#HES INTO YOU YN | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emmyrosee · 5 months ago

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Don’t know if you’re taking request, but imagine modern college au where Toji has baby Megumi (the mother isn’t in their life) and reader, his girlfriend, have class together but has to bring Megumi along cause he has no babysitter or they cancelled, so while sitting on the back seat of the class, Megumi is playing with you hair for attention and so you pick him up and hold him and Megumi kicks his legs happy while he draws you all, as a big happy family UGH

IM GOINF TO DIEEEEEE THIS IS SO PRECIOUS AUGH

And secretly, you’re kind of glad when Megumi’s babysitter cancels, because the little boy is so sweet and so well behaved it’s like he’s not even there anyways, and yet you still adore spending time with him. So when Toji knocks on your door to pick you up, and there’s a tiny Megumi in his arms, he rolls his eyes as you squeal and take Megumi into your own arms, who instinctively wraps his around you.

“Yeah, hug him before me, how nice of ya,” he scoffs, but he smiles as you press a loving kiss to his lips.

“Not his fault I like him more than you,” you coo.

He snorts and grabs your book bag from the ground, carrying it as you make baby small talk with Megumi- what he colored the other day, the pretty kitty he saw on the walk to you, and the new highest number he learned to count to; which, he eagerly displays as you conclude your walk to class.

“You’re so smart, megumi!” You praise, nuzzling his nose with yours while Toji holds the door open for you both. You’re quick to make your way to the back, plopping down on the double table. “Baby, hold megumi for a sec?” You ask, and when Toji takes Megumi back into his arms, you take off your hoodie to lay it on the ground as a slight cushion. “There. Come get comfy Megumi!”

The small boy is let out of his father’s hold and makes his way to the hoodie, sitting down quietly before blinking his big eyes at you and Toji.

“I got your coloring books hold on,” Toji says, taking his own seat as he opens his bag. He pulls out a box of crayons, slightly worn from use, and a big coloring book, filled with dragons and knights for him to fill in. Megumi’s eyes light up as his father passes him the book, and he immediately goes to work.

The class starts like normal. No one says much about Megumi being there, an occasional smile or gesture for a high five from the small boy, but no one bats a negative eye. Megumi’s small but quiet, he’s a good kid who plays with his own toys and sits in place. No one really minds his company- especially not you.

Professor drones on for hours, talking about something you can’t pay attention to- you’re too busy playing with Megumi’s hair, carding the black locks and smiling down at him as he nuzzles into your touch. You’ll get the notes from toji later. You’ve got more important things to take care of.

It isn’t until megumi uncharacteristically stands up with a few crayons in his hand and reaches a hand up to stroke your head, smoothing down any hairs. You turn to him with a smile, patting your lap for him to crawl into, which he does eagerly. You flip your notebook to a random blank sheet- definitely making a note to get a rundown from Toji later- and let him color anything his heart desires. You bury your face into his tiny head of hair and gently rock both of you back and forth, only to smile when you feel Toji’s big, warm hand lay on your back, thumb smoothing up and down your spine. Megumi’s legs dangle and swing happily as he colors, occasionally humming in thought quietly.

The professor finally, after two hours, concluded his lesson, bidding you all farewell and dismissing the class. You stretch and take a peek over to Toji’s messy notes, and you chuckle and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Pay extra close attention so you could teach me, huh?”

He snorts and turns his head to kiss your lips, “you had the kid, I knew your ass wasn’t going to pay attention. Besides- I can always tutor you later,” he chuckles.

You swat his chest with a laugh before turning back to Megumi, “what did you draw, lovey? Can we see?”

You see Megumi ponder for a moment, eyes looking down in thought before he looks up at you and nods quietly. When you open your notebook again, you nearly cry from the drawing.

It’s the three of you- toji drawn as a big square, you, a triangle, and Megumi a small circle. The two of them have dark scribbles to represent their hair, but Megumi took the liberty of being extra careful coloring your hair, making it look nice and pretty. You’re all encapsulated in a big, pink, messy heart that almost fills up the entire page.

“Who’s that?” Toji asks, pointing at a small circle between you and Megumi.

“Mr. Moo,” he says simply, referring to his tiny stuffed cow he sleeps with at night. Toji hums in acknowledgment, but you’re too busy burying your face against Megumi’s, kissing his tiny cheeks and squishing him close. He wraps his arms around you, merely out of instinct.

“Can I have it, Megumi?” You ask, and when the small boy nods, toji scoffs in offense.

“Hey. You got the last one- this one’s mine!” He argues.

“Uhhh, actually, you get Megumi all the time, so I call dibs on all his drawings,” you say back. “It’s a fair trade.”

“I’ll show you a fair trade,” he grumbles, but he leans down to pick up your bag all the same. “Come on. I need a coffee.”

“C’n I have donut?” Megumi asks.

“Why not?” Toji shrugs. “You were good today.”

“He’s good every day,” you hum happily.

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slytherinslut0 · 6 months ago

Text

tom riddle. | this is your punishment

PAIRING: tom riddle x fem!reader

SUMMARY: prefect tom riddle catches you breaking the rules again, and this time decides to provide a different type of punishment he’s certain you won’t soon forget.

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

TAGS: 18+, SMUT MDNI, dubcon (entirely consensual), dom!tom, brat!reader, BDSM (light), intense humiliation kink, sexual punishment/ forced orgasm, inappropriate use of magic/spells, clit-stim orgasm, begging.

You had thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes to dance with disaster. Thirty minutes to dodge destruction. Thirty minutes to descend into the depths of the library, infiltrate the restricted section, slip the book on occlumency you clandestinely borrowed back into its rightful place, and ascend back to your dormitory before the harbinger of your nightmares—Head Prefect Tom Riddle—emerges from the prefects' bathroom and winds his way back down to the dungeons.

Thirty minutes felt like both an eternity and a heartbeat. The weight of impending doom pressing down on your chest as you crept through the darkened corridors, each shadow a lurking menace, each creak of the ancient floorboards a deafening scream that could betray your presence.

And though the stakes were disastrously high, you weren't entirely worried; you knew Tom Riddle's schedule as intimately as the lines on your palm, and he was nothing if not a creature of habit. But of course, there was always the chance. The slim, terrifying possibility that he might deviate from his usual routine. And being caught by him was the absolute last thing you needed right now.

Every second felt like a blade poised above your head, ready to drop at the slightest misstep. It was no secret that Tom Riddle had it out for you. By now, it was practically etched into the very stones of Hogwarts, a fact as immutable as gravity. Everywhere you went, every step you took, he was always there—watching, waiting, eager to catch you in some transgression.

The relentless scrutiny was exhausting. The number of detentions you'd served was staggering, the punishments you'd endured endless. Not to mention the droning, entirely condescending lectures and disappointed yet gleeful stares he always made sure to give you as he personally hauled you to Dumbledores office.

It was all bullshit, and certainly had nothing to do with your frequent rule-breaking or constant sneaking around. No, of course not. You most definitely never toed the line. You were as innocent as they come. As pure as the driven snow. In your mind it all boiled down to the fact that Tom Riddle had it out for you, plain and fucking simple. A personal vendetta written into the fabrication of his identity.

Because even if he did. Even if he did somehow manage to track you and uncover your clandestine activities by just being the perceptive cunning bastard that he is, there are certain things that simply defy logic. Some occurrences that just don't add up.

There are just some instances that can't be explained, save for the simplest conclusion: Tom Riddle has been inside your mind for months.

And that was precisely why you sought out the book on Occlumency—you needed it. Needed to learn how to block Tom out because if he wanted to play mind games, you were determined to play better. You were determined to keep up.

You knew Tom took pleasure in continually getting one step ahead of you, and as much as it utterly ticked you off—perhaps a twisted part of you enjoyed being caught by him—savoured the banter you shared including his threats that next time he'd take matters into his own hands, since even Dumbledore was growing tired of your antics. Perhaps you revelled in provoking him, in defying him like no other student dared, relishing the thrill of the chase.

Perhaps you simply loved to hate him. Because he was always so goddamn good at everything, always in control. It was maddening, intoxicating, and you couldn't deny the rush it gave you. His perfection was a thorn in your side, and yet, you craved it, sought it out like a moth to a flame, even if you'd never admit it.

Not to yourself, and most definitely not to him.

As the night droned on, you managed to make it to the library unscathed, slipping into the restricted section unseen. Everything was going according to plan, not a soul around to forsake you. And yet, just as you slipped the book back onto its origin shelf, you heard a distant yet distinct voice, accompanied by the determined clacking of perfectly polished dress shoes.

"—ah, yes. I believe I informed him that I would have an answer by tomorrow evening."

That voice. You could never fucking mistake it.

"—well, yes, Mr.Riddle—but he said—"

"No matter." The footsteps ceased. "You'll both await my determination until tomorrow's eve. Continue pressing and I will see to make you wait two more."

The bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill over onto the floor beneath you. His arrogance had always been a towering monument, casting shadows that seemed to suffocate all reason. Sure, he was the brightest star in the firmament, undeniably brilliant with features rivaling the gods themselves—chiseled jawline, captivating dark eyes—practically born to bask in his own glory.

Yet, for all his outward perfection, his self-assurance bordered on the verge of the grotesque.

"—yes, o-of course, Mr. Riddle..." you stifled a distasteful scoff. You weren't sure how that individual was even standing with such lack of spine. "—t-thank you, sir."

You didn't stick around to hear a response or the lack thereof. The voices were far enough to keep you breathing but close enough to damn near make you faint because you knew he was most likely just outside the iron gates. You couldn't afford to ponder the improbability of his presence or the surrealness of your predicament. You had to move—deeper, further out of sight.

Which was going perfectly well until you rounded a corner with a little too much intensity and collided directly into a small round table. The sharp screech of wood against wood cutting through the thick silence like a blade, echoing ominously in the vast, dim library. Panic seized you, every nerve electrified, as if the table's cry had been your own.

And it was roughly ten devastating seconds after this that you heard the creak of the iron gates opening behind you, and those same polished footsteps drawing forward with haste.

Fucking hell.

You'd spent enough time in the Forbidden Forest to know how to keep your calm, to know how to effectively avoid being noticed—how to silence your footsteps and slip around obstacles without leaving a trace, how to mask your scent with earth and leaves, how to blend into the shadows to avoid becoming prey to the creatures that lurk in the depths. Yet, the only predator you'd never been able to successfully evade was the one you were currently running from.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

A shadow that clung to you, a hunter whose senses were always sharper, whose instincts were always keener. No matter how well you hid, he always seemed to find you, as if he could sense the very beat of your heart.

Tonight—to your naive surprise, was no different.

"Think you can hide from me, do you?" Tom's voice slithered through the narrow gap between the shelves, smooth and dark as midnight. "Not quite stealthy enough, I'm afraid."

You pressed your back against the cold wood, trying to steady your breathing, but his words seemed to wrap around your throat, squeezing the air out of your lungs and replacing it with something dizzying.

"Why don't you come out, little snake?" He purred, his footsteps drawing closer, each one a death knell. "We both know how this game ends."

Little snake. Two words that rooted you to the spot. It was impossible, inconceivable that he could know it was you. Yet the nickname, the venomous familiarity of it, left no room for doubt.

You slipped around the corner, the two of you making calculated moves like chess pieces. Your board was one of evasion, his one of domination. The gates were in clear view now as you paused to determine his position, silently mapping the space between here and there, certain that if you ran fast enough you could make it—if you moved quietly enough he wouldn't know which direction you were heading.

"You're only making this worse for yourself, darling." Arrogance so thick you weren't sure how he wasn't choking on it. And as much as you detested it, something about it sparked heat between your thighs. "You know I always win."

With the desperation of a cornered, wounded animal, you decided you were done playing and began making a silent yet brisk path toward the gates. You knew you could get about three shelves deep before you needed to take cover again. The silence was deafening, urging you to move faster.

And just as you were about to reach your next hiding spot, just about to duck back in between the shelves, a sudden sensation of pressure coiled around your ankle, cementing you to the spot.

"What the f-"

It was as if the very air had turned to iron, suffocating you with its weight. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared down, disbelief flooding your senses. The once innocuous carpet beneath your feet now glowed with enchantment, its fibres twisting and contorting, snaking around your ankles and climbing steadily up your calves.

"There she is." It was an echo from behind you, deep vocal inflection choking you with its pride. "Always so deliciously predictable.”

The fibres wound tightly around your upper calves, constricting tighter against your leggings as you squirmed, struggling to free yourself. Tom appeared beside you with a leisurely saunter, his smirk so smug it seemed almost tangible.

Your frustration bubbled over into a groan of disbelief. "You charmed the fucking carpet?"

"Of course," Tom replied. "Why do things the hard way when magic can do it for you?" He stepped closer, his eyes roaming over you, drinking in your entirety, running the tip of his wand up your arm. "You should know, little snake, I always find a way to catch my prey."

You watched as two dark eyes dipped low, lingering over the thickness of your thighs, fighting against the tendrils of the enchanted carpet that had now crawled tightly around them. You certainly felt like captured prey, tangled in a web of his making, awaiting his next move—and he certainly didn't miss how tantalizingly prepared for him you were, like a gift waiting to be unravelled.

"Impressive, Riddle—you've really outdone yourself this time," you spat the words through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to smack his wand away, battling the unwanted heat pooling in your core. It was the way he was looking at you. The way you wanted him to keep doing it. "Guess you can add 'carpet tamer' to your long list of accolades now, huh?"

Tom huffed, a glint of amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he forced them up to meet yours. The corners of his lips curled upward in a smirk, every pore radiating control. He looked at you as though you were a puzzle he had already solved, a game he had already won.

"Now now, darling, no need to be so dramatic." His free hand reached up and grasped your jaw, kinking your neck back as he stepped closer to you. "Though, I think 'little fucking brat tamer' might be the more notable achievement to add to the list."

Your stomach leapt, your teeth sinking into your tongue for a moment as you fought to gather your sanity. Your defiance was draining like sand in an hourglass.

"Hm." You huffed, the grip on your jaw firm as steel. "Quite the mouthful."

"So I've been told," he shot back, his eyes glinting like shards of glass under the dim light. "You'd know all about mouthfuls, wouldn't you?"

"You fucking wish." You hoped he did.

His smirk deepened, his fingers digging into your skin like iron claws. You could tell he was amused by you, as though you'd just delivered the punchline of the century, as though you were the world's most revered stand-up comedian. It was maddeningly infuriating and dangerously captivating all at once.

"Still wielding that weapon of a tongue, even when you've so clearly lost." He remarked with a click of his own tongue, releasing his grip on your jaw. Stepping back, his eyes devoured the sight of his spell tangled around your thighs. You caught the tension in his jaw before his eyes snapped back to yours. "Tell me, little snake, do you know why I admire this spell so much?"

Your gaze remained fixed on him, anticipation crawling over your skin like a colony of ants as he scrutinized you. You offer him a shake of your head, a scowl etched deep on your features. "Can't read your mind, Riddle. Not everyone is a skilled Legilimens like yourself."

Tom's chuckle rang out, swallowed by the thick tension in the air, suffusing the oxygen you desperately tried to gulp down. He moved to circle you, and you felt his presence looming behind you, his body brushing against yours like a whisper in the wind. One hand found your hip, however softly, as though he was reluctant to touch you.

"It's a very versatile spell, darling," he dismissed your sass, his voice stripped of all emotion as his lips hovered closer to your ear. "The best part being...I know exactly how to manipulate it to get you to listen."

Words withered on your tongue, attitude wilting in your lungs, and oxygen fleeing from your veins—never to return. Tom's looming presence behind you was enough to make your chest constrict, but his words—his words were a different beast altogether. In the countless times he's caught you, never once did you imagine yourself here, like this, with him.

And never once did you imagine yourself enjoying it this fucking much.

"One might describe it as remarkably adaptable, catering to a multitude of desires..." his hand floated away from your hip, his fingers subtly dancing—the coils responding to his ministrations and slithering higher up your thighs. "And you, little brat, have a plethora of desires at this moment, do you not?"

Your jaw nearly smacked the floor as you watched him command the spell without the aid of his wand. You felt your stomach twist into an iron knot, something heating your blood to flame. Perhaps you underestimated him, perhaps you-

"F-fuck-" you gasped as the charmed fibres slithered between your thighs, coiling higher and higher, wrapping around your waist and ensnaring your arms at your sides. The pressure on your cunt sent your head reeling, your entire body quivering. "Tom...what..."

You know Tom is just beaming with satisfaction, the tremor in your voice eliciting a low growl from deep within him as his hold on your hip resumes, his lips teasing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"Speak up, little doll, articulate your thoughts," he murmured, his words dripping with cunning like poison. "I know you possess an abundance of them."

You suppress a groan, squirming in a futile attempt to free your wrists, to move against the relentless hold. The heat of Tom's presence behind you has your senses in a frenzy. Your head spinning, your body silently yearning for more. You despise how much you're enjoying this, whatever this even is.

You whimper, lids fluttering. "This...this isn't fair..."

"Neither is disobeying the rules every fucking chance you get—but here we are," his hand brushed against your thigh, fingertips barely grazing, his voice drifting further from your ear. "You should understand, this is all your own doing...the charm merely responds to your desires, adapting to fulfill them.”

That insufferable bastard. The list of descriptors you'd use to paint his portrait would stretch longer than the very library you're standing in, and then some. Every time you think you've unraveled his mysteries, he unveils another layer that exposes just how brilliantly twisted he truly is. How charming. How intoxicating.

You loathe him, relish in despising every fiber of his being. Yet you can't deny the fact that he outmaneuvered you, in the most tantalizing manner imaginable.

But still, you attempt to deny it. "That's...that's not..."

He muses. "Isn't it?"

Tom withdraws his hand from your thigh, and almost immediately, you ache for its return, the absence of his touch leaving you yearning. Caught off guard by the tendrils of the charm exerting pressure against your core, teasing over your clit, you squeeze your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your lip to stifle any sounds.

"It appears you have a penchant for challenging me..." his voice is a certain murmur. "It seems the charm knows precisely why.”

All the smugness of a deity himself, a walking, talking colossus among mere mortals. As inevitable as the sunrise each morning. It made you want to bare your teeth at him, but instead, all you could manage was a groan, struggling against the pleasure his charm inflicted upon you.

"I'm not quite certain what you would deem a fitting punishment..." he continues, voice as deep as the depths of your desire. As dark as an all encompassing black hole. "—given the countless ones you've endured in the past months, which have clearly taught you nothing."

You groan again, your head bowing as you gaze down at the tendrils of the enchantment, ensnaring you in the clutches of a man with teeth of diamonds, fingers like razor-sharp claws. It'd been a relentless dance of dominance between you for years, a battle of wills that always seems to end in his favor.

You despise how he effortlessly wields his power over you. How he has so easily read between the lines of your story—knowing precisely the effect he has on your body, knowing exactly what you crave.

You fight back a moan. "Mmmff—fuck..you..."

Tom maneuvers his mouth to your ear, his presence pressing against you from behind, the ghost of his breath caresses your skin as he whispers;

"You wish you could."

Beautiful, insufferable bastard.

"Fuck," you huff through gritted teeth, sweat gathering behind your neck, fingernails biting into your palms as you clench your fists, still battling against the overwhelming pleasure. "Get out of my head.."

You feel a low chuckle resonate against your back, its vibrations stirring something primal within you, his fingers grazing against your side.

"Do you truly believe this is mere manipulation, little snake?" Tom's touch begins to ascend, feather-light and elusive, barely registering against your clothes as he presses closer behind you. "I am intimately acquainted with your desires, darling. I've been privy to them for months." You can almost taste the smugness in his voice. "The truth is fairly simple—you crave me, and you despise yourself for it."

Tom takes a deliberate step back, circling around to stand before you, his gaze sweeping over your disheveled form. Your breath comes in rapid gasps, your skin flushed with desire, and you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. You yearn for more of him, yet you resist acknowledging it, even to yourself.

It's as though he can see your thoughts, his eyes darkening as he drinks you in. "You'd go to any lengths to avoid admitting it, wouldn't you?"

"Gods—" he's right, and you hate him for it. “Mmmf.”

Tom hums softly, his lips barely suppressing a smirk as he steps closer to you. He reaches up, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he tilts your chin, compelling you to meet his gaze.

"How about we try a simple question?" His dark eyes bore into yours, their depths ablaze with a devilish glint. "Do you wish it to stop?"

You're rendered speechless. The egotistic side of you wants you to say yes—while the other, larger part is consumed with an insatiable hunger for more, for him. The charm swirls over your clit, applying increased pressure against your leggings, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip again to stifle a desperate moan. You couldn't answer him if you tried.

Tom's eyes roam over your face, not willing to miss a thing. "Use your words...tell me what you need..."

The sensation against your clit intensifies further, as if dancing to the rhythm of his words. You can feel his gaze boring into you as the heat between your thighs surges, and you realize you're on the brink of climax. And Tom knows it.

"Fuck..." your hips twitch involuntarily—torn between craving more friction and fleeing from it—your mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. Tom brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, his gaze fixed on his own movements, and you feel yourself unraveling, succumbing to the scorching intensity of his eyes—two dark pools of permanent ink. "Tom...please..."

His grip tightens. His jaw clenches. "Say it."

Shame courses through your veins, searing your skin like molten lava, the prickling sensation drowning you. You're on the verge of climaxing from an enchanted carpet, a manifestation of his spell, and the humiliation threatens to consume you.

"I need you-" you gasp, the words tumbling from your lips in a pitiful plea, desperation sinking its claws into your soul. So close...too close. "Please—please, I—I don't want to cum from this—I..."

Oh, but you do. You most certainly fucking do though the mere thought of admitting it feels like a dagger twisting in your gut. Tom's eyes glint with amusement, his head cocked slightly as he regards you with a faux expression of pity, as artificial as the plastic plants in the common room.

"I've truly made a mess of you, haven't I?" His hand glides down from your face, tracing a path along your neck, lightly grazing over your collarbone. "Tell me what you want from me."

Gods, you ache to strike him—yet crave to kiss him and cry out his name with equal fervour. Your defiance lies shattered, a broken relic at your feet.

You peer up at him, pleading. "Please, Tom, please touch me—I need you..."

A smirk toys at his lips, his fingers slipping under your jaw once more to hold you steady as he leans in closer.

"Touch you?" His voice is like a loaded gun, his fingers the bullets—intent cocked and ready to annihilate, but instead he taunts you, keeps you on edge, pressing the barrel against your temple just to see the look in your eyes. "You want me, the man you so madly fucking detest, to touch you."

You lack the strength to command him to go to hell, but oh, how you wish you did. Just to witness his reaction, to see what he’d do next. Despite his appalling self-assurance, you can see behind the mask—see how he is genuinely taken aback by your submission, as though he never expected you to surrender, to confess your desire for him.

"Tom, please..." you beg, trembling with anticipation, your impending climax a rapidly swelling tide. "I want you...I want you to make me cum—you-you win."

Tom pulls back from your ear to regard you, his gaze fully focused this time. He takes in the sight of you—trembling, panting, wide-eyed before him—his expression conveying complete contentment in simply observing you as you struggle to persuade him to touch you.

That familiar taunting grin lingers upon his lips, uncontainable, and you know he's relishing this moment far too much.

"I know," he says softly, his thumb tracing your jawline as his hand falls to your neck. "I always do, don't I, little doll..."

His voice drifts over you like smoke, thick and intoxicating, wrapping around you in a dizzying embrace. The intensity of the charm wavers slightly, granting you a momentary reprieve to catch your breath as Tom leans in, so close that you can feel his exhales caressing your lips. Your head spins, every sense overwhelmed by his presence.

"But you deserve this—" he continues, his voice a rumble like thunder through your veins. "—you deserve to be humiliated like this, to break for me without my hands ever touching you." His mouth hovers just millimeters from yours, taunting you with its nearness. "This is your punishment, little doll...and you're going to take it."

The pleasure between your thighs swells once more as the charm resumes its sinuous movements and you can't suppress the moan that escapes your lips, mingling with the groan of utter frustration. All you can do is stare at him.

Tom hums, amused. "Because you revel in it, don't you? Being a little disobedient brat..."

Your eyes glaze over, your pulse soaring as Tom's breath once again brushes against your parted lips. The ache for him is almost unbearable, as if he's injected something into your veins, rendering you unable to function without him. It's maddening, in the most exquisite way imaginable.

"You're-ohh-fuck.." your voice comes out as a moan, low and breathy, the words trailing off as the charm adds pressure to your clit, stars dancing at the edges of your vision. "Gods..."

"There we go, just as I like you,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing over your jaw. "Unable to unleash that pretty little mouth. Perfectly shattered for me."

You clench around nothing, yearning to scoff. "Mmmf—never..."

Tom chuckles at your feeble attempt at defiance, though the sound carries a hollow, half-hearted quality. You both know you've passed the point of return. His fingers trace along the edge of your jaw, until his palm cradles your face, his thumb brushing gently across your lips.

"Is that so?" He murmurs softly, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "Well then, go ahead...let that pretty mouth run wild...prove that your defiance is more than just an act..."

The way he wields his power has you teetering on the brink of madness, and you despise the fact that you've revelled in every torturous moment of it. You long to snap back, to wield your tongue, to curse him—anything to grasp onto even a shred of control. But every fucking word is a struggle, every moment not focused on your breathing is an achievement.

You squeeze your eyes shut, channeling all the energy you have left. "You...you're such an...arrogant—mmf—I...I hate you..."

"Mhm. You hate me." He cooes. "And yet, here you are..." his voice is as soft as feathers, as warm as the morning sun, the unmistakable taunt laced within. His thumb presses against your bottom lip, slipping between your teeth. "...falling apart for a mere spell, begging for me, for my touch..."

You feel Tom's thumb pressing against your tongue as you whimper. You attempt to speak, to convey something, but instead, you find yourself instinctively sucking lightly against his thumb in response.

"Mm." Tom's brow lifts slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. He seems pleased with your reaction. "A much better use for that mouth."

You're beyond caring about the way he's taunting you, how he's systematically humiliated and debased you, stripping away every ounce of defiance without ever even touching your skin. Tremors wrack your body from the overwhelming sensations, rendering coherent thought nearly impossible.

Your head lolls to the side, constrained by his hand, as waves of pleasure crash over you, your climax approaching rapidly and dangerously.

"Fuck-I'm..." you manage to squeak, his thumb still nestled in your mouth. "Mmmf-"

Tom's eyes darken with satisfaction as he watches you unravel, his thumb pressing deeper into your mouth, a silent command for you to keep sucking. The enchantment continues its relentless assault—tightening around you, swirling over your clit and amplifying the pleasure until it's almost unbearable.

"Go on," he murmurs, his voice a blend of silk and steel. "Let go for me. Show me just how much you need this."

Your body trembles violently, your muscles tensing as the climax rips through you. You can't hold back the moan that escapes around his thumb, your entire being consumed by the intensity of the release that you've desperately fought off for so long. Tom's grip on your jaw tightens, keeping you in place, ensuring you can't escape the exquisite torment he's orchestrated.

"There it is," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Perfectly broken, just for me."

Your eyes are squeezed shut so tightly it's almost painful, his thumb buried in your mouth muffling any sounds of pleasure that threaten to escape. The evidence of your desire pools between your thighs, your embarrassment stripping you raw as you slowly begin to return to reality, the spell gradually losing its grip around you.

You struggle to find your breath, your thoughts, your sanity, but Tom doesn't grant you much reprieve before he's tugging your head back towards his, forcing you to focus on him.

"You should see yourself." He withdraws his thumb from your mouth, trailing the remnants of saliva over your cheek as he assesses you. "You're a vision."

You try to summon the strength to argue, to reclaim some semblance of defiance, but the attempt dies in your throat, unable to comprehend the fact that those words sounded like a fucking compliment. Your body is trembling with the aftershocks of your climax, and you can only manage a soft whimper. He looks at you as if you are his masterpiece, perfectly crafted and beautifully ruined.

"Remember this, little snake," he whispers, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Remember how easily I can break you. How much you crave it."

You exhale slowly as you feel the charm dissipate, the carpet settling back into its rightful place at your feet. Tom's hand falls away from your face, but the tension between you remains palpable, neither of you daring to make a move.

"And as for the book," he adds, his eyes flashing to the bookshelf behind you, the one home to the Occlumency text you borrowed. "You may want to keep it. You're not nearly as skilled as you think you are."

And with that, he smooths out his uniform and strides past you without a second glance.

thank you to my babies @doremimosasol and @pizzaapeteer for proofreading this. means the world to me🖤

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velvetwilde · 7 months ago

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He will always be my akward little baby <3

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sourlemonadez · 11 months ago

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cake batter goes boom and then splat

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katsukiizmoon · 1 year ago

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*whimpers*

Katsuki being one of those men with an elaborate shower routine. He applies hair oils once or twice a week. His body wash is coconut and caramel.

Katsuki uses an body net or body scrubber and a sugar scrub weekly. He’s got a stupid fuckin towel warmer and wears a goddamn shower cap in between wash days.

At first he thought it was stupid but his mama told him to wash his ass and exfoliate or he’d never be the best. And then next thing he knows you’re coming into his life.

You gasp when his skincare is a face wash and maybe moisturizer. The next time you’re in his apartment you spend time in his luxurious bathroom lining up different products and leaving sticky notes on his mirror.

His skin actually glows now, it’s so moisturized and plump. You’ve even convinced him to go get facials with you next week, and manipedis. Something about manicured hands being the sexiest thing in the world. He’s already picked out your nails for you after spending an hour browsing through Pinterest inspo.

And when you shower at his place you leave smelling like caramel and coconut!! He notices a little bit of his body scrub is gone and makes mental note to get a few more options for you. The both of you shower together here and there and you make sure to massage his muscles with soap.

N afterwards you’re rubbing Shea butter all over his back and chest. Katsuki massages it into your thighs and lower back, working out your tight muscles and after you just kind of lay there in the AC.

I just- he hhhnnghh idunnowhattodohndnhshzhnnnghh

#fuuuuuck #guys I was about to shower idk what to do now I’m just he’s so fuck #god #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou headcanons #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x yn #bakugo x yn #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugo x y/n #katsuki x yn #katsuki x y/n

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kawaiialeisha · 1 year ago

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Wally Learns How to Dance 🎶

He thinks he’s clever… huh?

he was-

This comic is meant for @sillyfodya since we agreed on a lil art trade :3 (This took so long to make, I apologise for the wait!! 😭)

Look at you two go! Wally is dancing with you!

I wonder how he caught on so quick…

Maybe Barnaby taught him for certain situations 🤭

EDIT: THANK YOU TO THE PERSON WHO SUGGESTED THIS SONG!! THEY ARE DANCING TO THIS… MY HEARTTT 💗

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creechurunderurbed · 1 month ago

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into the y/nism, friendship where you are bullied

#he is bestie but he is also going into the garbage compactor if he dont shut his mouth real soon #how do you draw a y/n emoting uhhhhhh #its a process ill figure it out thumbs up #fnaf #fnaf security breach #security breach #fnaf sb #the daycare attendant #dca fanart #dca sun #fnaf daycare attendant #sun fnaf #the dca #Fnaf yn #sun and yn #sassy not so little creechur i am going to implode him with my mind and morph him into a tuna can #heart emoji #the paper is a drawing btw based on help wanted i kinda forgot to communicate that well what so ever erm woops

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formulaonedirection · 8 months ago

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Lewis up close

#lewis hamilton #contributing to the lewis hamilton economy on this boopsgiving #he has the world's most perfect nose lips and eyes argue with the wall #nadia's things #YN I hope you take full advantage of gif number 2

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fuckyeahchinesefashion · 18 days ago

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character zhang liao 张辽 (aka zhang wenyuan张文远，wenyuan is his courtesy name) from code: kite/ashes of the kingdom代号鸢（coser cr 津岛梦海 female coser, doll cr 哑铃哑铃哑铃）

#china #fashion #chinese fashion #costume #inspiration #he is the foster father of the shadow guardian and best friend of players/yn #Because the player is a female disguised as a prince #at first he thought you were a punk who seduced and abducted his daughter and wanted to kill you #but later found out that you were a girl so he doted on you and pampered you a lot #He's good at embroidery and cooking treats #he will embroider pretty dresses for you #and send you his own handmade desserts and dianxin #And he's a great general of the Xiliang army #There's a lot of smut on AO3 of him and the players lmao

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internet-rat · 4 months ago

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Illumi x spouse (any POV)

Jerking him off + fluff

NSFW below cut

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You were attempting to sneak up on your assassin husband while he was in his needle workshop. He was crafting new needles with his deft hands. And he was wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt while standing over his work. The casual clothes only made him look more enticing. You could see the outline of his round, firm ass through his sweatpants. You simply had to try and sneak up on him and give his butt a squeeze.

Despite the stealthiness of your approach, it was clear Illumi was aware of your presence moments before you reached him; whether it was the slight shift in air or just an assassin's intuition, he didn't startle at the sudden squeeze. Instead, Illumi stood still, allowing the intimacy of the moment without resistance.

"You're awake," he stated, a hint of amusement coloring his usually monotone voice. He turned around to face you, his hair cascading over his shoulders and his dark eyes scanning your features.

"You seem to have taken a liking to these... sweatpants," he commented, the slightest inflection in his voice making it sound like he was almost teasing you. His hand came up to rest atop yours, still on his firm buttocks, acknowledging your touch and perhaps inviting it.

"They do look good on you," you whisper teasingly as you lean against his back and let one of your hands squeeze his bulge.

Illumi didn't move as you pressed against him, your body's warmth contrasting with the cool ambiance of his workshop. His breathing remained steady and controlled, yet there was something in the way he tilted his head ever so slightly, giving you silent, unspoken permission to continue.

"Is that so?" His voice was a mere whisper, betraying no hint of the swirling undercurrents that your actions stirred within him. You could feel the muscles of his back tense against you as your hand ventured forward.

As your hand made contact with his growing bulge, Illumi's body stiffened for a moment—a rare reaction from someone who typically held unyielding control over his physical responses. "You're rather bold this morning," he observed, his voice still holding that same neutral tone, but his eyes, dark and fathomless, flickered with a spark of something more primal.

A soft yet calculating smile seemed to ghost across his lips, a subtle indication that your actions were having their desired effect. "It appears that today, my attention will be required here, with you," Illumi continued, turning his head slightly to lock eyes with you, a silent acknowledgement of the intimacy you've initiated. His hand, the one atop yours, pressed your palm deeper against his firmness, indicating not just his acceptance, but his desire for your continued exploration.

You knew he needed your touch. It was not something he would always outright say, because he was used to burying his own needs. But you felt it. You leaned against his back, using your free hand to caress one of his voluminous pecs, playing with his nipple. The other stroked his bulge through his sweatpants. You stood on your toes, your head on his shoulder. You spoke softly. "Let me take care of you, Lumi..."

The almost imperceptible tightening of Illumi's jaw was the only sign of his response to your caress, the sensation of your fingertips playing with his nipple sending a rare shiver through his usually impassive frame. You could sense a subdued current of anticipation coursing through him, a rare glimpse of vulnerability.

"Take care...?" he echoed, the words laced with a nuanced understanding. He was accustomed to taking care of everything and everyone else—completing contracts, fulfilling missions, ensuring his family's dominion, caring for his siblings. Yet, here in your tender grasp, Illumi found himself in the unusual position of being the one cared for, a sentiment that both confounded and intrigued him.

With a slow pivot of his body, he turned to face you, his eyes taking on a subtle glint as they roved over the sight of you in your silk nightgown. The garment accentuated your form, a vision that he found provocatively appealing.

Illumi's hand rose to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek in a manner that could almost be considered affectionate. "You wish to look after me, then proceed," he said, his voice low and smooth like the slide of silk against skin. It was an invitation, a concession of his need for your touch, cloaked in the guise of granting permission.

Standing before you, Illumi's controlled exterior wavered, allowing you to witness the subtle signs of his desire: the faint rise and fall of his chest, the slight dilation of his pupils, the faintest tremor in the hand that now wandered from your cheek down to the dip of your waist. It was an admission without words, a silent plea for the care you offered.

You admired the slight blush that tinted his pale cheeks. Gently placing your hands on his hips, you made him sit on the empty space of his workbench. The shift from standing to sitting didn't affect Illumi's composure; he observed every movement, allowing your hands to guide him. He sat on the edge of the workbench with an assassin's grace, every action performed with lethal precision now used to silently acquiesce to your ministrations.

When your lips met his, he was still for just a fraction of a second before he reciprocated, his mouth moving against yours with a slow, almost careful exploration. The stark contrast between his usually detached demeanor and this display of subtle passion could not have been more profound.

You deftly freed his length, and the touch of your hand elicited a faint, almost imperceptible hitch in his breathing. Illumi's eyelids fluttered closed at the sensation, a sign of his surrender to the pleasure you provided. His cock, already firm and leaking, throbbed against your grasp, demanding attention that he himself would never vocally request.

The room was filled with the sound of your joined breathing and the soft, slick rhythmic sounds as you stroked him. Illumi's head tilted back ever so slightly, exposing the column of his pale throat, a silent testament to the effect you had on him. For once, his perfect control wavered under the weight of his body's raw, honest response to your touch.

You moved to kiss and suck his neck while your hand stroked his cock. Using your free hand, you squeezed his thigh. You whispered against his neck. "That's it... Let me take care of you, my pretty boy..."

The term of endearment, spoken so tenderly against the sensitive skin of his neck, seemed to reach Illumi on a level far deeper than the physical contact. His throat vibrated with a restrained sound that was neither a groan nor a sigh but something in between—an audible release of the tension he often kept tightly wound within him.

As you lavished affection on his neck, his muscles tensed in response to the dual sensations of your whisper and your hand's movements on his aroused flesh. The hand on his thigh felt both grounding and provocative, a combination that only you could elicit from him. A rare, discernible shudder traveled through Illumi's body—a visceral reaction to the intensity of your care.

You kept kissing his neck and stroking his cock. It was wet with his precum, allowing you to stroke faster, applying just the right amount of pressure you knew he needed. You spoke softly against his neck. "Let go... Make your cute noises for me... Don't hold back."

The coaxing whisper against his skin, paired with the rhythmic strokes of your hand, finally started to unravel Illumi's armored restraint. His breathing, once measured and controlled, quickened. He allowed the smallest of sounds to escape his lips—a soft, almost inaudible moan that acknowledged the intensity of his pleasure.

As your strokes grew more fervent, Illumi's hand found its way to your hair, his fingers threading through the strands without pulling or guiding, merely seeking a physical connection. The intimacy of your actions and words coaxed more of those rare sounds from him, each one a small victory against his usual silence.

Illumi's usually impassive face was now adorned with a faint flush, and his dark eyes, half-lidded, focused intently on you as if you were both the architect of his undoing and the anchor keeping him moored in the storm of sensation you were expertly eliciting from him.

"Louder. Let me hear that pretty voice," you command softly before giving his neck a soft bite.

Under the insistence of your dominant tone, Illumi's self-imposed silence cracked further. The bite, a delicate sting against his pale skin, elicited a sharper moan from his lips—louder, as per your command, and laden with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

Your hand moved over him with a swiftness that drew out the sultry sounds you so desired. The pleasure was clear not only in the noises he made but in the tension of his muscles, the grip in your hair tightening just a fraction—not enough to hurt, but enough to convey the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. His cock was getting slippery from his own precum. It was hard and twitching desperately into your hand.

You heard him make an especially cute loud moan, and knew he was close. You kept stroking him and kissed him on the lips, letting your tongue fuck his mouth until you made him breathless. When you pulled away from the kiss you used your free hand to pull at his hair, so you could kiss and suck on his neck. Then you commanded him. "Cum for me, my darling..."

The words were the final catalyst, and Illumi's control shattered. A gasp caught in his throat, and the tension that had wound him so tight broke, sending waves of pleasure radiating through him. He came at your command, his seed spilling warmly over your hand in rhythmic pulses, each one accompanied by a breathy echo of your name, a mantra of his surrender to the intimate care you provided. You did not stop stroking him until he was completely drained. You knew when to stop because he trembled and whimpered "Ah~ s-stop, y/n... It is so sensitive..." That was when you stepped even closer between his legs where he was sitting on the bench and you gently hugged him.

As he sat on the edge of the workbench, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of release, Illumi allowed himself to be enveloped in your embrace. He seemed to melt into you, a rare sight of surrender from the composed assassin. His long arms, so often instruments of death, wrapped around you with a careful tenderness.

You spoke softly. "I love you, Lumi..." The words resonated within him, stirring something profound and inexpressible.

"I... know," was all he managed, a brief utterance spoken against your hair. Though he might not say the words back, not yet versed in the language of love, the sentiment was there, raw and real, in the way he held you close.

His body relaxed against yours, the steady beat of his heart audible in the quiet of the room, syncing with yours in a silent duet. There was solace to be found in the warmth of your bodies, an unspoken promise that no matter how dark his world might be, he would always seek the light you provided.

#COME GET YOUR FILTH AND FLUFF ALL AT ONCE #EXTRA EXTRA #READ ALL ABOUT IT #ILLUMI GETTING JANKED OFF???#HOW WILL HE REACT??#WILL HE COOOOM??#FIND OUT #illumi headcanons #hxh headcanons #hxh #illumi #hxh imagines #illumi zoldyck #hxh illumi #illumi x you #illumi x yn #illumi smut

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