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#imagine mounting those

ge · 10 months

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my favourite tangchung romance route is the idea that even up until the war, they never got together but were very aware of each others feelings for one another.. unresolved romantic tension… drinking slowly from the same shared bottle like it wasnt the wine they were savouring, brushing pinky fingers when theyre sitting together but not going any further, longing glances when the other is turned away, night air thick and heady with something but not having the courage to do anything about it, practically teasing the idea of something more.. etc etc.. yupp..

#tangchung has sooo many flavours..its nuts #adding to this⬆️ i think it wuld make canon even more excruciatingly painful for chung myung..#that he had all of those chances and never took them..one brush of lips and tang bo wouldve fallen into him #but he didnt……. and now tang bo is dead and chung myung has to live w all those regrets for the rest of his life #god could you imagine something so intertwined with ur heart being ripped away so suddenly it leaves u gaping and in stunned shock #chung myung promising to live for tang bo and he does but only just barely.. living every day like lit fuse #coughs up blood…yea theyre crazy whatever.#return of the mount hua sect #return of the blossoming blade

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uschickens · 2 years

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::sits bolt upright::

Letterkenny!Iron Triangle. Wu Xie thinks he’s Wayne. He’s not. Xiaoge is Wayne. (Just, you know. Quieter. On the outside, at least.) Wu Xie is Daryl.

Pangzi and Squirrelly Dan are, of course, spiritual siblings. Like sister cities twinned in different countries, but people. If you check the public libraries of their souls, there will be identical discreet little displays of matching flags and, I don’t know, pictures of bridges they’ve both blown up.

Xiaoge and Pangzi would totally throw Wu Xie a Super Soft Birthday Party.

Can’t decide if Katy is Zhang Rishan or Xiao Hua. If it’s Xiao Hua, I think that makes Hei Xiazi simultaneously Reilly and Jonesy. It’s not a perfect fit, but Hei Xiazi would think it hilarious, which is good enough for me.

I don’t quite know who McMurray and Mrs. McMurray are, but Liu Sang is definitely Bonnie McMurray. (~~Bonnie McMurray~~)

And thus concludes your deeply niche content for the evening.

#dmbj #daomu blorbji #fandom mashup #this post brought to you by #honestly I don’t even know #it’s been a weird few weeks #but tell me Pangzi is not Squirrelly Dan #and I’ll show you a liar or a fool #henceforth I will be imagining xiaoge mouthing off like wayne #but #like #internally #every time the iron triangle shares one of those deeply meaningful round robin stares #you KNOW they’ve had similar bullshit arguments while neckdeep in a tomb somewhere #if anyone could mount a cogent argument of why ants could ride skidoos with only his eyebrows #it’s zhang goddamn qiling

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specshroom · 2 months

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So I read that lemurs scoop their competitor's sperm out of females with their tongues. I don't actually know if that's true but...

JUST IMAGINE.

You're found by a troop of these half lemur half human creatures in the forest. Basically a human but with lemur traits, striped tails, huge eyes, furry ears, little snouts and long prehensile tongues, the whole shabang.

It's not long before one or two of them are rubbing up on you, rubbing their scent glands on you which, unbeknownst to you, works as a pretty strong aphrodisiac to humans.

They struggle your back pack and clothes off, leaving you just as naked as they are. You might have been more concerned about that if it wasn't for one of them shoving his strange tongue down your throat and rubbing the scent glands on his wrists all over your naked skin. The pheromones have made you putty in their hands. Two kneel on the ground in front of you and lick up your thighs, feverishly sniffing and lapping at your wet pussy.

After a bit of a skirmish one of them finally mounts and fucks you, much to the others displeasure. It's fast and needy, his arms holding you around the waist to hit those good spots inside you. As you look up at the trees you notice there are many more in this troop than you realised, watching you from the high branches.

The one fucking you finally cums deep inside you. He licks and nibbles at your tits until another one gets impatient and pushes him off starting a fight between them. The sneaky third one takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue into your pussy and scoop out the first's cum, repeatedly dragging his rough tongue along your walls. When he feels he's dragged out enough cum he quickly thrusts himself inside you and fucks you at an alarming pace. Biting your shoulder and neck with his small but sharp teeth. His balls slap against your ass as his load replaces the first one's.

Imagine this process just repeating over and over again, they almost make a game of it. One cums inside and another scoops it out again and again. You can do little but lay there and moan on the forest floor, absolutely cock drunk, just being filled and emptied and filled and emptied.

You become the troops new play thing or maybe you'll join the troop if one of their many loads takes.

#monsterfucker #monster x reader #nsft writing #nsft fantasy #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster lover #monster fucker

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yanderenightmare · 4 months

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TW: nsfw, dubcon, hybrid au, size difference

fem reader

Thinking up so many tasty tidbits about hybrid au…

Being a normal human girl mating a beast and constantly needing to plant your hands at your hips and give him a firm “no” as though speaking down to an actual dog – and how fucking odd it is to him that you express free will as though you shouldn’t naturally submit to him like a normal female would when approached by a male – bearing your wet pussy for him and just begging him to breed you full...

It’s only natural for your beast boyfriend to mount you without asking – like you’re only two animals mating out in the wild. So you can imagine the dumbfounded look slapped on his face when you refuse – saying you’re busy with your hand placed on his chest, giving him a push that doesn't make him budge but manages to make his tail droop until it’s sweeping the floor.

It’s so unnatural to him. You’re a female, and he’s a bull. You should be bending over the second you see him, not ignore him – and definitely not reject him.

Like... he expects you to roll over and let him make you his bitch, but instead, you’re walking circles around him while laying down something you call “ground rules.” Telling him he has to stop biting your neck unless he wants to wear a muscle – that he has to shower at least once every other day or else you won’t touch him – and that he has to stop scenting you with that heady musk that smells of sweaty ballsack and dickcheese oryou’re not letting him touch you at all.

It all makes him pout with a gruff – almost growling at you, thinking a weakling like you should have no say over an alpha like him. And yet he’s on his knees for a taste of your pussy at the end of every day despite it – acting as though he cannot rest without it, as though he would starve to death.

In the end, he does everything you ask – just like a tamed pet. It’s cute.

He was so, so very skeptical when you’d convinced him to allow you to be on top for once. He was so rigid, lying there, belly-up – watching your every move with a predator’s glare as though he planned to pounce on you at any given moment – looking a mix of confused and aroused when you rolled your hips and rode him – hissing and grumbling beneath his breath as though he didn’t exactly know what to do with himself except lie there and take it.

But although you’re able to convince him of most things, there are still those instincts you’ll never win against…

The way he just huffs and ignores you when you tell him to pull out instead of flooding your womb with cum – kneading his cock into your deepest parts while pinning you flat in a mating press that has your feet going behind your head.

Not to mention that time you tried making him wear a condom – to which he only snorted as if it were some bad joke he didn’t find funny – rearing your cunt with his raw cock leaking pre, telling you to stop fooling around and start begging to be bred full of his pups like a good bitch.

BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Hawks

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji,

DS – Sanemi, Akaza, Inosuke, Genya

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut

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m-ayo-o · 4 months

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　✦　˚ pink skirt . no underwear ★⋆. ࿐࿔

𐙚 afab reader x shy alt bf Choso Kamo

*　✦　.　　nsfw cw: fingering ˚　. * ✦　˚　. 　　

Choso is starting to think you're doing it on purpose.

He's losing his mind.

If he sees you bend over like that one more time, he swears he's gonna have to--

"Fuck-"

He mutters and looks away.

His fantasies of pushing the skimpy material up to feel your creamy pussy in his hand riddles his mind until he goes pink in the cheeks. He has to play with the ring hooked through his bottom lip to distract himself. But he knows that you'll find out what he's thinking eventually. You always do.

He sighs and feels his boner strapped tight in his jeans that's rubbing with every movement of his body. If he so much as breathes he can feel the heavy pulse of his cock. It's beating hard for you and he can't stop it.

"Baby, you okay?"

He tries to adjust himself under your gaze and he props himself up, attempting to hide the massive bulge.

"Mm," he nods stiffly, but you can see he's suffering.

Your eyes drift over his body in those black jeans, his black tank, admiring the tattoos adorned on his rippling muscles. His silvery studded necklace gets your attention, then his lip and ear piercings and the faded, violet shadows around his deep eyes.

He stares back at you; your tits nearly spilling from your tiny white vest, the pleated pastel mini skirt that just hides your ass, and the way you look at him with such wide eyed adoration.

Fuck, how did a guy like him end up with someone like you.

"Come here, please."

Choso has got a bit better about telling you when he needs you.

"Here, yeah," he nods and watches you mount his lap. Your skirt fans over his thighs and he can't stop imagining your pussy underneath.

"What is it, baby?" You coo and twist his spiky locks in your fingers, that are flicking down over his neck.

You never thought someone who looked like him could be so... clueless.

He seemed quite inexperienced when you met him, yet he insisted he'd had a few sexual partners before. It's not as if he's innocent. Oh no, far from it. You know, with the way he stares at you, there are all sorts of perverted thoughts in his head. He's just a little shy.

"I, uh..." the way he stumbles over his words makes your heart race. He's so endearing.

You lower yourself onto him, sitting on his lap and feeling the bulge of his cock through his hard jeans.

"Baby, tell me," your delicate fingers trace the ink up his neck to where it stops at his jaw, "tell me what you need."

"W-want-" he stutters and sighs.

You smile sweetly, encouraging him.

"I- I want to touch you."

"Oh, baby, good boy," you place a chaste kiss on his cheekbone.

"Where, hm?" You press, stroking his swollen chest.

"I..." he finds the courage to snake a hand up the curve of your back. The rings on his fingers feel cool where he settles around your neck, stroking you softly.

He pulls you close and gives you a nervous look before quietly admitting-

"I want to finger you."

You smile and giggle, knowing that this big, scary looking man could barely tell you that.

You give his lips a peck, then take his breath away when your tongue slides over his. He's so stunned he almost forgets to kiss you back, until he regains an inch of composure and starts licking and sucking at you.

"You're so sweet, Choso~" you smile over his lips before pulling away and dragging his hand down south. Your tiny hand encircles his inked wrist, barely fitting around the muscle of his forearm, and his fingers start twitching when you guide him under your skirt.

"Mm- warm-" he groans and slides his fingers over your bare pussy, parting you slowly, rubbing up and down. Despite his shy nature, he has got very good at touching you.

His hand parts your legs wider and his eyes dip up and down your clothed body. You look so pretty like this. His dark eyes focus on your face and you feel his fingertips edge into your entrance. Your expression starts to contort and your mouth hangs open. His breathing gets a bit shaky now, his eyes trained on your parted lips.

He sinks inside. Two fingers; ringed, thick and deep.

You shudder and his free hand caresses your back, steadying you on his lap as he presses his palm all the way to your pelvis.

"B-big-"

There's a pleased spark in his dull eyes and he bites his lip, feeling your silky, wet walls around him. He spreads his digits, opening you gently with your mouth gaping wider in tandem.

"Oh-"

You let out a little noise that encourages him to dip and curl his fingers. He finds his favourite spot inside you that makes his angelic girlfriend look like some kind of pornstar.

He massages you there with his fingertips, barely moving, feeling you grinding down on his knuckles.

"M-more-"

"Baby- I, I-"

"More, please-"

You should know better.

"I can't take it when you beg for me like that."

He holds your thigh gently and drags his fingers out, pulling them from under your skirt and oggling the slick juice all over his hand. Just from a few gentle movements you get like this. For him.

You watch lust completely take over and he sinks his fingers into his mouth, sucking every last drop of you off and leaving his digits coated in saliva.

He brings them back under your skirt and plunges inside you, hard rings nudging your entrance with every rough pump.

And he watches you scream.

Every time he slams his fingers into you his palm slaps your clit and you get sweet, jolting pleasure through your abdomen. You feel tense and hot and his thumb suddenly slips over your bundle of nerves, circling you quickly and making you cum hard and fast.

"Ch-cho - Choso-"

You pant for breath but his fingers are unrelenting.

"Again."

His voice sounds rough, deep and full of confidence.

It makes you quiver and shake and he grabs you more firmly, seeing your eyes go wide with shock when he picks you up.

He plants you on the fluffy carpet and kneels between your legs, pushing up your skirt to reveal his wet dream.

His fantasy.

"I love you"

You don't know if he's talking to you or your pussy but you really don't care.

He stares at all the gushing, clear liquid that's leaked all over your folds, over your thighs, dripping from one hole down to the other.

He sinks down and has a smile on his face, shoving his fingers back inside and toying with your clit with his spare hand.

He loves playing with you like this, adoring the look on your face every time you cum. He wants you to do it again and again, making you call his name, spilling more of your essence, all for him. He licks it off his fingers and hand like some thirsty beast and doesn't show any signs of slowing down.

But you knew what you agreed to. When Choso asks to touch you it usually is for a very long time.

He has to take you over the edge numerous times, obsessing over the feeling of you cumming and the way your face looks. And when your orgasms start to fade and you're just a wet, leaking mess with a hole spread wide from his greedy fingers, you have to take a few deep breaths and tell him to calm down.

He gets the message and slowly draws his fingers out one final time, tugging your hole with his thumbs and seeing you gape open. He bows his head down, sinking into your stomach where he presses soft kisses.

You play with his hair gently and he coos into your soft skin, telling you how much he loves you and needs you till you feel his hot tears running over your tummy.

You comfort him and tell him he did so well, until he dries his eyes and gives you a smile, bringing you up for a hug.

"W-won't get so carried away- next time- promise."

You hope he does. In fact, you're counting on it.

choso | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #female reader #18+ content #choso drabble #choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso baby <3

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dark-fics-4-you · 2 months

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Thinking about dark overprotective Rafe Cameron with pregnant clumsy reader 🥹💕

Love Plus One

A/N: i hope this lives up to your fantasies 😉

Warnings: noncon/forced sex, coercion, smut, forced pregnancy (but reader doesn’t know), pregnant sex, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, choking, slut shaming, slapping, controlling behavior, threats of violence, reader has some negative thoughts about her pregnant body

After the first time that you slipped in the shower without Rafe there to catch you, despite that fact that you had easily caught yourself before falling, Rafe had made you promise to not take any more showers without him. “If I had been there, you probably wouldn’t have slipped in the first place,” he grumbled.

Rafe suddenly became very involved in prepping and cooking meals for you. He gave you plenty of options, planning weekly menus for you and shopping accordingly, all to make sure that both you, and his baby, were getting all of the nutrients you needed. Rafe always did love your cooking, but now he chose to cook for you practically every night. “You shouldn’t have to be running around the kitchen when you’re pregnant, baby.”

You noticed one day that there was a location tracking app on your phone that you hadn’t downloaded, when you angrily asked Rafe about it, the look of worry on his face almost made you want to cry, “I just get anxious when you’re out sweetheart. The world is full of men that would love nothing more than to hurt you, and I did that to make sure you were staying safe, Y/N.” His eyes flicked between your eyes and your growing belly, which was now beginning to show much more. After that you apologized to him for getting mad about it, giving him a big hug.

Rafe would want to spend all of his time with you, which you found cute at first, but after a while, you started to feel a bit suffocated by him. Your boyfriend was so concerned about “keeping you safe” that he would barely allow you to leave your shared house.

Even walking around the neighborhood or, god forbid, running, was completely off limits.

You knew that it was because you were clumsy, he was right. You always had been, but now was not the time for being accident prone. Not when you had Rafe Cameron’s child growing inside of you.

However, you did feel like at times he could be overprotective of you. Even demeaning occasionally. Like he didn’t trust you to make your own decisions.

When you drove to the store at just 4 months pregnant, Rafe called you 5 times before you finally picked up. You had just wanted to get out of the house for a bit and enjoy the spring air while getting some chores done, but when you returned home one would have thought that you had been skiing on Mount Everest, given Rafe’s reaction. “Why would you leave without telling me? I would have gone to the store for you, Y/N! You shouldn’t have even been carrying those bags by yourself!” Pointing out how little you had actually ended up purchasing, just two plastic bags worth of things, was pointless. “You could have fallen or-or some guy could have kidnapped you!” He huffed, and you could feel the list of locations you could go alone, or even with Rafe, dwindling down to only one place, your apartment.

Rafe had always been incredibly touchy with you, one of the reasons you had gotten pregnant with his baby in the first place. It’s not that you didn’t want kids, you had just always imagined that it would have been different, you would be older and married, and living in a 2 story house with your husband of several years.

Instead, here you were, still in your early 20s, pregnant with your boyfriend of 3 years’ child. You loved Rafe and could see yourself marrying him one day, but you were both still so young! Getting pregnant this early had never been in the plans.

Despite using birth control and condoms, you had somehow gotten pregnant, a fact that took you a while to accept, and after Rafe urged you to not get an abortion, you begrudgingly accepted that you were going to be a mother a couple years sooner than expected.

Of course, you had no idea that this was no accident at all. Rafe had been swapping out your birth control pills for placebos and poking holes in every condom he put on. Of course one of his favorite things about you being pregnant was that he could finally fuck you raw now.

Pregnancy hormones had definitely upped your libido at the beginning of your pregnancy, a fact that thrilled Rafe. He had never felt so desired by you, and he was more than happy to oblige with all of your requests.

Anytime you were feeling under the weather or upset about something, Rafe would coax you into bed and eat you out for what felt like hours. He loved your changing body so much, always kissing and sucking on your full, sensitive breasts and rubbing your growing tummy. The blond would slowly delve between your plush thighs, gingerly kissing and nipping at your soft skin before turning his attention to your already slick pussy, eagerly lapping up your juices and teasing your clit.

Rafe loved to satisfy you, but he also loved to draw it out as long as possible, keeping you on the brink of coming for ten minutes before finally giving in to your begging whimpers. He loved the feeling of you coming on his tongue, the way you tasted and how you squirmed in his grasp, tears forming in your eyes when you whined that it was too much for you.

You would come again just from him teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your messy slit and tapping it against your already tender clit.

When he pushed all of himself inside of you, you hissed in a wonderful mix of pleasure and pain, wrapping your legs around his waist and digging your nails into his broad shoulders.

Rafe loved watching your face as he fucked you, the way your eyes would unfocus as you looked up at him, your plump lips separating and the beautiful sound of your moans and whimpers was almost enough to make him bury his load in you immediately, but the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his cock was a sensation he didn’t want to give up just yet.

He plunged himself into your dripping pussy over and over again, filling you up in a way that made your eyes squeeze shut, toes curling as you clung to him.

After you came a third time, tensing around him and crying as you mindlessly babbled through whimpers, Rafe’s large hand covered your mouth, and the doe eyes you gave him as he frantically rutted into you made him spill all of his warm cum into your soaked cunt.

Every time he pulled out of you, he would reach for your sensitive pussy, spreading your lips and watching his cum begin to drip out of you before pushing it deeper inside your pussy with two fingers. God he wished he could get you pregnant again while you were already pregnant. Just one kid wasn’t enough for Rafe Cameron, and unbeknownst to you, he had plans for the two of you to have a large family.

Gradually, as your body changed, so did your sex drive. Rafe showered you with compliments as always, reminding you constantly how much he loved your body and the way it looked now, which made you a bit torn. Personally, you felt you were now less desirable, and it made you much more reluctant to give in to his high demands.

Rafe respected your boundaries at first, although he never failed to complain about his needs not being met, and even though you were sure of your decisions, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you couldn’t satisfy him sexually every night.

After a full week of you denying him, Rafe was fed up with your ‘no’s’

“Maybe we shouldn’t have sex tonight Rafe,” you nervously stammered. “I’m just not feeling the best about my body right now.”

“So let me make you feel good baby,” Rafe purred in your ear, sensually rubbing your thighs, which you were squeezing together.

You still didn’t feel up to having sex tonight, and you told your boyfriend as much, but it was like he wasn’t listening to you.

His fingers creeped down your thighs, his strong arms slowly pried your legs apart and you flinched when he began rubbing you over the fabric of your shorts.

“Rafe, please.” You begged with him, anxiety building in your chest when he still didn’t stop.

“Please what?” He mocked you, slipping his fingers past your panties and teasing your clit. You squirmed in his grasp, a sick feeling settling in your gut when you realized Rafe was determined to get what he wanted.

When you tried to push his hand away, the other flew out, slapping you across the face, hard enough to shock you without leaving a mark.

“Stop fucking moving!” He shouted at you and you could feel tears welling behind your eyes. “You’re gonna hurt our baby.”

You tried to tell him that you didn’t want to have to fight off your boyfriend of 3 years, that you were only resisting in the first place because he hadn’t respected your ‘no,’ but when Rafe pushed all of himself inside of you with one thrust, your mind went blank and you froze beneath him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, arms shaking slightly as he basked in the feeling of your unprepared cunt squeezing his cock. “I swear to god, you’ve only gotten tighter, baby. Y’feel so good.”

Hot tears were streaming down your cheeks, from both physical discomfort and distress at what your boyfriend was doing to you, the way he was violating you.

Every stroke of his cock was agonizing, and even after your body had adjusted and it began to feel good, the fact that you hadn’t wanted this at all tainted the entire experience. You felt ashamed by the delicious way his cock stretched you out and how your body reacted to his touch.

You had given up fighting back altogether, Rafe’s thinly veiled threat echoing in your ears every time you wanted to push him off of you, although his hands had yours gripped so tight, there was no chance you could have gotten away.

You were scared because Rafe was hurting you, but you were even more terrified at the thought of him hurting your baby.

When your release hit you unexpectedly, you felt utterly betrayed by your body. Your tear choked whimpers filled the room as you came around him, accompanied by the lewd sounds of Rafe plunging his cock into you repeatedly.

Rafe sneered down at you as he snapped his hips against yours, “I thought you didn’t want this, hm? So reluctant until I stuff my cock in you and then you can’t get enough.”

His words made your face burn with shame, and your stomach flipped in disgust at both him and yourself.

When his free hand wrapped around your throat, your eyes widened and you jerked against his touch, but his hold on you was unwavering and unforgiving.

“I’m not gonna let you walk all over me just because you’re pregnant.” Rafe seethed, his pace picking up as he chased his release. “You’ve got my kid growing inside you. Just means you belong to me now even more than you did before.”

His fingers tightened around your throat as he came, choking you so hard your vision started to grow fuzzy and black around the edges. The feeling of his sticky cum coating your walls made you want to throw up.

Rafe pulled out and you realized he was talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything he said, you just nodded numbly, trying to come back to reality as your ears rang and his muffled voice filled the tense air that was permeating the room.

“-maybe now you’ll actually fucking listen to me,” he rambled on, and as you nervously laid in bed beside him, trying to doze off and forget everything that he had just done to you, you realized you were utterly terrified of your boyfriend.

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron noncon #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfic #dark!rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #love plus one

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yellowharrington · 3 months

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wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 5k+ oops

warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.

No one likes using dating apps.

Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.

This was Texas, after all.

Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”

No thanks.

It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.

You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting.

Age range: 25-30

Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.

Age range: 35-45

Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel Miller does not use dating apps.

He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.

“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”

“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”

A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”

Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”

Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.

Paul, 41

Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.

You sighed deeply. Some things never change.

After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.

Joel, 45

Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in.

Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.

He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.

When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.

Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.

Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.

Joel has sent you a message.

Hey, darlin’. How are ya?

You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?

Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?

He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.

Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.

Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂

No good?

Not bad. 6/10.

Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person.

I would love to find out.

You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.

Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.

He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.

There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.

I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.

Tomorrow, 7pm ok?

You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.

Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)

Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number.

It’s Joel. This the right number?

Yup. You found me.

Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)

He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record.

Joel was positively freaking out about this date.

Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.

Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?

His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.

“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”

“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”

He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”

“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.

“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.

“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.

“Nothing.“

“Are you going on a date?”

Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”

“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”

Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all.

Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.

“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.

Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.

It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.

Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.

You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.

We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?

No worries if you did. I respect that.

You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?

You weren’t… completely against that.

Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)

Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.

His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.

You too, cowboy.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.

When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.

“Joel?”

Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.

“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”

“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.

“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.

“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”

“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.

You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you.

“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip.

He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.

“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.

“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.

“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.

“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”

You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”

“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”

You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him.

“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”

It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.

You didn’t notice.

A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.

“I’d love that.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.

“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?

“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.

“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.”

You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.

“What about upstairs?”

Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.

“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar.

You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.

“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold.

You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.

You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.

When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.

“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.

It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.

Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.

“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.

He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him.

His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.

Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.

“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.

His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face.

When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.

“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.

He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.

He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.

“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.

“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.

“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.

“Yes, please, fill me up.”

You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.

The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.

He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.

He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.

“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.

A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.

“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”

You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.

“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”

You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss.

You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.

“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head.

In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

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angelfic · 3 months

Text

— I MISS YOU, I’M SORRY.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: you haven’t seen theo since he supposedly left you to join the other side. now that he’s back and has revealed his true intentions to you, you’re finding it hard to be forgiving.

warnings: swearing, kissing, tiniest bit of angst, very unedited. not much else other than a whole load of waffle… my bad

author’s note: this is a sort of fix-it fic… kinda. yes I am very much stealing the essence (you could say) from marauders fics because I prefer writing those and yes it’s basically this drabble recycled and yes grimmauld place is still the order headquarters well into the war just don’t question my timeline and you’ll be fine ok ty enjoy xoxo

12 Grimmauld place feels unsettling at the best of times, what with the portrait of Walburga Black hurling insults at you every time her curtain slips open and the row of shrunken house-elf heads mounted on the wall. The Order of the Phoenix holding hushed up meetings in the dining room while you and your friends are forced to stay upstairs isn’t anything new or surprising, but the last few days feel different.

Instead of Mrs Weasley telling members of the Order to whisper when you, her kids and Harry and Hermione are in the room, she flaps about ordering them to stop talking altogether. At first you think you’re imagining it when her eyes flick over to you every time, until you bring it up to Ginny and Hermione.

“You’re not imagining it,” Hermione mutters as she shuts the door of the bedroom and casts a quick Muffliato charm before settling cross legged on the bed opposite you and Ginny. “I overheard Mrs Weasley and Tonks in the kitchen this morning, talking about how the Order is arranging transport for some Death Eater spies to come back here.”

You gasp, pretending to be scandalised. “You mean you were evesdropping. That’s not very prefect-y of you.” Ginny snorts at Hermione’s indignant glare and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way her cheeks have slightly reddened. “Sorry, sorry, you know I’m kidding. But what’s that got to do with her looking at me like I’ve gone through a personal tragedy?”

“Your ex-boyfriend did leave you to go join the Death Eaters,” Ginny points out. Hermione gapes at her, but Ginny merely throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, he did! No point beating around the bush!”

A lump rises in your throat at the mention of Theodore. Truth be told, you’ve tried not to think about what happened since the last time you spoke about him. ‘Spoke’ being a strong word since it was mostly crying and sniffling and blowing your nose into tissue after tissue in Ginny’s room at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had made your favourite dinner that night and brought you up a hot chocolate to make you feel better. And it really had- so much so that you refused to speak about him since.

You’re more angry than you are sad now, which makes you nod at Ginny’s words. “You’re right. He’s an arsehole, there’s no point in tip-toeing around it for my sake.” Hermione frowns a little, worry clear as day on her face, but you don’t stop talking. “Besides, we’re on opposite sides and this is a war happening. Not some silly, childish break-up. He chose to be a Death Eater and if we have to fight him, so be it.”

Hermione and Ginny stay quiet for a few seconds and watch you breathe heavily. Thankfully, before either of them can speak, Harry and Ron come bursting into the room.

“They’ve only gone and brought Death Eaters into the bloody building!” Ron shakes his head.

Harry snorts at Ron’s dramatics. “Ex-Death Eaters. Apparently. Still a bit dodgy, in fairness.”

“I thought they were spies,” you say, unable to help your curiosity as you stand up. Ginny and Hermione follow you out of the room as you all peak over the bannister to try and get a glimpse of the action downstairs. Annoyingly, there only seem to be a couple of dishevelled looking Order members milling around.

“Maybe Mrs Weasley and Tonks got it mixed up, or maybe they aren’t privy to what’s going on…” Hermione frowns, deep in thought. “I don’t think anyone but Dumbledore knows what’s actually going on.”

Harry makes an irritated sound. “What’s new?”

“Oh, by the way, Mum sent us up to get you lot for dinner,” Ron says absentmindedly as he tries to get a good look over your shoulder at whatever is happening in the hall downstairs. “Mind you, that was before all the Death Eater business so she’ll probably send us right back up.”

The five of you quickly shuffle downstairs to get to the dining room and while your stomach is growling loud enough to forget any thoughts of Order business, Ron and Harry linger in the hall a little in an attempt to get some answers. You don’t doubt Harry will get some, being the Chosen One and all.

You nudge and elbow your way into the dining room where you’re happily surprised to see a messy-haired Tonks yawning over a bowl of soup. She smiles sleepily when she spots the three of you.

“Hi, girls,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Merlin, I’m exhausted. I keep falling asleep in my soup. Good thing it’s mushroom.” She points to her newly platinum blonde hair that matches the contents of her bowl.

“Why’re you so tired?” Hermione asks as she ladles some soup into bowls for you, Ginny and herself. Her voice is quiet as not to attract attention from Mrs Weasley with her questioning. “Is it to do with tonight’s, uh, Order business?”

“Yep.”

Tonks looks as though she’s about to drift off and Ginny seems to jump at the opportunity to gather information.

“So, what are their names?” She gets straight to the point, glaring at you when you choke on your soup a little, not expecting her to be so blunt.

You and Hermione stop eating and wait with bated breath for Tonks to refuse to answer. She merely yawns again, before talking. “You’ll meet them soon enough.”

“Meet them?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Aren’t they… uh, you know… dangerous?”

“Dumbledore doesn’t seem to think so,” Tonks says, shrugging. You grow a little frustrated at this, since Dumbledore isn’t exactly known for having straightforward plans. While you know his intentions are good, someone he thinks is safe could very well be the opposite. While you ponder this, Tonks’ next words quickly turn your irritation into shock. “The others were understandably quite wary, what with one of them being You-Know-Who’s son and everything, but…”

You feel a ringing in your ear and every word coming from Tonks may as well be directed to her mushroom soup because you aren’t listening anymore. You-Know-Who’s son. You haven’t seen Mattheo since term ended, and even then it was only from a distance. You hadn’t spoken to him since Theo revealed his Dark Mark to you and you’d since avoided his entire friend group like the plague. If Mattheo is in the building, you can only hope and pray that Theodore isn’t with him.

Vaguely aware of someone shaking you by the shoulder, you snap out of your thoughts. “Who else is with Mattheo?” you ask Tonks, your voice sounding rough to your own ears. She blinks through her sleepiness, slightly startled awake by your unwavering eye contact. “Voldemort’s son. Who’s with him? What do they look like?”

You’re so focused on getting an answer from Tonks, and Hermione and Ginny are clearly on the same page as you now since they’re both silent and waiting for a response, that none of you notice Mrs Weasley entering the dining room.

“Tonks, is he blonde or-?”

“Enough!” Mrs Weasley interrupts you hastily, making everyone jump. She sounds panicked, but the look she throws Tonks is stern, like a warning to keep silent. When she turns back to you however, her eyes soften and her voice is gentle, albeit with a hint of annoyance. “I asked Dumbledore not to bring them here while everyone was awake. I didn’t want you all upset again, dear. Look, you can have your dinner upstairs, I’ll bring it up to you!”

You’re grateful for her concern, but it’s a little hard to feel anything other than the pit in your stomach since she’s just confirmed what you were dreading.

Ginny speaks up first, angry on your behalf. “Mum, she deserves to know if that awful git is in the same house as her! I say she ought to go and deck him in the face.”

“Ginny!” Hermione looks at her in exasperation as Mrs Weasley gasps, horrified. “That sort of attitude isn’t going to help anyone.”

“You’re right,” you mumble, getting up from your seat.

Hermione lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“I should go and deck him in the face.”

Hermione’s sputtering falls to deaf ears as you abruptly leave your seat to go out into the hall, the scraping of chairs behind you indicating that everyone is following closely.

Realistically, you have no plans to actually hit Theodore. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever successfully landed a punch before in your life. This doesn’t stop you charging into the hallway and elbowing your way through the huddle of Order members to get to the door they seem to be crowded around.

Kingsley Shacklebolt is the last of them to stumble out of your way, clearly too surprised by your sudden presence to continue guarding the door. You raise a shaky hand to the doorknob and hesitate for a second, suddenly nervous. Kingsley takes this moment to snap out of his surprise and redirects his attentions to what you’re about to do next.

“My dear, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to-”

“Kingsley, do you have any idea why I’m standing here?” you say curtly, cutting him off.

He throws a quick glance at Mrs Weasley, almost as if it’s by reflex. Clearly she’s told more people than Dumbledore to keep word of Theodore far from you. “I, uhm, I may have heard a thing or two…”

“Right, so are you going to stop me entering this room, then?” you ask boldly. Your voice catches slightly on the end of your sentence and Kingsley falters a little.

“Well, really I should-“ he begins, eyes darting to your own slightly teary ones. He sighs. “No, I’m not. Just try not to hex the boy.”

He steps out of your way and you finally barge into room, the door swinging open as you stay lingering near the entrance. The room is just as dingy as the rest of the house, lit up by some candles dotted around the room

You first see Professor McGonagall getting up abruptly from her chair where she was previously sat next to a standing Dumbledore. He merely peers at you over his half moon spectacles and raises his eyebrows.

You suddenly feel a little silly, and rude for barging in like that. “Sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I-“

You stop talking when see movement on the other side of the room from the corner of your eye. Just as Tonks had said, Mattheo Riddle, son of Lord Voldemort is standing right there, flanked by Lorenzo Berkshire… and Theodore. Your mouth goes dry.

As soon as you catch his eye, he smiles broadly at you. You don’t return the gesture, taking his appearance in instead. He’s thinner than the last time you saw him. No visible injuries, but he’s definitely seen better days. His dirty blonde hair is overgrown and unruly as it falls into his eyes which, despite brightening up at your presence, are tired.

You keep your expression as impassive as you can, slightly angry with yourself at the twinge of concern you feel. It was all well and good interrupting whatever meeting was happening in here before you came in, but now that you’re here… you have no idea what to do or say.

Theo’s smile falters when you continue to stand there with clenched fists and a stony face and you’re tempted to just run out of the room when Dumbledore clears his throat.

“Well,” your Headmaster says pleasantly, as though you were all engaged in polite conversation rather than a strained silence. “This reunion was certainly a little earlier than anticipated, but I suppose that can’t be helped. I think we ought to give Mr Nott and Miss Y/L/N a moment alone.”

“Uh, can’t we stay in here too?” Lorenzo asks with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting to the watchful crowd standing right outside the door. You can’t blame him for wary, being an ex-Death Eater in a house full of Order members.

Mattheo nods, throwing an arm around Theodore’s shoulder, ignoring the glare he receives. “Yeah. These two won’t mind a bit of company. Right?” he asks you cheerfully. You blink at him.

“Relax, Berkshire,” Professor McGonagall says, rolling her eyes at the way Lorenzo has inched further into the room. She snaps her fingers to get them moving out the door. “Nobody is going to hex you, you silly boy.”

“Can’t say the same for Theo,” Mattheo mutters as he walks past you and follows everyone out, shutting the door.

You don’t really have any choice but to look at Theo now. He tries a smile again, despite the fact you’re not returning it and he takes a step towards you.

You immediately step back.

Theo flinches ever so slightly, his eyes unable to hide that he’s hurt.

Good, you think viciously.

Sighing, he looks at you imploringly like he wants to say something, but can’t find the words. “You’re angry with me,” he settles on muttering, his voice quiet in the dark room.

You let out a derisive laugh. “Angry? You worked that out, huh? Death-Eater’s didn’t completely addle your brain then, did they?”

“Darling, please let me explain,” Theo pleads, taking another few steps towards you.

Rather than stepping back, you whip out your wand and point it right at him. He doesn’t back away, merely raising his hands in surrender and arching an eyebrow as if to ask you if you’re serious. This angers you further.

“Do not call me darling,” you hiss, raising your wand further. Theo doesn’t react, as though he knows you’d never actually use magic to hurt him. Your hand trembles with the weight of the realisation that no, you wouldn’t hurt him. That you’ve actually been more worried that becoming a Death Eater would get him hurt than him betraying you. He left you with nothing but a cold goodbye and you still can’t help caring.

Feeling stupid, and a little bit pathetic, you drop your hand to your side and allow him to continue standing before you as he lowers his hands. You grit your teeth and cross your arms. “Explain.”

Theo lets out a relieved breath. “I never wanted to leave you,” he says, and you immediately roll your eyes. “I- no, look at me. I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t explain the fact that you did,” you deadpan, turning away to leave. Theo quickly reaches out to grasp both of your arms and gently turns you towards him.

You stiffen at the first physical contact you’ve had with him in months, your body betraying you and erupting goosebumps all over your arms in spite of your anger.

“I lied about it to protect you,” he whispers, peering at you through the strands of hair that are stubbornly falling into his eyes from weeks of neglect. Theo looks slightly pained and you recognise his expression to mean that he’s desperately trying to phrase his next words correctly. His eyes flick over to your right arm. No. To his left wrist, where you know his Dark Mark to be. “You can ask Dumbledore if you don’t believe me… Me and the others only ever took the Mark so we’d be able to spy on The D- on him.”

The relief hits you like a freight train and lightens your heavy chest all in one go. You hadn’t just felt betrayed by your boyfriend leaving you all those months ago. You had felt dread at the possibility of him joining a Pureblood supremacist’s cult. Dread at the idea that the views he’d shared with you were all lies and that he was a completely difference person to the one you loved.

Despite the relief, the sting of the breakup still lingers with you.

“That meant you had to be a prick when you left me?” you ask, voice shaking against your will. His eyes soften.

“Yes,” he says weakly. “How else could I have left you without worrying that… that he could use you against me if he found me out? I never wanted to take the Mark and it killed me when I saw the look on your face.”

Your scowl, trying your best to distract Theodore from the fact that your vision has gone blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes. By the look on his face, you doubt you’re doing a very good job. “Do you really think I would have cared about a fucking tattoo, if you had just told me the truth?”

“No, I know,” Theo sighs, absentmindedly drawing closer to you. “I’ll explain anything you want, but the work we did was too close to The Dark Lord to risk telling anyone about at the time. Dumbledore made me, Mattheo and Enzo swear not to say anything. It was safer that way.”

“Did you make an Unbreakable Vow?” you whisper, stiller than ever.

Theo furrows his brows. “No, but-”

You pull away from him abruptly and back away to the door, ignoring the way his hands reach out in an attempt to hold your arms again. “Then I hope the information you got for Dumbledore was worth it.”

You don’t look back at him, nor do you check to see if anyone is in the hallway as you run upstairs and into your room, slamming the door shut as you lean against it, breathing heavily. You stay there for a while, reeling from your anger and irritation at the fact you still have to stay in this bloody house while Theodore’s in it.

The next few days are confusing to say the least. Theo doesn’t seem to have any plans to avoid you, but he respects your space.

Sort of.

He isn’t badgering you every second of the day, but somehow whichever room you’re in, he finds himself in as well. Whenever you try and reach for something, even if it’s not on a particularly high shelf, or particularly far away, Theo beats you to it, ever the gentleman.

It’s starting to unnerve you a little.

One particular afternoon, you walk into the kitchen hoping to make a cup of tea in peace. At the table sits Theo, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. When he spots you, he sits up straighter and you dawdle stupidly at the entrance.

Before you can snap out of it and remember what you came in here for, Theo gets up and walks over to the mugs. “Tea?” he asks politely, and, you think, a little hopefully.

“Will you make it and let me drink it alone?” you ask bluntly.

“I’ll make it and sit with you in silence,” he offers, undeterred despite your coldness.

Narrowing your eyes, you glance at the clock and sigh. It’s too early in the morning to put off having your tea, so you allow it. “Fine. Milk and-”

“Two sugars,” he cuts you off with an annoyingly smug smile. “I remember.”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, but stay silent as he turns his attentions to the kettle. Theo’s face quickly falls when he realises he has no idea how to use it. Your impassive expression almost cracks and you have to bite back a laugh as he examines the thing. Walking over to the counter, you drag the kettle so that it’s closer to you. And so you don’t have to be as close to Theo, but that’s besides the point.

“It’s already filled with water, you just need to flip the switch so it starts boiling,” you explain, pointing to the little part. Theo places his cigarette in between his lips as he furrows his brows, clearly skeptical of the muggle contraption. You suppose you can’t blame him since you, Hermione and Harry have had to explain the kettle to countless members of the Order since it was introduced to the house a few months ago.

You still don’t know where the plug socket is and considering the fact that Grimmauld Place has never inhabited muggles, you aren’t going to bother asking.

When Theo flicks the switch and sees the light turn red, a satisfied smile graces his lips where the cigarette still hangs. You look away from his mouth very quickly and go to sit down. Unable to leave without making things awkward, you decide the only thing to do is watch Theo make two cups of tea. He doesn’t need instruction since he knows exactly how you like it, but something catches in your throat when he uses a green mug. Your favourite colour.

The only sound in the kitchen is the clink of the spoon swirling in the cups and Theo soon brings both cups over with an incredibly concentrated frown to make sure there’s no spillages as he sets one down on the table. The other he hands to you himself and you have to clench your jaw when you grab it, your own hands brushing against his, which he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to move away.

“Thanks,” you mutter, trying to use the burning heat of the mug against your skin to distract from the fact that you have tingles.

“S’alright,” he replies, a barely restrained grin on his face. You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of the mug as you sip your tea.

Damn, you think to yourself. Why is it always so good when he makes it?

The two of you settle into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you drink your tea and he smokes. The puffs are very carefully directed away from you, but you can’t help wrinkling your nose out of habit. Back when you were still together, you were always firm about him cutting down and now you have to restrain yourself from reaching over and plucking the cigarette out of his lips to throw it away like you used to do with ease. He never objected.

Theo notices your looks all the same, and it’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts. He raises a brow, almost daring you to remove the cigarette yourself. “You want me to stop?”

“I don’t care,” you say in an attempt to sound nonchalant. Shrugging, you try your hardest not to react to his obvious bait, but it’s like a bloody reflex. “It’s your lungs on the line, not mine. If you want to lose five years off your life, then by all means, go ahead. I really couldn’t care-”

“As you wish,” he interrupts you, grinning like an idiot again. The next thing you know, he’s putting out the cigarette, and sipping his tea instead. He doesn’t even like tea.

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” you grumble, slightly pleased nonetheless.

He merely hums, taking a gulp of his tea. You accidentally let out a snort of laughter when he grimaces at the taste. Theo’s lips quirk up in amusement when you laugh, unrestrained and it’s only when you catch him staring at you that you quickly stop.

The smug expression on his face quickly returns as though he knows you’re finding it hard to be fully angry at him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snap, drawing your knees up on your chair towards your chin. “You look stupid. And your hair is too long.”

Theo huffs out a surprised laugh. “My hair is too long?” he asks incredulously, reaching up to tug a piece down so it reaches the bottom of his nose. “Hm, you’re right. You cut it pretty good that one time. Would you do it again for me?”

“Mrs Weasley is better at it,” you say, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’m sure she’d be delighted if you just ask.”

“The way she looks at me, I’d be lucky to get away with my head still attached to my body,” he drawls, wholly unimpressed by your suggestion. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m not done being angry with you yet,” you reply simply, draining the contents of your mug. “Trust me when I say you don’t want me anywhere near your head with a pair of scissors either.”

Theo nods slowly, a smile gracing his lips— strange, since you just threatened physical violence. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re not going to be angry with me forever.”

“I- Well, I didn’t mean-” you stutter pointlessly, cutting yourself off with a sigh. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early for this, leave me alone.”

“That was the first cigarette I’ve had since before I left,” Theo says quietly, searching your face for a reaction, almost nervously.

You aren’t quite sure how to respond to this random piece of information and you find yourself floundering. “Uhm. Okay, good. That’s… Yeah, that’s great for you and your lungs, well done. Saves money too. They were actually, uh, saying on the news the other day that the average amount people spend on-”

“Darling, as much as I appreciate it, that’s not what I’m getting at,” he interrupts, the ghost of a smirk at his lips. You scowl at him for letting you go on for so long and motion for him to get to the bloody point. “Every time I brought a cigarette to my lips, I remembered you weren’t going to be there to nag me about it. It just feels pointless now.”

You stare at him. “Nice to know that my nagging was what you remembered me by.”

“That’s not-” Theo cuts himself off with a laugh that sounds halfway to a groan. “Merlin, you’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can get a word out, Harry walks in which you find odd considering it’s so early in the morning and him and Ron are usually only out of bed when Mrs Weasley yells them down for breakfast.

“Morning,” he says through a yawn. The greeting is directed at you, but he sends an expectant look at Theo right after. “Time to leave, Nott.

“Leave for where?” you ask before you can help yourself. You realise with a start that Harry and Theo are dressed and ready while you’re still in your pyjamas. “Where do you have to go?”

“Horcrux hunting,” Harry says flippantly, as though he’s just announced he’s going fishing. Hermione had filled you in on the information Theo and the others had ascertained from their time with Voldemort, but you didn’t even consider them or Harry would actually be going with the Order to find them. “Nott and the others know more than we do, so they’re coming with.”

You level a look at Theo, who seems to be pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. “Thanks for sharing that tiny tidbit of information, by the way,” you mutter sourly.

He winces, getting up slowly from his chair. “It, uh, didn’t seem that important. It’s only a quick little task anyway. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m not stupid,” you scoff, standing up so you can attempt to look a little more dignified as you confront Theo. Harry, on the other hand, looks as though he regrets his decision to enter the kitchen in the first place. Despite this, you hadn’t missed the way he furrowed his brows when Theo spoke. “Even if Harry wasn’t looking at you like you were speaking gibberish, I would know that you’re lying. It’s a Horcrux you’re leaving to get. Not the weekly food shop.”

Harry snickers at this, though quickly turns it into a cough when Theo sends him a withering glare. Sighing, you decide to ignore him for the moment and turn to Harry instead

“Be safe,” you say, gentler than before. “And don’t be a hero, just try and get out of there safely.”

“Pfft,” Harry waves you off, a sarcastic tone entering his voice. “When have you known me to do that?”

You roll your eyes, cracking a smile as he walks away, supposedly to find the rest of the group.

“Don’t I get a ‘be safe’ as well?” Theo tries for a casual, joking voice. A hint of irritation seeps through it though. You shift on your feet a little awkwardly, slightly flustered at his obvious jealousy.

“Uhm, okay. Bye,” you say stiffly, fiddling with the loose string of your cardigan sleeve so you have something to do with your hands other than ball them up at your sides. Theo seems to be satisfied with the curt response, or more likely your lack of insults, and he nods, turning away to leave. As you watch him walk away, a familiar sense of anxiety bubbles up in your stomach and you blurt out the only thing you can think of. “Don’t die!”

He slowly turns around, very clearly holding back a grin. You think you might thump the boy. “Will you forgive me if I come back alive?”

“Well,” you huff, crossing your arms. As petty as it may be, you’ve always found it hard to loosen a grudge. You settle for a shrug instead. “Come back alive first and then I’ll see.”

Theo takes two steps forward and closes the short distance that was previously allowing you to keep a cool- well, cool-ish, head. He keeps both arms behind his back, however, as he dips his head down slightly.

“My sweet, stubborn girl,” Theo says in a low voice. His proximity flounders you for a moment and you don’t even protest that no, you’re not his anything. The way your breathing turns shallow would be contradicting that greatly though. “I’ll try my best. And if I don’t come back alive, I promise you can yell at my ghost.”

You scowl, and this time you actually do thump him on the arm. “You’re not funny, you idiot. Now, go. I can already hear Mattheo irritating the patience out of Harry.”

Theo gives you a little two-fingered salute and a wink before he walks away again, leaving you alone with a funny feeling in settling in your stomach.

You aren’t the only one who sits anxiously in the living room waiting for the group to return with the infamous Horcrux. Ron has eaten his way through three bowls of cereal and rapidly makes a start on his fourth while Hermione tries to distract herself with reading a book that she hasn’t noticed is upside down.

After another hour goes by, Ginny, who was previously pacing up and down the stairs, sighs and turns Hermione’s book the right way up which startles her, causing her to give up altogether.

You sit cross-legged and completely still, other than switching your legs every time one of them goes numb. Eventually, you get so sick of watching Mrs Weasley mop over the same spot on the floor for the fifth time that you jump up from your seat, causing her to start and knock over the bucket of dirty mop water all over the floor.

“Oh, dear,” she mutters, waving her wand and siphoning all the water up in a second.

“Sorry, Mrs Weasley,” you say, wincing. “I’m just a little stressed since it’s been ages already-”

You get cut off by Hermione gasping at the sound of the front door opening along with voices. She grips your arm tightly. “They’re back!”

Barely registering the pain of her nails digging into the skin of your arm, you waste no time in running into the hall with the others to greet everyone at the door. You can’t help the relieved smile on your face when you do a quick head count and find everyone present.

As you get closer, you see how exhausted they look. Not to mention the fact they’re dripping water all over the rug. Harry stands at the front of the group looking like he might collapse if he stands any longer and Hermione and Ron pick up on this as they rush over to help him inside.

As they stumble him across the hall, you stop craning your neck as Theo comes into view. The relief you previously felt leaves you faster than your body knows how to deal with and you have to force yourself to breathe when you take in the state of him.

At first glance he doesn’t look particularly worse than the rest. They all have a vaguely haunted look in their eyes along with a sickly pallor like they haven’t seen the sun in days.

But the way Mattheo and Lorenzo are holding him up brings attention to the fact that all of his weight is being put on one leg. The other, to your horror, has a deep, bloody gash trailing down his thigh and onto his calf. The sight of blood steadily dripping onto the floor below has you frozen, almost mesmerised in a terrible way, and it’s not until Dumbledore speaks that you snap out of it and to attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, if you could please fetch Madam Pomfrey for me,” Dumbledore asks, his voice a lot calmer than you feel. You nod, turning away quickly before Theo can see the panic which is probably clear as day on your face.

It takes a scary second to find Madam Pomfrey, but as soon as you do, she gets down to business preparing her supplies in the living room which is as far as Theo seems to be able to make it.

He lays on the sofa, breathing shallowly as Madam Pomfrey crouches down beside him to begin assessing the wound. Peering at it closely, she looks up at Dumbledore sharply. “Inferi?”

“I’m afraid so,” he replies solemnly and you let out a choked sort of whimper.

“Merlin,” Ron whispers, looking like he might be sick. Whether that’s because Madam Pomfrey is cleaning Theo’s leg, or because of the mention of Inferi, you aren’t sure. “What the hell were you guys doing?”

“All will be explained, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore reassures him, looking over his spectacles. “However, I must insist that for now we allow dear Madam Pomfrey to tend to Mr Nott’s injuries.”

“Will you be able to heal him?” Mattheo asks, swallowing hard. The concern in his voice for his best friend has your heart clenching and you look to Madam Pomfrey just as earnestly for an answer.

“Yes, I dare say I can,” Madam Pomfrey says grimly, but she pulls out a couple little bottle of potions from her bag with a frown. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be extremely painful, unfortunately.”

“Can’t imagine what pain feels like,” Theo mumbles, shifting his position on the sofa slightly and wincing. His face goes whiter than before and he shuts his eyes tightly from the pain, but he still manages to talk, however hard it may be. “Not like I’ve just had Inferi mistaking my leg for their lunch.”

“No talking and no moving,” Madam Pomfrey instructs Theo, sending him a stern glare.

“Sorry-”

“Shhh!” you hiss, giving him a glare of your own. Theo’s eyes flutter open slightly and his lips quirk up when he sees you leaning over him as close as you can get without Madam Pomfrey shooing you away.

His smile quickly drops when Madam Pomfrey pours some purple liquid into the open wound, causing it to hiss and smoke. The groan that leaves Theo has you holding your breath and you fight the urge to shut your eyes and turn away.

“Merlin, I can’t watch,” Lorenzo gags, his skin turning even sicklier than before. Turning away, he holds onto Mattheo’s shoulder to steady himself, the latter looking more interested than anything as he peers at Theo’s sizzling cut. Lorenzo shakes his head and holds a hand over his mouth every time he can hear Madam Pomfrey pouring more of the potion. “Oh, God, that’s disgusting.”

“Mr Berkshire, if you are unable to watch, then don’t,” Madam Pomfrey snaps, screwing the bottle shut and grabbing another one. She waves her hand in an impatient shooing motion. “In fact, everyone out. Now! This isn’t a Quidditch match, for heaven’s sake!”

Dumbledore starts filing everyone out and you consider staying for a minute but Madam Pomfrey’s raised eyebrows have you hurtling out of the room with everyone else. Theo starts to say something, but a drop of something else makes him grit his teeth and the green smoke produced by the potion follows you out the door.

The next hour or so is filled with Harry, Mattheo and Lorenzo being fussed over by Mrs Weasley, who insists on them going up to bed once they’ve cleaned up and changed into dry clothing. Unfortunately for the rest of you, this means you won’t be getting an update any time soon. Dumbledore is, as always these days, nowhere to be seen.

“I wonder if they found the Horcrux,” you say under your breath to Hermione as she anxiously taps her foot against the kitchen floor.

“They did,” she says grimly, glancing impatiently at the clock. She has her thinking face on, brows furrowed and gaze distant. “It was in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Harry quickly told me before Mrs Weasley sent them off. I wonder when they’ll wake up though… They didn’t look too happy, and I have a feeling it wasn’t all to do with Nott.”

You nod slowly, a weight lifting off your chest despite the last part. If, after all this, they hadn’t retrieved the Horcrux, you think you’d probably have gone to the bloody cave yourself.

“Theodore’s resting now, anyway,” Hermione adds, giving you a quick glance as though she’s waiting for a reaction. You keep your face as impassive as you can, attempting a casual nod. “Madam Pomfrey says he’s healing nicely and his leg will be fine. It’ll just be a bit sore for a few days. I’m sure he’s awake if you want to go see him.”

“I might,” you mumble, shrugging. You try to sound flippant, but the urge to clamber out of your seat probably shows because Hermione rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh, why don’t you just put him out of his misery?” she asks, her words coming out at the speed of light, like she’s been wanting to say it for a while. You blink at her in shock. Sighing, she leans over the table and her tone becomes gentle. “I know he lied to you, and you should be angry with him for that! But… well, it’s been a really awkward few days with him asking us where you are every second of the day. And, technically, he was never really a Death Eater, he was helping our side!”

Hermione takes a deep breath and exhales, slumping back in her seat as she waits for your reaction. You try not to laugh. “How long have you been holding that one in?”

“Since the second he turned up here,” she says, sagely. “Now, don’t change the subject! Go and see him. Go on, off you go!”

You stand up, swiftly dodging Hermione’s flapping hands to try and rush you out the door. “Okay, I’m going. It’s probably about time anyway,” you grumble, a fond smile creeping up on you nonetheless.

Looking satisfied, Hermione stops trying to usher you out and you make your way over to the living room again. The door is open and you sigh with relief when you notice the room is empty, bar Theo who’s in the same position as he was the last time you saw him. His eyes are shut and you wonder if he’s sleeping until you step on a creaky floorboard and he cracks one eye open.

“Hey,” you say quietly, tip-toeing into the room to perch on the coffee table adjacent to the sofa. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Theo replies, moving to sit up as much as he can. You suspect he’d have the same answer even if he was asleep. He looks a lot more awake than he did before and you feel your chest squeeze tightly when you realise how glad you are. Theo seems to notice this and he reaches over to hold one of your hands, detaching it from the way you grasp them both together. “I promised you I’d come back alive, didn’t I?”

You snort, shaking your head at his ability to be so chipper. “Alive and dripping blood all over the carpet. You know if Kreacher finds out it was you, he’ll murder you in your sleep, right?”

“It doesn’t count if I die now,” Theo protests, frowning as if you’re talking about a serious possibility and not joking. “Deal was you’d forgive me if I came back alive after finding the Horcrux, remember?”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think deeply about it as he rubs circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. It causes you to momentarily lose your focus. “What I remember saying is that I would think about it.”

Theo shakes his head, a look of mock concern overtaking his features. “I think the stress of my injury has gotten to your memory… What I remember is you vowing to forgive me the moment I stepped foot in this place.”

“I think Madam Pomfrey’s painkillers are getting to you,” you say drily, moving to kneel on the floor next to him.

“She didn’t use any,” Theo grumbles, looking mournfully at the bandages on his leg. “She’s really sadistic, I’m telling you.”

You laugh, ducking your head so you aren’t flustered by the way Theo’s eyes focus on your smile with a grin of his own.

“You know what she told me would help with the pain?” Theo asks quietly, his enviously long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones as he looks down at you, almost nervously.

“Let me guess,” you say, sitting up so the distance between your faces is much shorter now. “A kiss to make it all better?”

“Healer’s orders,” he says, shrugging. His breathing quickens when you don’t move away and he swallows hard, eyes dropping lower to your mouth when you bite your lip to stop from cracking a smile. “I’m not saying you have to, but if you’re okay with going directly against her orders, then-”

You cut him off by pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and he inhales sharply, unmoving for a split second before parting his lips and deepening the kiss. Theo’s hands move to your waist where he uses his remaining strength to hoist you up onto the sofa next him, one of your legs thrown over his waist as you half-straddle him.

You gasp into his mouth when he nips at your bottom lip and the sound he makes in the back of his throat has your cheeks warming up and you kiss him harder. The fact it’s been so long since you’ve even been near him has you both kissing for what feels like hours and you only pull away when you need to breathe and you’re worried you’re leaning on Theo’s leg.

Pulling away, you scan Theo’s face and pause for a second to take in his beautiful features. His eyes are blown wide like he can’t believe he’s here with you, kissing you. A warm feeling starting in your stomach spreads all the way down to the tips of your fingers as he looks at you.

“Any other very important requests from the Healer?” you ask breathlessly, feeling a shiver run down your spine where Theo lightly skims his fingers. A dangerous smile overtakes his face and his lips, pink and swollen from kissing you, curve up, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“I think she mentioned something about a sponge bath?”

You whack his arm and he yelps, grabbing your wrist to stop you assaulting him further. “Hey, I’m an injured patient!”

“Your leg is injured, not your arm.”

“It is now,” he says, pouting as he rubs dramatically at his bicep where you lightly thumped him. He grumbles when you roll your eyes and press another kiss to his lips to get him to stop pouting. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Hm,” you hum, settling your face in his chest and sighing at the warmth of his arms, feeling him smile against your forehead where he kisses you.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott smut #theodore nott

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dolcejwnie · 2 months

Text

INK MY HEART. Y. JUNGWON

synopsis: a lost bet leads you to flirt with your local tattoo artist yang jungwon.

warning: none

genre: tattoo artist! jungwon x reader, fluffy, awkward reader, kinda flirty jungwon

remember to reblog and like for more content!

the bet was lost in a haze of laughter and drinks, leaving you standing awkwardly outside a tattoo shop, heart racing with nerves. you had to flirt with the tattoo artist—a stranger whose name you didn't even know.

taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door, the bell chiming softly above your head. the shop was dimly lit, filled with the buzz of tattoo machines and the scent of ink.

your eyes fell on him immediately—a tall, lean figure with an array of tattoos peeking out from beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Jungwon, the tattoo artist – you read on the label on his shirt.

"hi there," you managed to squeak out, feeling your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. the words felt like a clumsy stumble out of your mouth, tripping over nerves and uncertainty. as they hung in the air, you couldn't help but cringe inwardly at how awkward you must sound.

in that moment, a flurry of thoughts raced through your mind like a whirlwind. should you have said something different? was "hi there" too casual, too hesitant? would Jungwon think you were a complete fool for stumbling over such a simple greeting?

your heart pounded erratically in your chest, the sound of blood rushing in your ears drowning out all other noise. you cursed yourself for not being more composed, more charming—like the confident flirt you had imagined yourself to be in this scenario.

but as you stole a glance at Jungwon, you found yourself momentarily frozen by the intensity of his gaze. his eyes, dark and enigmatic, seemed to hold a silent promise of understanding, as if he could sense the whirlwind of nerves and emotions raging within you.

heat crept up your neck, suffusing your cheeks with a deep crimson blush. you wished you could disappear into the floor, escape the suffocating embarrassment that seemed to cling to you like a second skin.

"smooth," you chided yourself inwardly, mentally kicking yourself for your lack of grace. you had imagined this flirtatious encounter a thousand times in your head, rehearsing witty lines and charming smiles. and yet, when faced with the reality of the moment, all those practiced words seemed to evaporate into thin air.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. He seemed to sense your nerves, but instead of easing them, he leaned against the counter, looking amused.

"what can I do for you?" he asked, his voice smooth and enticing.

you fumbled for words, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for being there. "uh, i, um... i heard you're the best," you blurted out, mentally cringing at your lack of subtlety.

Jungwon chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "flattery won't get you everywhere," he replied, gesturing for you to take a seat.

panic set in as you realized you hadn't even thought about what tattoo you wanted. you glanced around the shop, your eyes landing on a display of intricate silk designs.

"I-I want a silk tattoo," you blurted out, feeling your palms grow sweaty.

Jungwon arched an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. " silk tattoo, huh? any particular design in mind?"

your mind went blank, the pressure mounting as Jungwon patiently waited for an answer. and then, without thinking, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"a small book," you said, gesturing to your ankle. "right there."

Jungwon's lips twitched with amusement as he prepared his equipment. "a book, it is," he said, his voice teasing.

the tattoo chair felt more like a throne of nerves as you settled into it, Jungwon's skilled hands preparing to ink your skin. your heart raced wildly in your chest, and you cursed your luck for getting yourself into this situation.

as Jungwon began to sketch the outline of the small book on your ankle, you found yourself struggling to come up with anything coherent to say.

the tattoo machine buzzed softly in the background, its rhythmic hum filling the air. each buzz sent a jolt of nerves through you, the sound echoing in your ears like a relentless drumbeat. anxiety twisted in the pit of your stomach, making it hard to focus on anything else. as Jungwon worked his magic, the sound of the ink pen seemed to grow louder, each stroke of the needle sending shivers down your spine. you couldn't help but wonder if Jake would ever believe the wild tale that was unfolding in the tattoo shop that night.

"uh, so, do you, uh, get a lot of people asking for silk tattoos?" you blurted out, mentally cringing at the awkwardness of your question.

Jungwon glanced up from his work, a small smile playing on his lips. "not as many as you'd think," he replied, his voice smooth and reassuring. "but I have to say, you're the first to ask for a book."

you flushed hot with embarrassment, feeling like a fool for blurting out such a random request. "I, um, I like books," you muttered, your cheeks burning.

Jungwon chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "nothing wrong with that," he replied, his tone light and teasing.

"o-ow!" you exclaimed suddenly, more out of nerves than actual pain.

Jungwon paused, looking up at you with concern. "are you okay? Did that hurt?"

you shook your head quickly, feeling foolish for overreacting. "n-no, I'm fine. just... nervous, i guess."

Jungwon's touch was like a soothing balm on your frayed nerves, the warmth of his hand seeping through your skin and calming the storm of anxiety within you. as he squeezed your leg reassuringly, you felt a rush of comfort wash over you, his gentle gesture a silent promise of support.

"you're doing great," his voice, soft and encouraging, whispered in your ear, barely audible over the hum of the tattoo machine. the tension in your muscles eased at his words, and you found yourself relaxing into the chair, surrendering to the moment.

a nervous smile tugged at your lips as you met Jungwon's gaze, finding warmth and understanding in his eyes. "th-thanks," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. heat rushed to your cheeks, coloring them a rosy hue that you were sure Jungwon could see.

his eyes crinkled at the corners as he returned your smile, a silent reassurance that filled you with a sense of ease. in that moment, with Jungwon's hand still resting gently on your leg, you felt a flutter of something unfamiliar yet exhilarating stirring within you.

it was a mixture of nervous anticipation and a budding attraction, the kind that made your heart race and your stomach flutter with butterflies. you couldn't deny the warmth spreading through you at Jungwon's touch, the way his presence seemed to envelop you in a cocoon of safety and comfort.

as the tattooing continued, each stroke of the needle sending a jolt of sensation through your skin, you found yourself stealing glances at Jungwon whenever you dared. his focused expression, the way his eyes crinkled in concentration, the faint hint of a smile playing on his lips—it all added to the growing flutter in your chest.

and when Jungwon's hand brushed against yours as he adjusted his position, a jolt of electricity shot through you, leaving your skin tingling in its wake. it was a fleeting touch, innocent yet charged with unspoken possibilities, leaving you craving more.

lost in a whirlwind of emotions, you found yourself drawn to Jungwon in ways you couldn't quite explain. his presence was a comforting anchor in the midst of your swirling thoughts and emotions, grounding you in the here and now.

but as the tattooing neared its end, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of Jungwon's touch leaving your skin. the warmth of his hand, the gentle reassurance in his voice—they had become a lifeline in this whirlwind of nerves and anticipation.

and when the final stroke of the needle marked the completion of the tattoo, you couldn't suppress the sigh of both relief and regret that escaped your lips. Jungwon's hand lingered for a moment longer, the warmth of his touch searing into your skin, before he withdrew with a gentle smile.

as you sat there, heart still racing and cheeks flushed, you couldn't help but feel a sense of loss at the absence of Jungwon's touch.

"okay, all done," Jungwon announced finally, wiping away the excess ink. "take a look."

you leaned forward eagerly, your heart pounding in your chest. snd there it was—the small book tattooed beautifully on your ankle, its pages fluttering delicately in the imaginary breeze.

"it's perfect," you breathed, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside you.

Jungwon grinned, a proud glint in his eyes. "glad you think so," he replied, his voice soft.

as you admired the tattoo, a comfortable silence settled over the room. you couldn't help but steal glances at Jungwon, admiring the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light, the way his tattooed arms flexed with every movement.

"um, so, what now?" you asked, suddenly realizing that you didn't quite know what to do next.

Jungwon chuckled, a warm sound that made your heart flutter. "well, first you'll need to sign a few forms," he said, gesturing to the paperwork on the table. "and then... well, that's up to you."

you nodded, trying to focus on the paperwork as your mind raced with possibilities. but when you glanced up, you noticed something strange on the receipt Jungwon handed you.

"wait a minute," you said, furrowing your brow in confusion. "what's this?"

Jungwon leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "that," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "is my number."

your eyes widened in surprise, a surge of excitement coursing through you. "y-your number?"

Jungwon winked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "in case you ever need a touch-up," he replied, his voice teasing.

before you could respond, Jungwon was already moving on to his next client, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a piece of paper burning a hole in your pocket.

as you stepped out into the bustling city, the tattoo on your ankle felt like a secret, a reminder of the unexpected and thrilling encounter with Jungwon. and as you pulled out the piece of paper with his number, a smile tugged at your lips.

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always-andromeda · 2 months

Text

𝐝𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Ellie Williams x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 ��𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1232

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ You and Ellie enjoy an all-too-rare "quiet" moment with each other.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ soooo...this is my first time writing something for Ellie...please be gentle lmao. I decided to be a little easy on myself and start off with something light with absolutely no plot. Just pure, fluffy porn. That being said, I want to add that from this point onwards, anything I write based in the TLOU universe, I will be including links on what we can do to aid Palestine. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ smut (minors, do not interact, please and thank you), reader has no physical description aside from being afab and able-bodied, fingering (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), pet names (babe, baby), slight overstimulation, general softness, nothing else I can think of!

Early mornings suit you, Ellie decides. Especially when it's all cold and quiet and blue light as a thin layer of frost covers the outside of the window by her bed. You're both thankful that it obscures the view of any eyes that may have been peeking into Ellie's garage.

They would've seen you sprawled out on her mattress and Ellie slotted firmly between your legs, paying all sorts of attention to your thighs. And thank fucking god, you're the only one who can hear the filthy words that fall from that wonderful mouth of hers.

"You're so fucking soft, babe." Then she chuckles, "And so easy to work up."

Your thighs shiver with anticipation and you're far beyond the point of feeling any kind of shame about it. There's only urgency filling your chest as you hope that Ellie's teasing turns into something. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd spent so long on you that Jesse had to come and "wake her" for patrol.

Now that had been a special kind of torture: Ellie hoisting herself up off of you and yelling to Jesse that she'd be right out as she pulled on her hoodie and gathered her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. She grabbed her backpack, kissed you on the forehead, and muttered, "See you tonight," with a cocky grin. Then she fucking left.

And you'd have to shake away whatever mounting pressure she'd built up inside of you and uncomfortably shuffle your way home in yesterday's clothes all while trying to avoid the watching eyes of Jackson's population. It felt like every ounce of deprivation was written on your face in those moments and you hated it.

So you thread a hand through her hair, gently urging her towards your cunt.

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm gettin' there," she teases and removes your hand.

“Now, please,” you whine.

But it’s no use. With a little laugh under her breath, she keeps peppering kisses along your bikini line. You know she relishes in it, listening to you gasp as she gets closer and closer to where you need her only to pull back moments before her lips could connect with your center.

She must be feeling nice this morning; she hasn’t admonished you for squirming or whining. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t have patrol today. Or maybe it’s because you spent hours after dinner the night prior relieving her stress as well. Or maybe it’s just the simple fact that quiet moments like these are rare. All you know is that you can handle it; you can handle her.

You ball up the sheets in your fists and adjust your hips ever so slightly, settling in for whatever Ellie has planned for you. She uses a finger to pull the thin cotton crotch of your underwear to the side and groans to herself.

She laughs, “I don’t even have to try and you’re soaked.”

You lift yourself up on your elbows to look down at her. “Imagine what would happen if you did try,” you quip.

“Tough talk for a girl in your position,” she says. Before you can give her another snarky reply, she licks a long stripe up the center of you. The sudden warmth is welcome but it still startles you.

Ellie adds with a scoff, “Besides, I don’t need to imagine. I am well aware of what happens when I try.” With that, she eases a finger in you.

In and out, she patiently worked you open until asking, “Want another, babe?”

You give a breathy yes. A beat passes where you wait for her to request a please alongside it. But it never comes. She must be feeling really nice.

With a whine, you feel her slip that second finger in. She’s methodic, curling her lithe fingers with each pump and carefully itching an ache inside of you that begs to be scratched. Bit by bit, she only feeds the flame; only makes it climb higher and higher up your belly until it seems to burn at the back of your throat. That wet squelch between your legs intensifies as she fucks you faster. You let out a soft moan and Ellie curses under her breath.

“That’s right, baby. You’ve got it.”

You can’t quite see her expression but you can tell she’s got that smug smirk creeping across her face. It’s the face she makes when she can tell just how well she’s playing you.

Right then she decides to go for the kill. Her tongue flicks over your swollen clit in time with her scissored fingers and before too long, you’re chasing it. Rutting against her mouth, you follow that all consuming fire that burns away each and every one of your better senses. It craves nothing more than pleasure and the praise of the girl you love more than life itself.

Strangely, you don’t mind it. In another world, you could afford to be so needy and so selfish whenever you wanted. Perhaps that’s why you’re so drawn to the feeling now; to the fleetingness of it. It’s lightning in a bottle. And with the heat mounting, you feel ready to burst.

A string of wanton curses falls from your lips. Bones scorched with pleasure, you're quickly approaching the point where you’ll be nothing more than ash.

Ellie groans desperately against your cunt, “C’mon, give it to me. You’re almost there.”

That’s all you need to fall over the edge. You shatter as soon as your climax makes contact. You’re a mess of limbs. Legs wrapping around the woman attached to your cunt. Heels digging into her back, still chasing that endless more until it damn near hurts. Chest heaving as you start to realize that it never will be enough. But somehow, that’s alright. If it was enough, there’d be nothing left for her to give; nothing left to yearn. And you’d rather spend the rest of your life wanting her than wandering in oblivion.

Finally, the pleasure gets to be too much. You’re all but a pile of smoldering cinders, terrifyingly close to blowing away in the wind. You cry out and tap the side of Ellie temple, signaling the end of the

She quickly obliges and switches to pressing gentle kisses to your mound between whispered praises. Hands gripping your thighs, her thumbs swirl soothing circles to your trembling flesh. Her kisses work their way up your belly, between your breasts, across your collar, up to your lips.

“You alright?” she asks softly.

Your head still spins a bit but you manage a nod and a low hum which only makes her chuckle.

A thin layer of sweat on her forehead sheens in the light. The smattering of freckles you adore dance with the flush on her cheeks. Judging by the creases next to her eyes and the smile she wears, she’s languishing in how you look too.

“I sure did a number on you, huh?”

“A little,” you mutter. But you know you’re not fooling her.

Ellie settles at your side and weaves an arm behind your neck, loosely holding you to her. You stay like that for a few seconds; quietly intertwined.

You look up at her through your lashes and break the silence. “Love you, Els.”

She smiles and presses one last kiss to your nose. “Love you too, weirdo.”

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us part 2

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bunnyreaper · 5 months

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johnny is the wolf plushie that watches over your bed—but is he something more?

(18+/MDNI, plushophilia, wolf!shifter, mild a/b/o, mentions of blood.

part of my plushie-verse, and definitely with @iciclesses in mind <3)

it was a random tuesday in june when he turned up on your doorstep—the most precious little wolf puppy plushie that probably has ever existed, at least in your eyes.

his brown-gray fur is silky smooth, with the journey in the post smoothing the hair atop his head into a perfect peak, you don't have the heart to smooth it down, as he just looks so precious with it. his sapphire eyes sparkle brightly and his mouth is stitched into a little smile. there's a note in the package detailing his journey and the coincidences that led him to you. How your dear friend had got invited to a car boot sale at the last minute, had happened upon the wolf plushie as they bought something else and the seller had passed him over with "free to a good home".

your friend immediately knew he belonged with you, and the bond you formed was instant. you rushed out to get him his own collar after just a few days, officially making him your pup.

the wolf was the loyal guard dog of your bed and your dreams, always there watching you and the other plushies that lived in your bed. some nights he was never out of your clutches, cuddled close to you all warm and cosy—other nights he kept watching over the bed, his presence making you feel safe despite the fact he was decidedly not real.

one night, for the first time since getting your pup, you spend the night away from home. you'd felt so bad leaving him behind while you went for your sleepover, but knew you couldn't bring him with you. so you'd kissed him on the forehead, set him on your pillow, and headed out for your night of fun, trying to cast him from your mind—after all, you shouldn't feel so attached to a plushie, right?

that night your rest was fitful, plagued by nightmares. vague figures chased you down, and the only relief you found was when a wolf came to your rescue. you recognise its sparkling blue eyes and familiar fur, yet its form is so different. no longer a sweet-faced pup, but a giant, protective beast—snarling and attacking those who chased you.

the wolf ravaged each attacker and yet… once you were safe, its aggression melted, as it stalked towards you, head bowed making it look respectful, despite the blood dripping from its maw. you know you should be scared of such a beast, and yet you know him—he's your wolf.

he nuzzles into you, surrounding you in his soft fur and warm embrace—covering you in his scent and marking you as his. your body can't help but react to the closeness, the intimacy, as you shiver with need. as both you and the wolf begin to calm, you feel his body shift, back to a man. all thick muscles littered with scars and dark hair—you feel his naked body pressed against yours, and yet as you're about to turn, you wake.

the dream leaves you more hot and bothered than your sleepover, and you find it hard to face your plushie when you return home, knowing the dream has twisted your innocent little plushie into an object of desire and lust. you nuzzle him to your neck, just as he had in the dream, and imagine what kind of mark he would leave on your neck.

over the coming weeks and months, the dreams continue. your wolf protects you, defends you, follows you, and keeps you safe. he's a constant, and you find yourself growing mentally and physically closer to him whether it's in wolf or man form.

the man behind the wolf slowly reveals himself, and he has the same blue eyes and protective stare, with a wicked grin and the same tuft of hair. you grow addicted to his touch, to the feeling of his strong body curled into yours, the feeling of his teeth on your skin, and the sublime stretch when he finally mounts you.

your waking moments grow a little emptier, as you find yourself lost to the feeling that comes with your dreams.

you find yourself distracted and forlorn one night, having been dragged from the comfort of your bed to a bar in town—one that's far too busy and far too loud, and filled with people that make you feel unsafe. you try to dance in peace with your friends, but find it hard to let loose with strangers grinding into you and trying to make a move—it's tiring trying to shoo off each new body that appears and tries to get close to you.

and then relief comes, in the form of a booming scottish voice fighting for your honour, asserting that they need to get out of your personal space. calm floods you instantly, and you turn to face your protector—only to sparkling blue eyes and a face you most definitely recognise.

#john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #bunnywrites #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction

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