphere off.

“Maybe we do have something going on. Maybe something not too serious. Maybe that won't make you deny my offer.”

“Maybe I do. I'm no one's sloppy seconds.”

“I know. I don't want you to feel as the second option.” Katie took a final step forward and took Hayley's right hand with her left hand, quickly squeezing it.

“Don't feel obliged to. Take your time to think about it. You can call me anytime, beautiful.”

As Katie headed to the door, it was now Hayley's turn to stop her.

As she grabbed her left arm, she asked her to stay.

“I'm curious about you. I've heard that you said you enjoyed our match being a really physical one.”

“I did. Being physical on the pitch is one of my strengths as a player. I thought it was well-known”, Katie dramatically said, as she gained a cute chuckle from the Australian woman.

“Don't worry. It is well-known.” said Hayley as she rolled her eyes.

“You said— You said it was always a battle to play against me. Did you enjoy fighting against me as much as I did enjoy being physical with you?”

“You can tell I did. Not my favourite way of being physical, but I did have a great time.”

Katie's eyes opened widely as she held a shocked expression for a few seconds. She was not expecting that kind of answer from a Hayley Raso that was slightly embarrassed in front of her not even ten minutes ago.

“Did I scare you, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“You seem—”

“No. I'm fine. Just curious about you too. Tell me which way you enjoy being physical the most.”

“I don't have enough time to properly show you that. Caitlin's gonna arrive any time soon. Does she even know you're here waiting for her?”

“No.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Tell me what do you want, Katie, and with whom.”

As Katie sighed, the door slowly opened, so she grabbed Hayley into the bathroom and locked the door”

“Rass, I'm here! Hayley?"

“Yeah, Cait, I'm taking a shower. Well, I'm about to.” Hayley shouted from the bathroom as she turned on the tap.

“Okay.”

As the sound of the water falling down in the shower, Katie whispered, “She's not leaving?”

“Why the fuck would she leave, Katie? This is her room too. Now tell me why have you locked us in the bathroom?”

They both tried to not be heard by Caitlin, who was laying down on her bed scrolling through her phone.

“What's the plan?”

“You're asking me? You are the one who has locked us in the bathroom, with me being almost naked and you being this near me."

The water kept falling down the tap, camouflaging Katie and Hayley's voices.

“Look, we need to get out of here. You can message Caitlin and tell her to meet you in your hotel room, or in any other place. I can't take a shower for too long, or she will eventually get worried.”

“I haven't answered your question.”

“Katie, this is not the right ti—”

“Shh.” the Irishwoman said as she placed one finger on Hayley's lips.

“I have a thing going on with Caitlin. Nothing too serious. Kind of a fling as we both have just gotten out of a relationship. But it's not easy to have you like this in front of me.” she said as she let her head fall on Hayley's right shoulder. “It's not easy to smell your skin, to sense how soft it is.”

She slightly moved her head, making Hayley shiver.

“I want you to show me your favourite way to being physical, as you said earlier. Not here, not like this, because as you've said, we don't have enough time. I'm not implying to wait until nighttime, because we don't have to, but know that I also have the urge to show you my way of doing things. Things I want you to enjoy without being in a rush. Slowly but steady.”

As Hayley was at a loss of words, Katie continued.

“Don't feel pressured to accept my offer. Have in mind I don't have anything serious with Caitlin nor with anyone else. I'm not prepared yet. As you've said before, I don't like feeling vulnerable in front of people I don't consider close to me, so—”

“But, you're being vulnerable now while telling me this.”

“I know. And it's not easy. But it's sincere. I have no idea of how we are going to get out of here because even if Caitlin and I are nothing serious, I don't want to put you through this situation. But know that I'll be more than happy if today, tomorrow or whenever you feel ready, we spend some time enjoying each other's company.”

“Hayley? I need to use the bathroom.”

Both women inside the bathroom looked at each other with a worried expression.

“The door it's locked Cait. I'm sorry. Wait until I'm done.”

As she heard Caitlin swear, she pleaded Katie, “God, Katie, message her anything. She needs to get out of this room so you can leave.”

As Katie agreed to do so, she looked for her phone.

“What?”

“My phone's out there. On the bed.”

“WHA—”

“Shh.”

As Katie rushed to cover Hayley's mouth, Caitlin asked confused, “You okay, Rass?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Are you always this noisy?”

“Katie, not the time for this kind of jokes.”

“I'm not joki—”

“Rass, I'm going to Sam's room to use her bathroom. Take your time, girl. Let's see if when I come back you're still playing The Little Mermaid.”

As they heard Caitlin getting out of the room, Katie rushed to grab her phone and left, not before leaving a soft caress on Hayley's cheek, “Keep me updated, beautiful mermaid. You know my Instagram.”

Surprisingly, Katie succeeded into getting out of the hotel without being caught by any Australian members.

As she was on her way to her hotel, she received a few messages from Hayley.

hayleyraso: It wasn't easy for me either to have you so damn near me.

hayleyraso: Let me know if you have any ideas for our meeting...today

Katie smiled.

katie_mccabe11: I'll book a room in a hotel where there won't be any football players staying. Not an easy task, though.

hayleyraso: okay, pretty girl

katie_mccabe11: see you later 🧜‍♀️🫧🛁

#katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #hayley raso #hayley raso x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

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poohbea · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄.

eren yeager | smut, slight fluff, angst if you squint | aristocrat!au

wordcount: 5.8k

content: upper class shenanigans, softdom!eren, fem!reader, oral (receiving), penetration (missionary and doggy), rough sex, pet names (princess, beautiful, etc.), crying, dick drunk reader, daddy kink, eren is a liiiittle pushy and an asshole (just a tiny bit), both of them holding a very weird hatred for each other (idk how else to describe it), unprotected sex (use protection kids)

― synopsis: being the heir of the biggest company in paradis holds it's challenges but no one prepared you for eren yeager

note from pooh: this turned out to be longer than expected lmao, writing smut after a long time is so hard omg i never know what the hell to say, hopefully it's not that obvious. i'm not too happy with it but i'm so over re-writing it at this point hahaha.

WARNING: this is smut, so please ensure you have your age visible on your account before interacting. Minors (below 18+), ageless and blank blogs will be BLOCKED

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

“Oh don’t look so glum,” your mother chastised, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Enjoy yourself my love.” Her diamond earrings glistened in the warm candle light cascading from the chandeliers of the grand ballroom. She was an angelic vision in her lilac dusted gown, the same diamonds as the ones in her ears speckled through the fine fabric like dew on flower petals.

You sighed, sipping from your recently refilled glass of white wine. “Easier said than done.” Your gaze moved with the dancing crowd below you, dots of assorted colours and jewellery, black, white, green, pink. You hadn’t seen him yet.

She chuckled at your seriousness. “Do you really think hiding yourself away up in the balcony is going to solve your problems?”

Yes. “What else am I supposed to do?” You sent her a questioning side glance.

“Oh I don’t know… go down there? Dance? Mingle? God forbid you have fun.” She positions herself at your side against the bannister, dress brushing against your own.

Silently you leaned your head on her shoulder, a scent of vanilla and roses floating from her skin. “Is he here?” You whispered as you played with the delicate lace on your sleeves.

“He is.” She replied solemnly, resting her head on top of yours.

Your heart sank as her words solidified your anxiety. Of course he was here, how could he not be?

The man in question was one Eren Yeager, son of Lord Grisha and Lady Carla of Maria. A man who had been a thorn in your side since you were children. Lord Grisha generated his wealth from his medical practices littered across the country, this was valuable to your family, valuable enough to do business with.

Your parents thought it a good idea for you and Eren to become acquainted, being about the same age, maybe something would blossom. Though the only thing that did blossom was the growing hatred between you both. You somehow were always getting on each other’s nerves, so much so that you began to despise him. It started with small childish things, hair pulling, petty fights over trivial topics like who got to have the last of everything, but when you hit adolescence he made it a point to make a snarky comment no matter what you were doing.

“What the hell happened to your face?” He’d scowled at you one afternoon while you lay idly in the grass reading a book. It just so happened to be the same day your mother decided you were old enough to start wearing makeup.

You threw him an irritated look. “It’s makeup.”

“Your mother let you leave the house looking like that?” His shadow covers your face as he leans over you curiously, running a finger along your cheek.

“Piss off Eren!” He laughs as you throw your book at his face, easily dodging the hardback.

It was even worse as you came of age to actually date. He somehow managed to wriggle his way in and meddle with all your potential suitors, spreading rumours, interrupting dances and private conversations. There was a time everyone believed you’d slept with all of your father’s business partners, of course it wasn’t true but that didn’t stop your parents from losing their minds over the allegations. Your reputation was an important one, it was make or break in this dog-eat-dog world you were born into. You never really did find out who or where that rumor came from, but you had a funny feeling Eren had something to do with it.

“Maybe he’ll behave himself now that he’s in public.” Your mother continued.

“Fine I’ll go, but if he says anything out of turn...” You looked to her, finding no trace of disapproval, just her soft features watching the sway of dresses below.

“You’ll be fine.” She shifts to stand upright again before kissing your temple. “What’s the worst that could happen?” She smiles, disappearing through the curtain draped over the entryway of the balcony.

Sighing, you down the last of your wine and readjust the bust of your dress, smoothing over the lace that hung off your shoulders, dress twinkling in the light like stars at dusk. With a deep breath you found your way to the staircase that led onto the ballroom floor, hesitating at the top as you watched a parade of colour flutter by. You had yet to see Yeager, you reassured yourself. And hopefully you’d go the whole night without the misfortune of running into him. As you began your descent your mother’s words echoed through your mind one last time.

What was the worst that could happen?

Foreign and familiar faces welcomed you with curtseys and bows of reverence while you walked through the crowd, head held high and a bright smile on your face, greeting your family’s many business partners.

Being the heir to one of the largest companies in all of Paradis held a lot of responsibility, the primary one, being the picturesque daughter your father sought you out to be. Proper, intelligent and scandal-free. Something that was already hard to do in a sea of people who fed off of gossip.

“Lady y/n.” A kindly voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Could I interest you in a dance?” Jean Kirstein - the newest addition to your fathers growing list of associates- greeted you coyly with a hand outstretched in invitation.

You gave a half-smile “Of course.”

He was a handsome man to say the least, with tousled blond hair and a smile that had butterflies churning in your stomach. His suit was a classic black and white three piece, a teal tie bringing a pop of colour that complimented his alluring hazel eyes.

With one hand in yours and the other securely on your waist, he whisked you out onto the dance floor, taking the lead as he began moving you in time with the music. His gentle gaze never left yours as you floated across the floor effortlessly, touch warm against your hips that he guided in a rhythm that met his own.

“You’re quite good at this aren’t you?” Your playful expression made him chuckle.

“Of course my lady,” he replied, spinning you before continuing. “I had to make a good first impression didn’t I?”

The tempo rose with the changing routine and it was time to switch partners. He laid a soft kiss on your hand before releasing you in another spin, a laugh bubbling in your chest as you landed in the arms of your next partner.

“Good to see you’re enjoying yourself my lady,” your smile faltered as you looked up to see the face of the man you’d so desperately tried to avoid all night. “Don’t look so upset, frowning was never a good look on you?” A smirk hung on his lips as he towered over your smaller frame, loose hairs framing his face as he pinned you with mischievous eyes.

“What are you doing here, Eren?” You spat, feeling your skin tingle where his touch slowly made its way down the small of your back.

A huff left his chest. “I was sent an invitation? Why were you hoping I wouldn’t come?”

“Yes,” you retort. “I was hoping for a night of peace.”

He extended an arm and spun you in place, then roughly pulled you back into his chest. “You and I both know that’s never going to happen.” There was a knowing undertone in his voice, a tone that you knew always held bad intentions.

“Why must you always ruin my night?” You carped, trying your best to maintain your composure. There were too many important people around for you to make a scene and not face the consequences, but the longer he spoke the closer he was to pushing you there.

He dipped you low and your gaze caught Jean’s, who smiled at you softly while dancing with a woman in red. How you yearned to be back in his arms again.

“So you and Kirstein? What’s that about?” Eren nodded to the man in question as he brought you back up again. Your breath nearly left you with how close his lips were to your own, too distracted by that fact you didn’t even register his question.

“What?” Your brows furrowed at him as you took a step back to put some distance between you.

He met you with an icy expression. “Are you and Jean...an item?” He pressed, voice faltering at the end as if it pained him to even say those words. Why did he care?

“No, he’s an associate of my father’s, why does it matter?” You answered honestly, unconsciously moving your hand from his shoulder to his chest, running your index finger over the key shaped pin on his jacket collar.

“You seem awfully fond of someone who cleans horse shit for a living.” You catch him glance over his shoulder to where you could only assume Jean stood, not missing the irritation in his voice.

“He does not,” your hand smacks his chest. “He runs the biggest transport company in the country, horses are just one of his divisions.”

Eren rolls his eyes at your defensiveness. “Oh so you do like him. I didn’t know you enjoyed the smell of horse shi-”

The song comes to an end and you break away from him before you do something you’d regret. You opened your mouth and closed it again, fists balling at your side as everything you ever wanted to say became stuck in your throat. For all the belittling, the mocking and the embarrassment, you wanted to let him have it, but something held you back. Your tongue was stiff as he watched you with an inscrutable expression, waiting for you to break.

Instead your face softens, an equally unreadable expression etched upon your features. “Thank you for the dance Eren, good evening.” You said simply, giving a final curtsey before turning your back to him, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

With a hastened pace you pushed your way through the sea of guests, odd looks cast your way as you haphazardly bumped into a server holding champagne, making you lose your balance. The glasses clattered to the floor with a loud shatter, most of it spilling on your dress in the commotion as you landed on your hands and knees in the liquid. The crowd around you gasped and sneered, encircling your distressed figure on the floor, apologetic and frantically searching for an exit. You saw Eren among them, a taunting glint in his eyes, as if he enjoyed seeing you like this. Beneath him.

You were mortified.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” Jean’s voice broke your fixed gaze. The man knelt down to help you up, but to his surprise you tore your hand from his, offered him a pained smile and curtsied half-heartedly.

“Excuse me.” You choked before speeding up the staircase, uncaring of the array of murmurs and snickers that followed your abrupt and dramatic exit.

This was his fault, Eren fucking Yeager. You cursed as your feet blistered in the tall heels you’d been wearing the whole night, reduced to hobbling down the long hallway, body sticky and damp from alcohol. This was the worst that could happen, you thought. As if being ridiculed wasn’t enough he had to go and add insult to injury with his stupid fucking face mocking you from the crowd.

Was this his plan? To rile you up so much that you’d slip up in front of everyone that was important to you? To your family?

“Fucking Yeager!” You growl, stepping into your room and slamming the door shut behind you. You began pulling pins from your hair tossing them onto your vanity in frustration, strands falling over your shoulders as you kicked off your shoes in the process. You were done with this evening, with everyone and everything associated with it.

As you finally tore the last pin from your now disheveled curls you heard a knock at your door. “I’m not accepting guests at this time!” You called out, frustrated with the ties on your dress. There was silence, then another knock. “Go away!” A string of curses fall from your lips as your fingers continue to slip against the silky fabric. “This couldn’t possibly get any worse.” You sigh. Then you heard your door open. “I said go away-!”

The source of your fury stood leant against the door frame, an arrogant aura emanating from his figure as he watched you struggle to undress. “How unladylike-”

The shoes you had discarded on the floor found their way into your hands and you aimed for his head, disappointed when he narrowly dodges the object. “Get out!” You glowered at him, other shoe in hand ready to throw.

He gave you an incredulous look, smoothing the loose strands on his forehead displaced due to evading your attack. “Are you insane?!” He shouts, picking up the shoe you’d just tossed at his face.

You threw the other shoe, this time at his groin, to which again he narrowly dodged. “Have you not had enough of making a fool of me today? You had to come up here to see your work first hand?” You’d given up on your calm façade, letting your emotions spill as you saw fit in the privacy of your room.

“You’re blaming me for that disaster?” He brayed, both of your shoes now in his palms.

“Of course this is your fault!” You spat callously. “The constant degrading, the fucking agony you put me through every event. You love to humiliate me every chance you get! And for what? Your own twisted sense of humour?” Your chest heaved as you found yourself mere inches from him, breast almost against his in your fit of rage, defeated tears spilling down your flushed cheeks.

You hated to cry, especially in front of Eren but at this point you couldn’t think of anything else to do. The pained attempt to stop the tears from falling ended in hundred more flooding out, you couldn’t bottle it all up anymore, not this time.

Silence filled the room, save your shallow shaky breaths and his deep ones. His face was once again unreadable, eyes scouring yours, for what, you didn’t know. Abandoning your shoes on the floor, his hand brushed a stray lock of hair that curled at your collarbone, grazing the skin there as his now softened gaze lowered to your lips, then back to your watery-eyed glare. The touch set goosebumps upon your skin as he continued up your neck to your jaw, wiping a thumb over your tear stained cheek.

“Let me make it better.” He breathed onto your lips, pleading eyes piercing into yours. His thumb traced your bottom lip tenderly, time slowing as his own met yours. He walked you backward further into your bedroom by your hips, closing the door behind him with an audible sound that reverberated off the hinges. His hand shifted to caress the back of your neck, pulling you into him further to deepen the kiss, moulding against your lips as he used his other hand to loosen the knot in the ties of your dress.

When the back of your knees hit your bed you parted, out of breath and thinking a bit clearly. “Eren,” you sighed, forehead against his as your breathing fell in time with one another. “Please, we-” He places a kiss on your cheek, turning you around to have better access to the back of your dress.

“Shh.” He whispers. His fingers pry the ties free and from their loops and he watches your body visibly relax, finally released from the confines of the material. Softly he pulls the fabric from your arms and down your waist till it became a pool of colour on the carpeted floor. His jacket and tie join it as he flicked the first few buttons of his shirt open to expose the tanned expanse of his chest.

You felt oddly vulnerable in your underwear, even if this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you this way, his gaze still painted a flush upon your skin. Instinctually your arms came up to cover your bare chest, breasts almost spilling from between them.

He chuckles, neck lowering to plant a kiss on your shoulder as he smooths a hand over your stomach. “I’ve seen you like this plenty of times but you still hide from me.”

His fingers played with the waistband of your panties mindlessly, lips continuing their way up your shoulder. The heat of his touch has your mind going fuzzy, losing yourself in the way his hands trailed over your skin, familiar with every mark, every crevasse, every curve your body had to offer. Your lips part in a gasp as he bites into the soft flesh of your neck, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this.”

He turns you back around to face him, pushing you onto the mattress softly. His hips nestle between your thighs as his body envelops yours, pressing his hard-on against your clothed pussy.

“Eren.” With a sigh your hips squirm beneath his, attempting to ease the arousal rapidly pooling at your core.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You lose your voice at the way his mouth paths down your collarbone, laving marks into the depths of your skin. His hands find yours still covering your chest and pries them away, entwining your fingers to pin your hands above your head. Beneath his intense gaze the flush on your skin deepened, struggling to keep still while your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. He looked like he wanted to devour you.

“Y/n.” He whispers mindlessly against your skin. Before you could answer him a gasp caught in your throat as his tongue encircled your nipple. He released your hands to cup your tits, rolling the other bud between his thumb and forefinger. “Keep them there.”

Your back arched unconsciously, rubbing yourself against his cock — still uncomfortably strained against the zipper of his trousers — causing a deep groan to sound from his throat, the sound alone making your clit throb.

“Fuck, Eren.” Digging your nails into your palms you struggled to keep them above your head, as you whined. It was embarrassing the amount of power he had over you, the way a simple flick of his tongue birthed an impossible ache between your thighs. After doing this with him for this long you’d think it’d have worn off by now.

“That’s it beautiful, say my name.” He coos, continuing his assault down to your thighs. His fingers curl around your panties and guide them down your legs, letting it join your dress on the floor.

A breathy moan escaped you as he wastes no time drawing a long strip from your entrance to your clit, moaning at the way your arousal danced on his tongue. Pushing your thighs apart he did it again, dipping his tongue into you this time to gage your reaction.

Those sweet sounds he craved for weeks finally fell freely from your lips, like music to his ears. He drank in every gasp and every whimper as your head lulled back and your back arched, still obeying his instruction as your fingers dug into the bedsheets.

His cock twitched as you began rocking your hips into his face, matching the pace of his tongue fucking into your dripping cunt. How did he always end up here? Back in this position, on his knees, between your legs, savouring the way you tasted like it was the last time he’d ever get to experience it. How tightly did you have him wound around your finger? Pretty damn tight apparently. As much as he tried to deny it, push you away with insults, humiliation and bickering he always found himself here, worshipping your pussy.

He hated you for it.

“’Ren, please. Please, please, please, fuck.” Your thighs strained against his hold, trembling as you continued fucking his face.

Fuck, he could listen to you beg forever. “What do you want princess?” He asked in a husky tone, planting tender a kiss on your inner thigh. His eyes were glazed over, a deeper green than they were on the dancefloor. Fingertips ghosted your entrance as he waited for your reply, his breath on your clit making you clench around nothing.

“I need you... I need you inside me, please.” You panted desperately.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath as you open your legs wider for him. “Look how wet you are.” The way your arousal dripped down your ass and onto the sheets made his mouth water, the view never got old. Reluctantly pulling away from you he finally rids himself of his clothes, sighing softly as he finally frees his cock from the confines of his pants.

The sight had your mind reeling. He reminded you of an art piece, like marble where the finest detail was carved to perfection. His skin glowed in the candle light, glistening in a thin veil of sweat with your arousal still on his lips — rosy and plush. Muscles pulsed as he reached behind his head to pull the band in his hair, freeing a cascade of long dark hair onto his back and shoulders.

He hovers over you, lips ghosting yours as he guides his cock through your folds with a hiss. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’d hope so.” You reply with a cheeky grin, laying a kiss on his chin.

You yelp as his hand slaps your ass harshly, the sound reverberating off the walls. There was a handprint now burning red on your ass. “What was that for?” You hiss, trying to move your hips away but find them pinned to the mattress under his weight.

He bites your neck in reply. “For being rude.”

“Oh, piss off.” He raises a warning brow as you roll your eyes.

Again he smacks your ass as punishment, this time harder in the same place. “Do that one more time, see what happens.”

The sting of your ass seemed to have clouded your judgement as you proceeded to take him up on that challenge. “Fuck yo-!”

Before you could finish your rebuttal he shoves his cock into you without warning, completely filling you to the hilt. Your hands find his shoulders instinctively, embedding crescent shaped marks into his skin. The sound you made was a mix between a gasp and a moan, both in shock and pleasure at the sudden intrusion.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Eren chuckles beside your ear, smirk evident in his tone.

A shaky breath leaves your chest. “I hate you.” You grumble in reply, the words coming out breathier than intended.

He shifts to rest his forehead against yours, a shit-eating grin still on his face. “If you hate me so much…” The pause is met with a harsh thrust of his hips, sending another moan tumbling from your lips. “Then why am I the only one that’s able to have you like this?” Your breath hicks as he repeats the same action, nose brushing his as he moved.

You didn’t have a real answer, it’s not like you didn’t seek sex from other partners, you did, but none of them could compare to the man before you. There was something comforting in how he knew your body inside and out, your expressions, the way your skin flushed under his touch, every moan and stutter. You trusted him with your body as he did you with his, but in doing so it fed into an addiction, one that could only be satisfied by Eren.

“Who said you were the only one?” You teased back.

His breath hit your nose as he huffed out a laugh. “No one can make you feel the way I do. Admit it.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. Anyone can do what you do, you’re not special.”

“Oh really?” His cock twitches inside of you, hips moving at an agonisingly slow pace. “Like who?”

“O-others, why do you need to know?” You stutter out, unable to draw a realistic name from the top of your head.

“I’d like to know who my competition is. That is if they even exist.” Your skin tingles as his nose traces the curve on your cheek. Eren knew exactly what that stutter meant. You were a liar. But that didn’t make going along with it any less entertaining.

“Of course they exis- fuck!” Pleasure overwhelms you as he hits a familiar spot, fingers playing with your clit as he continued his strokes.

“Mmm.” He groans against your cheek. “You know how much I hate lies, y/n.” His pace doesn’t let up as he speaks, fingers and cock moving in time with one another, a sweet harmony that had you struggling to maintain your fragile composure.

“I’m not-”

Spank.

“Stop lying to me sweetheart,” he warns again, upping the pressure on your clit. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You could barely think, let alone speak as he continued his ministrations. Your pussy was a sopping mess, so much so that the lewd sound of your wet cunt taking his cock was audible with every delicious stroke.

Your breath fanned against his neck, hot and fast between moans and whines. The longer this went on the quicker your resolve dissipated and soon you were at his mercy. “You ‘Ren, it’s you.”

“I’m sorry?” He smiles, leaning his ear to your lips. “Say it again I don’t think I heard you.”

“Fuck, you’re the only one who can make me feel like this ‘Ren.” You repeat begrudgingly between breaths.

“Good girl.” With a kiss to your cheek he leans back on his heels, letting his cock slip out of you. “Turn over for me.”

Obediently you flip over on your hands and knees, chest brushing the mattress as you position your ass in the air. You feel him move over you, watching as he retrieves two pillows at the head of the bed to place under your hips, to which you happily lay on.

His hands slip themselves into the crease where your hips met your thighs, memorising the way your back arched in this position. He proceeds to run his thumbs over the small of your back, parallel to your spine before his grip tightens slightly and he’s pushing your hips into the pillows. Slowly he eases into you, moaning at the way your pussy engulfed him eagerly, tightening as inch by inch he drew deeper.

"Holy fuck, ‘Ren!” You cry, nails clawing the sheets. It was like he was in your stomach, if that was even possible.

His tongue paths its way up your spine, leaving spaced open mouth kisses on your skin till he reaches your ear. “Does that feel good princess?”

You could only moan in response, heavy breaths wafting your hair that had fallen over your face. He wasn’t even moving but he still managed to turn your brain to mush.

With a chuckle he pecks your shoulder. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” His hips shift slightly, drawing a string of whines from your throat. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Mhm.” The weight of his body leaves yours as he sits back up, pausing to give your ass a squeeze. “And what if I move like this?” His hips draw back slowly before pushing back into you with a force that almost knocked the breath out of you. “That feel good too, baby?”

“Yes, fuck it feels so good, daddy.”

That was all the confirmation he needed to let go and fuck you into the bed the way he knew you loved. Hard and rough. Using your back as leverage he pressed into your skin, grip tight around your waist as he watched your ass ripple with every slap of his hips against your own.

You were so damn intoxicating it wasn’t even a joke anymore. There were days he’d actually miss this, miss you. Your face, your scent, your taste, how your pussy felt as it squeezed him at every inch, it was like you were made for him and vice versa. He’d never actually tell you any of that though.

This wasn’t love. It was sex, reoccurring mind blowing sex. Or so he continued to tell himself.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, yes!” By the way your toes curled he knew he was hitting that sweet spot along your walls. Satisfaction swelled in his chest at your cock drunk form scrunching the sheets between your fingers, losing your voice in the pleasure surging through your body.

“That’s it sweetheart.” Cooing, he slows his pace to pin your hands behind your back, trapping your wrists in one hand and using the other to play with your clit. “You love this dick don’t you?”

Mindlessly you reply. “Yes daddy, so deep in my pussy.” At this point you would say anything, do anything if he asked you to. With the way his dick kissed that spot inside you over and over it was hard not to lose yourself, to let your eyes roll back and just take it.

“You feel so good princess, fuck you take me so well.” He looks down to where your bodies met, almost cumming at the sight of you creaming all over his cock. Your nails were digging into the back of his hand that still pinned your hands to the small of your back, grip tightening as your thighs tensed.

“I’m gonna cum, I-I’m gonna cum.” You whine with a hick.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over this dick.” He wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer as you grew tighter with each passing stroke, but he needed you to cum first, he needed to watch you come undone on his cock.

“Eren!” You hold onto his hand for dear life as you fall over the edge, your whole body tightening as Eren fucks you through your orgasm, fingers still softly caressing your clit.

“Good girl, that’s it.” He praises, out of breath, soon following with his own high. White hot ropes of cum painted your insides as a variation of your name fell from his lips in an incoherent mess. Normally he’d never be caught dead cumming inside if it was any one else but because it was you he bent that rule.

You groan softly as your body grew heavy, sinking into the soft mattress. Almost ready to pass out then and there you feel Eren shuffle behind you, moaning as his cock slides against your walls, slowly drawing from your warmth.

He falls onto his back beside you with a sigh. “Come here.”

“Mmm.” You groan, still fucked out and limp with flattened pillows under your hips probably damp with his cum as you felt it leak from your hole.

He clicks his tongue and pulls you forward effortlessly by your arm, cradling you in his side. There was a long silence as you both lay there listening to the rhythm of each others breaths, content in the comfort you had both built after months of this routine.

When all this first began you refused to even look at each other after the fact, getting dressed and leaving the room immediately. But one drunken night when you woke up to find him still there beside you, arm around your waist and pulled into his chest, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. It soon became normal for you to lay like this, naked and vulnerable, listening to his heart beat.

“You okay?” He questions, still looking up at the ceiling.

“Tired.” You sigh softly. Your fingers traced the grooves of his chest, circling his pectoral mindlessly.

He exhales heavily. “Feel better?”

With a chuckle you trail your finger down his abdomen. “A little.”

The look he throws you has your smile grow wider. “Only a little?” He turns on his side, resting his head on his hand. “Still lying to me.”

“Gonna have to try a little harder than that, Yeager.” Teasingly you tap his nose, laughing at the way he frowns at your simple gesture.

He caresses your face with his free hand, running a thumb over your rosy lips. “You really think I don’t know you after all these years?” The question was longing, like he was reminiscing every encounter you two ever had.

“I didn’t think you paid that much attention after all these years.” You roll your eyes playfully.

“I’m observant.”

“You’re a nuisance.” You corrected, but despite your insult the smile never left your face.

“You love me.” The rebuttal caught you off guard, unsure if he was joking or not as his tone remained serious.

“Are you drunk, Yeager? Why would I ever love you?”

His face draws toward yours knowingly. “You wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.”

“I-I could say the same for you.” You deflect, gesturing to his figure.

Did he really want to admit his feelings for you, after having pushed them down for so long? Did he even have feelings for you? When he saw you on the dancefloor for the first time tonight his stomach erupted in a flutter of butterflies. Not to mention when he watched the way you smiled and laughed with Jean. Who the fuck was he anyway? Some corporate kiss-ass who shovelled shit for a living. Transport, what was Jean’s transport company compared to the medical empire Eren was managing? Is that what impressed you? What you liked? He followed the way Jean’s hands glided along your body, like he knew where to touch you, how to make you…

“Eren.” Your soft voice breaks him from deep thought. You look at him with those eyes you do, the ones that somehow manage to break his resolve every time.

“Let’s get you to a bath.” He smiles at you sadly, laying a kiss on your forehead and getting up from the bed. His fingers rake through dishevelled hair before offering you an outstretched hand.

You witnessed the way his green eyes dulled as they bore into yours sullenly. His expression was placid, unreadable as it always was when he decided to shut you out, an action you’d become all too familiar with as you came back to the reality of the situation.

Not wanting to question him on it you take his hand. “Lead the way.”

PART TWO

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johnkahner · 6 months

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A Stray Cat in a Strange Place [Part 2]

AN: Part 2 of the story I started to write. I gave the cat a name because Fujin wouldn't actually know your name. It's not mentioned often, but I just wanted to let you know before reading. Also I imagine Fujin being really protective of his newly adopted cat. I had fun writing this, so I hope you all enjoy it! Not proof read.

Notes: Platonic Relationships, Gender-Neutral! Cat! Reader, fluff

Part 1 - Part 3

“The little one doesn’t seem to like any of these names, Fujin.”

The elder brother noted to the younger brother. Who knew coming up with a name for a pet would be so hard!? Fujin wanted his new family member to have a wonderful name, but he also wanted you to like it too! He was wondering if you were even listening to him now that made him pout a little.

You stretch your body out and yawn. Looking at your new friend you move to nuzzle him. Raiden watches how the two of you interact with one another. He wants to pet you, but he doesn’t want to in front of his younger brother. He felt like Fujin would jest with him about his demeanor change towards you.

Fujin picks you up to walk over towards the window, and opens it so you both could enjoy the pleasant breeze. His eyes widened. Like a new inspiration shot him. He looks down at you. Tilting your head to the side and responding with a questionable meow. He laughs at your reaction. He thought it was so cute.

“I thought of a new name!”

“You have now?”

“Yes! I think it would suit this little one quite well!”

Raiden raises an eyebrow to Fujin. Fujin turns around to see his reaction, having a wide smile on his own face.

“Haruka! Or maybe Haru for short? What do you two think?”

You meow at him. You don’t mind the name. It has a nice ring to it. You look over to see Raiden’s reaction. He appears to be in thought.

“It seems they like the name, and I think it does quite suit them as well.”

Fujin pulls you into a tight hug, thankfully it wasn’t too tight to hurt you any. Raiden stiffens when he sees that you could be distraught now.

“I’m overjoyed that you have a name now, Haruka!”

“Fujin, perhaps you shouldn’t be squeezing Haruka like that. They don’t seem too… comfortable right now.”

Panic filled his eyes. He didn’t want to hurt you. He just wanted to show you the affection you deserve. He lays you down on the bed. You feel an instinct to attack something, and your victim is the bedding on Fujin’s bed. You can’t control your cat urges. Swatting at the covers, and rolling around on them, has the two chuckling lightly at your performance.

That was until someone came knocking on the door. A brand new face appears, you wonder how many people lived here exactly and where exactly were you. The new man looks at you slightly confused.

“Lord Raiden, Lord Fujin the monks said there was something they needed to discuss with the two of you.”

Maybe this is your chance to roam around and see what the rest of your new home looks like. The two men sigh, just when things were getting right on track. Raiden looks at the young man.

“Liu Kang, could you watch over Haruka for us?”

“Yes I can, Lord Raiden.” He bows, then he rises to look at you.

So this man is named Liu Kang. At least it didn’t take long to learn his name. Wait. Did he call the grumpy man ‘Lord’? What the hell? This just adds to your questions about this duo. You look at the three of them and release a little meow not sure what to do now.

Fujin goes to pet your head. You nuzzle into the palm of his hand purring.

“I’ll return as fast as I can.”

He smiles at you gently. While Raiden only nods at you. They leave the room to go see what the monks needed. Liu Kang and you are now left alone in the room. You head towards the door, turn to look at him, and meow indicating for him to follow you. He grins at you with a light chuckle.

Walking around the temple was quite the adventure. However, not long during the trip Liu Kang decided to pick you and carry you around. He walks by the training grounds, and soon a voice is shouting at Liu Kang. When he turns he sees a man wearing a funny looking hat, but it’s different from the one you’ve seen Raiden wear. This man’s hat seems more dangerous with the blade that is around the rim of it. It scares you a little, causing your ears to go back. Liu Kang pets you trying to calm your nerves.

“When did you get a cat?”

“This is the cat that Lord Fujin brought with him when he returned.”

You still try to hide from the man. Liu Kang speaks again.

“I think you’re scaring them, Kung Lao.”

“Huh? How am I even scary?”

He seems baffled at his friend's words. You want to run away right now. You want to be near Fujin, or maybe Raiden. You feel uncomfortable right now. Maybe if you hiss, Liu Kang would set you down on the ground, but you don’t want to cause him any harm if you were to scratch him.

When you hiss and growl at the two, and just as you hope Liu Kang sets you down on the ground. As soon as your paws are on the ground, you bolt off. They are shocked by your actions. Liu Kang shouts and runs after you in a panic. Kung Lao is just confused by what happened. Not long after he follows after the two.

The two ran past you. Thankfully you were able to quickly hide from them. You want to be by yourself for a moment, so it would hopefully be easier for you to calm down. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Carefully looking both ways you try to find Fujin.

As the two men were running looking for you. They failed to notice that some of the monks were staring at them. Unfortunately for them, they failed to notice that Fujin was also staring at them. Fujin walks over to them.

“What are you two doing?”

They look at each other. Liu Kang gulps.

“Lord Fujin, I can explain!”

As you were wandering around, someone approached you to pick you up. Your body tenses at the contact then tries to wiggly away not knowing who this was. You weren’t familiar with how you were being held, and you also had your eyes closed.

“Relax, little one.”

Perking up at the voice of who held you. You open your eyes to see none other than Raiden. Well, he wasn’t Fujin, but he did hold you gently. You meowed at him.

“What are you even doing out here? And where’s Liu Kang?”

He looks around not seeing him anywhere in sight. He looks angry. You wish he wasn’t, it wasn’t Liu Kang’s fault but your own. However, you can’t exactly tell Raiden that though. You look at him and begin to purr hoping it may calm his anger. He sighs, letting you nuzzle his hand.

“Now let’s go find that brother of mine, shall we?”

You meow in agreement, excited to see Fujin once again. You hope that Liu Kang won’t get into too much trouble, and you honestly don’t know if that other guy would get in trouble. You’ll just have to wait and see.

As Raiden approaches his brother, you can see him yelling at someone. Unfortunately it is Liu Kang on the receiving end of his anger. Liu Kang’s head is down listening to Fujin’s angry words.

“Brother, that’s enough.”

Fujin turns around to see you in Raiden’s arms. He forgets about Liu Kang, and runs over to Raiden. He grabs, hugs you, and gives you little kisses on your head. You were purring. Looking over to Liu Kang you feel bad. You try to struggle out of Fujin’s grasp. Succeeding you walk over to Liu Kang meowing sadly. You want to apologize for your actions.

Liu Kang bends down to pet you. You hope he understands what you were trying to say. He smiles gently at you.

“It’s okay, Haruka.”

“What happened, Liu Kang?”

Raiden inquires about the events that transpired after they left. Liu Kang begins to explain what happened to the two men. Before, when he was on the receiving end of Fujin’s anger he barely got a chance to explain what exactly happened.

“We were on a walk. I think they wanted to see what was outside Lord Fujin’s room. During our walk, we encountered Kung Lao, and they seemed to be scared of him. Not long after that they ran off. We were looking for Haruka. When Lord Fujin caught us, Kung Lao went off to go find them while I stayed here.”

The brothers were looking at Liu Kang then at you. You nodded your head at his words.

“Why were they afraid of Kung Lao though?”

“Haruka seemed scared when they saw his hat.”

Liu Kang’s words caused Fujin to laugh. He never thought you would be afraid of a hat. Your afraid reaction at the mention of the cat only seemed to prove his theory. Fujin picks you up again trying to soothe you. Telling you that you are safe, and that Kung Lao’s hat wouldn’t get you.

You felt your stomach rumble. You nibble on Fujin’s hand to try to give him the hint. He chuckles, and it seems that the anger he felt earlier had all disappeared now. He walks off to the kitchen area to prepare some food for you. Raiden and Liu Kang follow not too far behind him.

You wonder if this will be how your life will be now. As long as Fujin is there to help you, you don’t mind. You like the people you’ve met so far. Maybe next time you meet Kung Lao, you’ll try to get to know him better.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk fujin #mk raiden #fujin x reader #raiden x reader #platonic relationships #no romantic relationships

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fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 2 months

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Dressed all in white (Sihtric Kjartansson x reader)

synopsis: When Sihtric and you meet life feels like a dream. Never in a thousand years could you have thougth such heaven could turn into such hell.

warnings: heavy angst, emotional manipulation, hurt/comfort but very little comfort, grief, physical violence, afab reader

word count: 3.1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @foxyanon @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: This is probably one of my darker fics, so please know that it is completely okay to save this and read later if you currently aren´t in the right headspace. If you have recently lost someone close to you please know that eventhough it will suck and it is important that it sucks for a while it will get easier eventually. And if it doesn´t, counceling is always a good option imo

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It almost felt like a dream now, thinking back to that evening. A beautiful dream you wish would have never passed. But every dream had to end sometime. The end to yours was Sihtric standing by the docks of your hometown after a months long stay, hugging you tightly as he kissed you on the forehead and promised to write as often as he could.

“Do not cry, my love. I will return to you before you know it.” It was the only consolation you got.

That and half of his lord Uthred´s crew. Amongst them, Finan. As Sihtric and you had grown closer, so had the Irish man and you, though in a far more platonic sense. Ever since that night you felt like the dream that now ended began. As you stand there, Finan´s arm around your shoulder. As you wave off Sihtric until the ship is barely a spec on the horizon, you allow yourself to reminisce about the night you all had met.

There had been word of a large group of Danes having come to town all day. No matter where you went you would become privy to whispers about the large group of men. How their leader was a Saxon raised by Danes nicknamed the Dane slayer. The rumours made your mind run wild with imagining how this Dane slayer would look like. All your brain could come up with, was the picture of a beast of a man. Tall, covered in muscles and scars with long hair and a long beard. A barbarian, in short. Which was all but not what greeted you at the tavern that evening.

Long before you set foot over the threshold you could hear the screaming and laughing and music. A big group of Danes had taken over the tavern and in the midst of them sat the Dane slayer himself, Uhtred Ragnarsson, with three of his seemingly closest men. Throughout the night there was an abundance of food and ale, men and women started dancing on the tables to the music and you were no different from them. Finding yourself pulled into a conversation with the Irish man and the Dane, shocked yet fascinated by their stories and in the end, being spun around by them to lively melody after lively melody, singing dancing and laughing until the very ungodly hours of the morning. The two men had you laughing until your tummy hurt and kept you on your feet until your legs ached. When the time came to go home, or rather to choose who to take home with you, your choice fell onto Sihtric. In hindsight you weren´t even sure why your decision fell on him, all you knew was that it was easy to decide. For some odd reason the Danes soul felt like it was calling out to you.

One night turned into many and your choice that fateful night only proved to have been the right one. Finan was sweet to you, but Sihtric was infinitely sweeter. After only a short while you had no room left in your small house for the heap of flowers that he gifted you, he never talked over you in conversation and made a point to include you as best as possible and the best thing was that he listened. He actually listened with great interest, storing each new thing he learned about you somewhere easily reachable in his brain. He was perfect, life was good for a while. If only he hadn´t followed Uhtred back to sea.

Not long after he had left, the letters he had promised to send stopped coming out of nowhere, even though he had just promised to marry you as soon as he came back.

Reams of miles away Sihtric thought and worried endlessly about the same, you had sounded beyond happy about his promise in the last letter only to then suddenly stop writing out of nowhere. That´s when he received a letter that would explain the absence of any writing in all the worst ways.

He was alone when he opened the envelope addressed to him. It´s contents talked about how he had left you behind pregnant, a fact that made his heart beat higher, the overwhelming happiness overshadowed the fact that you had not told him yourself or the absence of any communication for a moment. Only for it to end with his heart sinking into before unknown depths and his vision to veil with tears as he continued reading. There had been complications and you, as well as the child, had died. The paper is crumpled in his fist before he can read the expressions of condolences, he didn´t care for them anyway. The scream that leaves his lungs goes unregistered by his own ears, but it is heard by many others.

Little did he know that at approximately the same time a very alive and unpregnant you received a similar letter. Stating that there had been a disaster too cruel to recount to you, that there weren´t many survivors. However, Sihtric was not amongst them. Leaving behind only tear-stained nights and dreams of what could have been.

It felt like your life stopped the moment you had opened the envelope. An unending numbness filled your body. Each month you had known Sihtric converted to a year of mourning his loss and you weren´t sure what was worse. The longing and yearning for nothing more than to have him back with you under any circumstances, not talking, eating or sleeping at all or far too much. The inner coldness no matter how many layers of clothes or furs you wore, that only got worse the more the sun shone. Or realising that life had to move and allowing yourself to live again. Even in just small ways. The first time you actually ate, slept, went about your day as before, the first time Finan managed to make you laugh for the first time in what felt like forever send you spiralling all over again. But you allowed yourself to be comforted by the Irish man, who had a seemingly way easier time handling the news than you did.

“How do you do it?” You asked him one afternoon as you sat together.

“How do I do what?” Came the fairly confused question back.

“Be so fine to live on without him. Laugh. It feels like he took even the colours of the world away when he died.” You mutter the forgotten context into the room.

“Ah…” Finan makes a quiet sound of recognition, thinking deeply about his next words. “I believe it is because we all have made our piece with the fact long ago. Our lives were never quite as safe as yours, especially out on the sea, where every storm could mean the end if you are not careful.”

“Oh…” You feel stupid for your answer or perhaps even asking the question, but you didn´t know what else to say.

Silence settles over the two of you again like a stone slab.

“It is so hard to believe that he is supposed to be gone and I am still here, having to go on. He was so sweet; he did not deserve this.” Your eyes begin to burn, though you aren´t sure if it is from tears of the past or present.

“I know.” There isn´t much more Finan can answer.

“I love him so much still.” Your voice nearly gives out under the familiar knot that builds in your throat.

“I know.” Finan pulls you onto his lap, to lay your ear on his chest.

The gesture had always comforted you when you cried over the thought of Sihtric leaving one day. He had let you listen to his heart to remind you that he would always be there for you. If not in physical form, then in soul and heart.

“You need only to close your eyes and think back to this moment. Then you will know I am still with you.” Your Dane lover had rasped into your ear and for as long as you thought him alive you lived by it.

When you eventually met a new man, you couldn´t help but to compare him to Sihtric and find he was different in so many ways. Naturally. He was still nice and caring and funny, but even the beating of his heart was different to Sihtrics. Not only because it was there, but the rhythm it drummed against his ribcage was fundamentally so contrasting. The way his arms wrapped around you felt different and you have to confront the fact that things would never feel the same. Yet over time the strong, vibrant pulse began to drown out the steady beat you fell in love with. And so, when you allowed for people to enter your heart again, the wish of being able to be okay with living became a wish to share your life more intimately with the man than before. After all, he had made every effort possible to make you as happy as his former crew mate would have. And though you had sworn to only ever love one man, you were overjoyed when the man proposed to you. Or at least that was how you interpret the way your own heart, which had thawed entirely only shortly ago, beat a few deep pulses before returning to normal. The ceremony is arranged to be held by father Beocca at your future husbands house, your friends help you into the dress, braid flowers into your hair and do their best to calm your nerves and dry your tears. But still when it is time to leave for the ceremony, you are unsure if you are truly ready.

At approximately the same time a boat arrives at the docks. On it Uhtred, Sihtric and the rest of the crew. It had been so long, yet seeing the town made Sihtric´s throat tighten as memories of you flood his mind. He had almost obsessively studied the last letter containing information of your status and it had been too painful to return. But Uhtred was right. He couldn´t let that hurt take control over his life. So now he found himself wandering through the greenfield the two of you had spent so much time laying close, talking about everything and nothing all the same. The tavern you met at. Even just the town square and lastly… your home. Where, if it hadn´t already, all the colour would have drained from the Dane´s face. It felt like a hallucination at first. One that took away his voice and nearly made him fall to his knees. The desperation for the moment to be real wore him down as if someone had slit open his stomach, put boulders into it and sewed it shut again. He stumbles and almost falls multiple times, calling your name until you turn to see him.

“Sihtric…” You whisper and slap a hand over your mouth, getting the attention of the women surrounding you. The bouquet in your hands falls to the ground in favour of them grabbing and lifting the skirt of your dress to pull it up out of the way of your feet. The whispers around are drowned out by a high-pitched ringing in your ears and without having to think about it, your feet carry you towards the only man you ever loved.

Once his arms wrap around you it is like something shakes the fundament of the earth. The world becomes more colourful again, air fully fills your lungs for the first time in forever and the tears that burn in your eyes are for once uncoined by grief, yet the sense of longing, that had plagued your soul for so long, prevailed. The scent of wet wood and musk fills your nose, followed by the comforting undertones of honey and black pepper to soothe your mind.

“You are real…” Sihtric is the one to speak first.

“The much more pressing question here is how you are alive?” You answer, leaning back in his arms to look at his face as your hands cup his face. Even feeling the skin under your finger pads couldn´t completely convince you that this moment was real.

“Me? How are you still alive?” Sihtric´s eyebrows knit together tightly, the frown on his lips deepening further in confusion.

By now a small cluster of people had collected, watching the reunion and whispering behind their hands a small distance away. In search of an answer, you turn to them, hoping to find your future husband, so he could give an explanation, but he seemed to still wait inside. Unaware of what was going on. Unaware of what was going to happen soon.

“Me? You were the one that stopped writing first. And then I got a letter that said… It said that you...” It´s too hard to actually say the words, but Sihtric understands nevertheless.

He is just about to say something, when the door to your home opened and Finan stepped out, assumingly to look where you were, eyes widening at the sight of his friend. Yet there is no time for any more reunion feelings, as the Irish man is closely followed by your husband to be.

Sihtric´s eyes widen in understanding before yours do and you have a hard time holding him back, but the men just have too much strength. The Dane lands a hard punch in the man´s face, splitting his lip with his knuckles and drawing some blood. There are screams heard from the crowd and immediately a handful of men have to pull them apart before anything worse happens.

“Stop it! Stop it this instant you two!” You scream repeatedly at the top of your lungs, yet it still takes a while until the spirits have been calmed enough to at least have the two men not struggle against the men parting them anymore.

However, there is no way to get an explanation from anyone as they continue to scream at each other from a distance. Spouting insults that you had never heard before in your life.

Then Sihtric silences everyone with three powerful yet simple words. “Make the square!”

There are protests from several of the men, but in the end, everything goes all too fast. You are frozen to the ground you are standing on, so Finan pulls you aside. Sihtric presses a kiss to your lips and mutters a promise that your brain is unable to register. All you can focus on is the weapons being drawn. Your brain doesn´t even register the hot tears that stream down your cheeks and stain the fabric of the dress. The first sound of the blades meeting each other, has you burying your face in Finan´s chest, resounding in your ears horrifically. You can´t stand to watch most of it, shaking and flinching with every sound of blades clashing or pained scream. You have to force yourself to watch eventually when you can´t deal with the anxiety and uncertainty anymore. Frantic eyes searched for Sihtric. Finding him, covered in dirt, blood and panting, but still standing and to your relief with a good chance at winning. Though you don´t allow yourself to cheer like the others yet. There is still too much shock in your bones, too many unresolved questions plaguing your mind. You manage to get so caught up in your thoughts, that you only come to, when the fight seems to be close to over. Luckily in favour of your one true love, which now stands above the man you were about to marry, a dagger you hadn´t noticed the Dane carrying before, to his throat. From the distance you can see the raw fear in the man´s widely opened eyes and rapidly rising and sinking chest, clawing at the Danes wrist to get him to let go of the weapon to no avail. That fear quickly morphs to relief, exhaled in a deep breath and relaxing facial features, when Sihtric puts the dagger into the ground beneath his head, the blade sticking out upright. Only to morph back into the purest horror just as quickly as before, when the first fist swiftly comes down onto his face. A crack can be heard when the knuckles make contact with the bridge of the nose, thus breaking it without even batting an eye.

Air suddenly floods your lungs in a gasp at the cracking sound, but silently find yourself cheering on your one true love more and more as time passes. Your own body doesn´t listen to you anymore. Your eyes are dead focussed on the sight of his fist making contact with the face over and over and over again, even long after the resistance had stopped and he had clearly won as his opponent’s face was nothing more than bloody pulp. It was gruelling, haunting to see, but your head would have refused to turn away even if you had wanted it to. So, you continue watching and watching and watching until it becomes glaringly clear that Sihtric is not going to stop anytime soon. You aren´t the only one to have that realisation, it glimmers in Finan and Uhtred´s eyes as well. The two men pull their friend off the lifeless body and you are by his side in an instant. Cupping his face in your firm, but gentle hands, your eyes searching his until they make contact and in the corner of your field of vision you see the way his chest rises slow down.

“You have to stop now. It is over.” You urge him in a sore voice falling to your knees in front of him. “You won. It is over now.”

The Dane looks deep into your eyes, allowing your voice and words to soothe him, yet the anger took the ability to think clearly or speak from him still. Finan and Uhtred let him go and you can fall into his arms again without a care in the world about the pristine, white dress becoming dirty as well. All that matters is feeling Sihtric in your arms now as you keep murmuring to him. His entire body starts to tremble under the familiar touch and so does yours. You squeeze your eyes shut and pull him in tighter. You have trouble believing your own words. It doesn´t entirely feel over yet. Fear still gnaws on your heart, that he could vanish from your hold to leave behind nothing but a cloud of smoke and the pain of being awoken from yet another dream tricking you into thinking things hadn´t resolved in your favour. Fear that it was real, but he would be taken from you one day once more. The two of you likely couldn´t be further from having won. Or else, you think, the tears that now flow freely down both your faces to wet the others clothes wouldn´t be so bitter.

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