#Tom answer
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
rosecartridge · 5 months ago
Text
@onexeyedxtwin asked: : Is that their husband and wife they see?? Time to cover them with black lipstick marks! ....Despite the lack of black lipstick.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Darling~!” 
Allison softly laughs, her face a mess of gray blush. 
Tumblr media
Tom struggles with his words other than grumbles but his face is as flush as Allison’s and his tail wagging up a storm.
2 notes · View notes
rcseteaparty · 1 year ago
Text
@triiiplegoddcss asked: Skylar isn't feeling the best right now, so they're gonna start kissing their boyfriend so they can feel better.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
"Love, is everything-"
Tom lets out a loud surprised squeak as he his absolutely smothered in kisses. He hadn't expected that, but he's not going to complain about the sudden kiss attack. He does gently cup Sky's face though to ask.
Tumblr media
"Stay at home and snuggle kind of day?"
2 notes · View notes
horrifichaunts · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
Tom tag dump
0 notes
mobius-m-mobius · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
it's a fair question 🙃 Lokius Incorrect Quotes [12/∞]
2K notes · View notes
marvelsswansong · 1 year ago
Note
Imagine corio seeing a woman flirt with r he’s so confused cuz he’s used to disgusting men after her only
Tumblr media
no but like seriously 🌞👉👈
Corio isn't oblivious to the fact that there is a price for dating someone as beautiful as you. Namely, that others - doesn't matter if they're complete strangers or close working colleagues - will secretly want you, with some of them even being bold enough to try and entice you.
This is all much to his annoyance, as he tries being very public about the fact that you're his. Think constant arm around your waist, aggressive kisses in public, loudly calling you 'darling' from across the room. But that doesn't seem to deter everyone.
Especially not the types of men in the Capitol.
If he's feeling calmer that day, he might just stop at glaring at the man whilst pulling you away by the waist, or knocking the breath of you by suddenly grabbing your face and kissing you fiercely for the crowd of men to see. If he's in a sour mood, or it's been a hard week, you have to be careful to keep an eye on the blonde in case he flies into a fit of rage and his mind starts to scan the room for whatever is sharp and capable of causing damage.
"Sometimes I feel as if I have to babysit you." you would tease after one particularly harsh night, where you and Corio get thrown out of a house party after he smashed another man's face into the wall and then proceeded to twist the man's arm to the point of almost breaking a bone. Granted, the man had been extremely aggressive towards you and making very inappropriate comments, but it'd been rather awkward to see the stranger be carried onto an ambulance whilst the head of the household ordered the both of you out.
Chest heaving and knuckles still bruised from the impact, he'd just kiss you again, his tongue tasting of copper.
"Can't help it. You're too pretty." he whispers, and all your criticisms of him would fly out the window.
But Coriolanus is always less guarded when it's a woman around you. After all, you have so many best friends who are women, you spend so much time around grandma'am and Tigirs, and so on. He just associates women being around you with platonic love and comfort.
So when you leave him to go get some drinks at the bar, a fancy upper east side bar you've been begging to go to, he's too busy searching the room for potential men who approach you to notice the red haired woman beelining towards you. She bumps into you 'on accident', pink champagne spilling over the tip of the glass just a bit - a light splash on your jeans, but nothing too bad.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." she quickly says, grabbing a nearby napkin to hand it off to you. Coriolanus watches the interaction from the back of the club, the specifics of your conversation with her unintelligble over the loud music, but he doesn't think anything much of it. Even when the auburn haired woman's fingers brush against yours whilst exchanging the napkin.
He watches as you smile politely at her, probably telling her that it's okay, before turning around to the bartender to make an order. The woman next to you continues to talk to you through out the exchange, which again doesn't raise any red flags to Corio.
After all, women are very friendly by nature. It's normal that someone, especially a stranger who feels bad for spilling a drink on you, wants to continue to talk to you.
You don't think much of it either on your end, other than thinking that she - Clara, she tells you her name after a soft giggle - is very nice.
It's only when the drinks arrive and the woman stops you, lightly sitting you back down and brushing away the hair from your eyes, that Coriolanus starts feeling rather odd. The sudden wide eyes on your face and the red haired woman's smirk, before she slides you a piece of paper from her back pocket and lets you go, raises a lot of questions in his mind.
His top options? Something along the lines of bribery or illegal drugs. Or maybe she's using you to get something from him. Or maybe she wants something from your family.
What he doesn't expect, is for you to come back totally speechless, fingers deftly hanging onto the small piece of paper. You look somewhere between embarrassed and shocked, refusing to meet your boyfriend's eyes as you sit down next to him. He frowns at that, patting his lap instead.
Normally, you'd sit on his legs without a second thought. This time though, you hesitate.
"What'd she want? Drugs? Mone-" he growls, only to be cut off by the stranger.
"So you weren't lying. You do have a boyfriend." the red haired woman cuts into the conversation, now sitting on the velvet chair across from you. Coriolanus swears his jaw almost drops when the woman laughs seductively, winking at you whilst uncrossing her legs.
"You can sit on my lap instead, honey."
"I, you- I just-" Coriolanus starts speaking in an attempt to swear or scare her off, but his mind totally blanks.
You've never seen your boyfriend this flustered. His pale complexion breaks into a dark shade of red, his usually stern gaze darting back and forth between you and the woman, his speech stuttered and jumbled. It's YOU who ends up having the composure to let her down gently, holding out the paper with her phone number out towards her and informing her that you love your boyfriend very much and you're not that interested.
She pouts at that, and it makes your boyfriend's jaw clench so hard his face aches.
"Aw... alright, darling. But keep the paper. You know, just in case you wanna play."
With a wink and a hair flip, she disappears into the dark crowd of sweaty bodies and loud music. It's only then that your boyfriend snaps into action, taking the paper into his hands and shredding it to pieces.
"She called you darling." he snarls, angry. "Only I get to call you darling."
You just giggle, kissing away his sour expression, before tugging at his sleeves.
"Come on, forget about it. Let's just dance." you say, the alcohol in your veins still making you feel buzzed. He complies, never being able to say no to you, but the entire night, he can't help but hold you very close and glare at everyone who approaches you or even looks at you.
Regardless of their gender.
Now, he has to protect you from everyone, he thinks.
BONUS SCENARIO (later in the night)
You've had one too many drinks and yell into Coriolanus' ear that you really need to go to the bathroom. You clutch your handbag and stumble into the corridor, leaving your boyfriend alone by the bar. A stunning blonde woman slides into the empty seat next to him, glossy lips parting to ask a question.
Thinking she's going to hit on him, he raises his right hand, stopping her on the spot.
"I'm not interested, sorry."
The woman scoffs at that, ordering a tequila shot and almost glaring at him.
"Neither am I, genius. I was just wondering if you knew the name of the cutie who just went to the bathroom."
The moment you come back, he practically drags you out of the bar and hails a cab back to the apartment.
He's had enough of women trying to steal you from him. At least for that night.
Tumblr media
a/n: hope you guys like this small type of blurbs too in between major fics hehe
1K notes · View notes
semperamans · 6 months ago
Note
Hear me out: Johnny with a breeding kink.
HEAR ME OUT: Johnny putting his pretty lil thing in a mating press because he’s got to keep her by his side you know? :(( she’s still young and the old geezer wants her all for himself!! :(((((
screaming. sobbing. throwing up. banging my head on the wall. choking on a stick. pulling my hair out. rocking back and forth.
i've never written actual smut before. so if you do read this, please go so easy on me. this gets a little wild, so hold tight.
is it wrong that johnny just wants to keep you? that he wants you - you sweet, soft, angel of a girl - to be his for a lifetime? he doesn't think so, not when he frames it like that. it sounds just fine, romantic even, and sure, there are some years between you, but you're grown n'would never do nothin' you didn't wanna do, so johnny thinks it's fine. surely what he’s got planned is totally fine.
really it's danny's fault - that's what johnny tells himself - danny with his carefree nature and cut-off shirts and innocence that drips off him like rainwater. danny reminds johnny of his age - calls him old man in that good-natured way that makes him want to bash his fuckin' head into the concrete - and he’s fickle and naive and indecisive and your age and that terrifies johnny. but you aren’t like that. you can’t be like that because johnny is happy thanks to you so the mere thought of you changing your mind - of pushing him to the side - makes him fucking sick. he’s so in love with so much of you; your sweet dresses and pretty fingernail polish and soft hands. your delicate mouth and those starry eyes that gaze upon him like he's new and shiny and so he doesn’t like the idea of you ever leaving. what would he do without you? what would he do if you decided you didn't want some old man n’picked a boy like danny? johnny needs you. he needs you to never leave him. needs you to need him and so it begins.
"don't gotta rubber, baby. can't fuck you, y'know? don't want y'gettin' pregnant." johnny's a fuckin' liar, but he has to be for this to all work the way he wants. he’s got you splayed beneath him; your eyes are wide, lips puffy and bruised, parted breathlessly around his name and he knows you're ravenous; faint with a need that burns so bright and hot it evaporates every other thought from your mind. he can see it on your face - the way you look at him like he holds the world on his goddamn shoulders - nothing matters but him. no one exists in your world but him but then he's pulling away. shaking his head. making you sad. making you desperate.
"b-but s’okay… you can - still - if you want. i’ll let you.”
"mm, no can do, sweets." every inch of your skin blazes where the two of you press together. you're tangled so beautifully; two puzzle pieces meant to be connected, but now he's not lookin' at you and doesn't he love you? doesn't he know how badly you need this? need him? “s’alright though, yeah?” he says and you heave a discontented grunt at him. “now now, don’t be greedy. you already came f’me.” twice; once on his tongue the other on his fingers but who is keeping track? tears cling to your lashes and your chest heaves as you stutter over words. tryin’ to tell him that you wanna feel him slide into your weeping cunt, but all you’ve got are sobs. you sweet dumb baby with your lust-addled mind. you can only say his name. can only beg for his attention.
"johnny." you're squirming, legs wrapping tight around his hips, pressing him against you so deliciously he has to school his face into indifference. it would be so easy, he thinks. it would feel so good, he knows. but he can’t be impulsive. this is a game and he’s determined to win.
"sorry, baby. jus' can't. maybe next time.”
“no! please. please, johnny. baby. please.” you move your hips, wetness kissing his achingly hard cock and - you know what - he’s this close to giving up when your hand, slick with spit, reaches down to wrap around him. johnny hisses, arching forward, rutting up into the softness of your curled fingers because he’s just a man. there’s only so much he can withstand.
"want you inside,” you whine moving your hand up and down up and down just like benny taught ya - the way johnny likes it. “c’mon.” your thumb swirls around his head, bringing him closer. closer. closer to where you want him. “s’okay. promise.” the tip of his cock wedges against your lips, just a little kiss s’all, but it’s so slick it would just take one push. one little thrust and you’d — “just pull out." johnny smiles. he won't. knows he won't. knows he's a bad man - the worst kind of man - but this is the only way he can keep you, to make sure you stay his sweet girl forever. he bumps his nose against yours, cups your face, puts the sweetest kiss on your lips - almost like an apology.
"y'sure?"
and you've only just breathed "yes" when he plunges in. there’s a moment of aching pain as you adjust to the sheer stretch, but johnny knows how you are - knows how tight you always are - fuck - and licks into your mouth. it’s plushy lips and clashing teeth and suckling tongue as he begins to move and you’re soaked. johnny doesn’t know if it’s his spit or precum or you, but it’s hot, so hot and he’s never fucked you like this - not raw - and it’s a whole new fuckin’ world. you’re velvety, he knew you would be and would any boy your age be able to fuck this pussy without cumming instantaneously? he doubts it. doubts anyone could take care of you the way he can. his thrusts jolt you; cute tits jiggling and he knows you were made for him, for lovin' him. put on this earth to be his baby - to have his baby - and he's losing his mind. he's fucked a lot of women in his time, but none of 'em hold a flame to you. you're the inferno. the wildfire. the one he'd let destroy his life - fuck, he may be destroying yours - but he doesn’t care not right now.
"pussy s'glad to see me, huh? loves me, mm?” you can’t even respond, eyes squeezed so tight it almost looks like you’re in pain but he can't stop. not when you're like this; squelchin' 'round him, nails biting bloody crescents into his shoulders. "good girl- g'ah - such a good fuckin' girl f'me. jus' takin' it." there's a litany of his name on your lips, moans tearing from your throat, bouncing off the ceiling fan and he knows some of the guys are downstairs and he’ll hear about this tomorrow but the only thing on his mind is puttin’ a baby in you. “boys are g’nna hear you, doll. why don’t you go on an' tell 'em sweets. tell ‘em who's got you goin' like this.” he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts as you get louder and louder and louder. "who is fuckin' this little hole raw? mm? tell 'em."
you’re a good girl, always listenin’, so you do and my oh my do you sound so pretty; voice thick with want as you sob his name and grunt those words you only ever say when his balls are thwacking against your ass. the bedframe pounds relentlessly against the wall and johnny fleetingly thinks about benny who sleeps just inches away on the other side. he hopes wonders if he's in his bed, cock in hand, enjoying this just as much as he is. johnny takes your hands, lacing your fingers, pressing down down down for leverage.
"y'like lettin' the guys know whose takin’ care of you? lettin' em know my sweet girl - fuck - sweet angel can take cock so well?”
you make these noises - these pathetic little noises - and johnny knows you’re close. knows now is the time to make his move.
“know why it feels so good baby?” he lifts one of your thighs, angling his pelvis so it crashes into yours. “s’cuz you’re fucking a man. m’your man, baby, n’that’s what you need.”
“jus’ needa man - jus’ need you - baby - daddy - fuck.”
he nearly cums - grunts and groans erupting from the depths of his soul because one day you’ll lace those words together with real meaning behind them. now they’re mindless babble - cock drunk nonsense - but oh will that change.
“that’s it baby.” he coos, “look at me sweets, there she is.” one hand on your throat, the other delicately trails up your temple, brushing hair from your face. it’s such a startling juxtaposition from the primal snap of his hips into yours. “don’ jus’ need any man, do you?”
“no - oh god - no need my johnny. need you.” tears streak down your cheeks as you look up at him in pure admiration - he’s your religion. he’s the man you worship. he’s your johnny - your everything.
“s’right. s’it. smart baby. y’need your johnny.”
is this brainwashing? the way you hiccup it back to him, voice as shaky as a newborn fawn, he thinks it might be, but oh well - his thrusts are losing their uniformity, moans gettin’ louder as you squeeze on his cock. he knows he has to stay focused - remember what he’s here for - what he’s here to do.
"gotta pull out soon, darlin.”
and your vice grip somehow grows stronger. he can barely withdraw his cock before your eager pussy gobbles it up. your legs squeeze his hips, ankles locking together because -
"no. y’not goin’ anywhere - please - oh god - please.” johnny could cry with relief. it’s working. god he’s so close. his capable hands lift your hips, sheathing himself so deep inside you it almost hurts.
"what'd'ya mean no?” he asks. “d-don’t wanna get you pregnant, sweets." but he does. he does. he does. he does. "gotta pull out. c-can't cum in ya. you don’t want that.”
“i do! i do.” you plead. “do so bad.” johnny can’t last and that’s okay because you’re so close to being exactly where he needs you.
"gonna get you pregnant." he breathes, pressing his lips to your sweaty collarbone. he bites - hard - “s’thst what you want? wan’ me to give you a baby?”
"yeah." you squeak. "yeah get me pregnant. c'mon" you mindlessly babble, brain rattling 'round your skull with the force of his love. "cum in me. cum in me. cum in me.” it’s a plea. a prayer. it’s everything.
“g’nna fill you up.”
“lemme make you a daddy, johnny. please."
and he's gone. lips careening into yours as you tumble into ecstasy. he fucks you through it - fucks his seed so deep in you you're bound to get pregnant - and he doesn't feel guilty in the slightest - not when you milk him for all he’s got and praise him and tell him you love him over and over and over again. you're so blissfully unaware; too fucked out and infatuated to care that his cum is shoved deep in you and johnny thinks it's fine because now you're his.
now he’s won.
698 notes · View notes
you-know-cchio · 1 month ago
Text
luke "all the facts i give in the show are fucking true" manning vs. alexander "consistently loses the plot" jeremy is truly an unstoppable force meets an immovable object
like sam bullshits his way through facts, so tom and luke can take joy in correcting his mistakes. but correcting aj only brings the others suffering because most of the time, aj himself doesn't necessarily believe anything that comes from his mouth. the man is just saying words recreationally. which also happens to establish the reality of the world the other three exist in.
350 notes · View notes
saintsenara · 9 months ago
Note
Riddle’s extremely fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he’s a doctor (and the fact that he assumes this at all and believes he is being lied to) has some pretty dark implications (which of course no one follows up on). Do you have thoughts?
thank you very much for the ask, anon!
and yes - this has occurred to me too... which means that my thoughts come with a trigger warning for the sexual abuse of a child, and are under the cut.
the relevant scene in canon is, of course, this:
“I am Professor Dumbledore.” “Professor?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like doctor? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?”  He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling.  “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!”  He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.”  Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious.  “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course - well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”
the surface-level reading of this scene - which is clearly what the text wants us to go for - is that riddle thinks he's about to be institutionalised for being "mad" - and, specifically, that he thinks that what dumbledore has been told is his "madness" is actually his magic.
[he is also clearly meant to be read as panicking a little bit that he's fucked around torturing his fellow children and is now about to find out...]
that riddle accepts he's a wizard so easily - and that he is so reassured by dumbledore agreeing that he's not mad - is something the text wants us to read as sinister. him immediately describing himself as "special" is set up as a precursor to the adult voldemort's delusions of grandeur - which the entire arc of the series, ending in his death as an ordinary man, is designed to undermine.
but i've always disliked this reading. the eleven-year-old riddle - a magical child raised around non-magical people - is objectively correct to describe his powers as "special" [in that they make him identifiably different from the crowd] within the context in which he lives. the word choice is nowhere near as deep as dumbledore decides - he's clearly known since he was very young that he's a wizard, but he didn't have the precise language to describe this fundamental part of himself until dumbledore offered it; prior to that, "special" is a perfectly reasonable alternative term.
and, in always knowing that he's a wizard, he also knows that he doesn't have a mental illness - but he must also know that this is something it's near impossible for him to prove.
in the real world, if i spoke to a patient who told me:
“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”
then i would be correct to describe them as experiencing psychosis. and i might - depending on their other symptoms - have reasonable cause to admit them [voluntarily or not] for psychiatric treatment.
riddle is - of course - demonstrably not psychotic. but it's not unreasonable that mrs cole would assume he is - the world she lives in, as a muggle [even if she's a religious one], is one in which people do not possess the ability to move objects or control animals with their minds, and if one of her charges is convinced that he can, then she's justified in seeking medical intervention.
[that psychiatric treatment in the 1930s can be described without exaggeration as inhumane is another matter...]
which is to say, i think we can easily suppose that mrs cole has - prior to dumbledore's arrival - succeeded in having riddle "looked at", and that the idea that he's mentally ill and should be committed to an asylum has been mentioned before. i think most of us would be instinctively [and angrily] wary of doctors if this happened to us, regardless of how nice the doctors in question were.
and maybe that's all there is to it.
and maybe it isn't...
in the doylist text, the eleven-year-old riddle's personality is the way it is because he's the villain of the series. where harry is preternaturally capable, even as a child, of all the things the series defines as admirable - above all, enduring difficulty without complaint - riddle is preternaturally incapable of them. he's meant to come across as unambiguously sinister - and the fact that the text repeatedly emphasises that he has control over his unpleasant traits invites us to view him as someone who is acting with full agency. that he lives in an orphanage is a trope which the text uses, like a campy horror film might, predominately to underscore how creepy he is - and the text, in keeping with its general lack of interest in states and their institutions, never really prompts us to interrogate the impact of his childhood upon the course his life takes.
[this is despite the fact that voldemort's reliving of the night he killed the potters in deathly hallows is an incredibly accurate depiction of ptsd...]
but it's also the case that the eleven-year-old riddle's behaviour and personality fits a pattern we might expect to see in a child who is being abused, sexually or otherwise:
he's aggressive, he has a hair-trigger temper, and he becomes distressed even by behaviour - such as dumbledore speaking mildly and calmly - which would not ordinarily be expected to provoke such a reaction.
his broader emotional state is fractious. his mood changes sharply, he seems to feel emotions very profoundly, he struggles to control his emotional response to things, he's extremely easily irritated, he's attention-seeking - and he particularly seeks negative attention, and he's very highly-strung. his admission in deathly hallows that he feels calm before he kills - or before he otherwise eradicates a threat or a problem - comes with the flip-side that he's someone who appears, when things aren't going well or he finds himself in a situation which he can't control, to become quite anxious. which is a trauma response.
he's extremely isolated. the text presents the fact that he has no friends as a deliberate choice - "lord voldemort has never had a friend, nor do i believe that he has ever wanted one" - and his relationship with everyone else he ever meets, including his fellow orphans, is defined by the text as exclusively involving him controlling, manipulating, and punishing them. or: he is always the more powerful person in the pairing. but this need for control can be read as self-protective just as easily as it can be read as sinister. there are hints in canon that riddle is not just some malevolent force in the orphanage preying on mild-mannered innocents. for example, billy stubbs, the owner of the rabbit he kills, is targeted by riddle as revenge: “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit... well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it? [...] But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before." on the rare occasions billy turns up in fics, he's usually - i find - written very like neville - sweet and guileless and a bit pathetic. but the alternative reading - especially when we take into account that riddle attacks the rabbit rather than billy himself - is that billy is someone he would be afraid to physically confront. indeed, it's striking that voldemort - at all stages of his life - is described as being quite physically fragile. not only is he very thin, but he's always cold and his heartbeat is described several times in canon as irregular. i think this is supposed to be a comment on the physical changes he undergoes the more horcruxes he makes - although the idea that the soul would affect the heart doesn't actually align with how the series understands the soul to relate to the body - but it can also be interpreted perfectly legitimately as something he was experiencing prior to splitting his soul. i am committed to the headcanon that riddle was quite a sickly child - and that this is one of the things which drives his fear of death - and i'm also committed to the idea that his obsession with magic is because the enormity of his magical power makes up for his physical lack. he can defeat - and humiliate and frighten and remove the threat of - billy or dennis [or even an adult man?] with magic. without it, if they were to physically overpower him, then he wouldn't be able to throw them off.
he is extremely nervous about being alone in a room with dumbledore - someone he doesn't know, and who he assumes is connected to a profession [and, maybe, who knows any other doctors he's been previously made to see...] of which he is frightened.
he doesn't trust or confide in anyone - which, as a child, means particularly that he doesn't trust or confide in adults in positions of responsibility. he's clearly uneasy with the idea of finding himself in the subordinate position in an adult-child relationship when dumbledore offers to take him shopping for school supplies - potentially because he's worried that dumbledore will try and dictate or restrict what he's allowed to buy unless he behaves in a certain way... and i am always very struck that dumbledore says in half-blood prince: "He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again." this is presented in the text as evidence that dumbledore is the only person of whom voldemort is afraid - by which the text means that voldemort acknowledges that dumbledore knows that an ordinary man, mortal and unimpressive, lurks behind the mask of unassailable power he has created for himself; and which the text thinks is a good thing. but we can also read it as a self-protective act on riddle's part. in his excitement, he offers dumbledore information [that he is known to be a liar, that he is in trouble a lot, that mrs cole dislikes him and is disinclined to believe anything he says] which would give dumbledore - or anyone in a similar position of power and presumed respectability - cover to abuse him, safe in the knowledge that he would be unlikely to be believed if he reported it.
he doesn't appear to feel safe in the orphanage and he's frequently absent from it - by his own admission, he spends a huge amount of time wandering around london on his own, which may even involve him staying away for several days at a time. nobody appears to notice or care about this.
he's very independent - which the text again presents as evidence of his deliberate self-isolation and rejection of the bonds of love and friendship - and his independence is unusual for a child his age [i.e. that he is capable of doing all his own shopping for school].
his knowledge of violence - i.e. how he designs the trip to the cave to be maximally psychologically devastating for dennis and amy and devoid of repercussions for himself - is also more advanced and methodical than would be expected in a child of his age. again, the text uses this to emphasise how inextricable the child-voldemort is from his adult self - and also, to some extent, to underscore the intellectual brilliance [his magic is also more advanced than is normal for a child] which his narrative archetype [the exceptional villain who is defeated by the everyman hero] requires. but we can also read it as evidence of his own victimisation. a common sign that a child is being sexually abused is that they display a knowledge of sexual behaviour which is more advanced than is reasonable for a child of their age - for example, knowing in detail how a sex act is performed, or fluently using sexual slang which they have no chance of knowing either from age-appropriate settings like school-based sex education or conversations with a parent or trusted adult, or from the sort of enthusiastic hoarding of rude words and phrases all children enjoy as they grow up. riddle's precise, clinical knowledge of how to manipulate, frighten, torture, and control can be seen as something similar. if he can - at eleven or younger - methodically break down another child until they're "never quite right" again, then this is because he's learned how to from someone.
he keeps secrets. and he also goes out of his way to extract them. his grooming of ginny in chamber of secrets - he manipulates her into confiding things she wants to keep to herself, promises he won't tell anyone, and then uses the threat that he will to get her to do his bidding - is an absolutely textbook example of how abusers use the idea of secrecy to control their victims. it doesn't make his abuse of ginny any less inexcusable if we assume he learns this from being on the other side of things.
dumbledore understands his little cache of objects as trophies he's taken from victims - and the text takes the view that dumbledore is correct in this assessment. that hoarding trophies is something widely associated with serial killers means that this is yet another thing which underlines how creepy - and how like his adult self - the child-voldemort is. but it's also the case that the adult - and teenage - voldemort places a lot of emphasis on gift-giving as part of his control over other people. the two most obvious examples in canon are wormtail being given his shiny hand as a reward for helping voldemort get his body back, and slughorn being buttered up with crystallised pineapple before voldemort asks him about horcruxes. the text thinks this is sinister - and one of the reasons it does this is because gift-giving is a grooming tactic. the text also clearly thinks this isn't behaviour voldemort has learned from the other side. and yet a common sign that a child is being abused is if they have possessions it doesn't make sense for them to own [i.e. a child from a low-income background who is suddenly decked in designer clothes] and which they can't or won't explain how they came by. riddle's cache isn't luxurious - although he's so poor that a yoyo or a mouth organ probably is a luxury to him - but there's also nothing in canon which precludes the objects being presents, rather than stolen goods. if the spell dumbledore uses to make the box rattle is caused by a statement which is both relatively ambiguous and dependent on dumbledore's subjective personal morality - is there anything in this room he's acquired through nefarious means? - then the spell would still work as it does in canon if riddle was an abuse victim given the objects as "rewards". dumbledore's tendency to locate right and wrong in the individual and dumbledore's belief that good people should steadfastly endure misery means he can be written entirely canon-coherently as someone who would think a victim who appeared to collude in their own abuse - such as a victim who "offered" a sexual act because their abuser promised them something if they did - was behaving consensually, manipulatively, and nefariously. and it's worth noting that when riddle doesn't know what dumbledore has done to make the box rattle, he is "unnerved". when he realises dumbledore thinks he's stolen the objects - and that he has no interest in forcing him to admit this aloud - he is "unabashed". perhaps because he's just received proof that an experience he doesn't want to talk about is still secret...
on the other hand, the objects could indeed be stolen - because petty criminality and anti-social behaviour, especially in pre-teen children, is also a sign of abuse.
he can be extremely obsequious - when dumbledore tells him to watch how he speaks he becomes "unrecognisably polite", he ruthlessly flatters slughorn, and he is cringingly deferential to hepzibah smith. the text understands this as evidence that his apparent charm is only superficial - another trait associated in the popular imagination with serial killers [and it's striking that so much about the young voldemort - handsome, charming, seemingly quiet and polite, true evil lurking underneath the mask - is exactly like the pop-culture persona which has been created for ted bundy...]. voldemort himself agrees that his charm is performative in chamber of secrets: “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted." but his obsequiousness is also a fawn response - a way of minimising a threat by attempting to please the person issuing it. he becomes "unrecognisably polite" - after all - in response to this: Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts - ” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ”  Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?”  riddle could reasonably interpret what dumbledore says here as a threat to prevent him attending hogwarts - even though dumbledore evidently doesn't mean it in this way - and he switches to being fawning because this is something he really doesn't want to happen...
do i think that any of this is what the text was actually going for? no. and nor do i think that reading riddle as a victim of abuse excuses the violence which the adult voldemort goes on to perpetuate.
but i think it is a reading of his characterisation which is both canon-plausible and interesting - a strange, sickly child with a reputation for cruelty and dishonesty being abused by the respectable doctor who is constantly called in to treat his coughs and wheezes, who buys him little presents and charms him into telling him secrets, who then [to paraphrase the teenage voldemort] feeds him a few secrets of his own, safe in the knowledge that nobody will ever believe him if he tries to get help.
and i also think this a reading which is sincerely important.
a significant contributor to the prevalence of child abuse - no matter what exact form this abuse takes - is that we are culturally conditioned to imagine that both the abuser and the victim will look and behave in a certain way if the abuse is "real".
and this means, all too often, that we take child abuse more seriously when the victim is "sympathetic" - when they're from a stable home, and their family are respectable, and they do well in school, and they're polite and sweet, and they look innocent, and they behave perfectly appropriately for their age, and nobody would ever dare to say that they come across as older than they are, and they're white, and they don't have a history of lying, and they don't have a history of attention-seeking, and they don't have a criminal record, and they're not abusive themselves, and there's absolutely no way of suggesting that they colluded in their abuse, and the perpetrator was someone who looks like a child abuser.
someone who is creepy, low-status, ugly, unpopular. someone who everyone can tell is socially abnormal, someone who nobody would ever intentionally permit to be around their children. not someone who is charming, well-respected, attractive, rich, popular, trustworthy. not someone who has a loving family and a happy home. not someone we might be friends with.
but many perpetrators of child abuse are these second group of people. and many victims of child abuse are "unsympathetic", when their social positions and reputations are compared to their abusers' own.
they lie. they steal. they're attention-seeking. they're vindictive. they have trouble distinguishing between imagination and reality. they're violent. they're bullies. they hurt animals. they abuse other children. they take drugs. they're mentally-ill. they come from broken homes. they're in the care of the state. they're dirty. they're poor. they're odd. they're behind at school and badly-behaved in the classroom. they do things which allow their abuse to be dismissed as something they brought upon themselves - they speak or dress in certain ways, they pose provocatively in pictures and post them on the internet, they are known to be sexually active outside of the context of their abuse, they lie about being over the age of consent, they engage in sexual behaviour with an adult abuser in a way which appears [even though it isn't, and there's never a circumstance in which it will be] to be consensual or for their own personal gain, they are flattered by the attention they receive from someone who is important or attractive grooming them, they have complicated - and not always wholly negative - feelings towards their abusers.
and they are still - unequivocally - victims, and what happens to them is still - unequivocally - abuse.
tom riddle is an unsympathetic victim - not only of any potential abuse, but also of the horrors of his life which are explicit on the canon page: that he is raised in an orphanage; that he is grieving; that he knows nothing about his family; that he is thought to be mad.
the absence of any institutional response to his childhood experiences - dumbledore, by his own admission, discloses nothing about riddle to his fellow teachers - is a flaw repeated again and again in the worldbuilding of the harry potter series.
hogwarts - and the wizarding [and muggle] state more broadly - doesn't intervene in any case of neglect or abuse, from harry to snape to voldemort's own parents. the series' individualistic morality means that we aren't supposed to interrogate these collective failings. and the series' black-and-white view of good and evil - and its general belief that violence is fine if the person it happens to "deserves" it - means that it has no interest in examining the ways that poverty, isolation, and neglect are risk factors; that straightforwardly unpleasant people can still be victims; that victims can go on to become perpetrators without their victimhood ceasing to matter; and that the abuse of children usually takes place not in silence and secrecy, concealed in ways which make it fine for adults not to notice it and not to intervene, but in plain sight.
this is knowledge it never hurts to refresh. thinking about lord voldemort's childhood might be an usual way of doing so... but it is an effective one nonetheless...
581 notes · View notes
shivroy · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
through the ages
619 notes · View notes
sweet-shut-eye · 11 months ago
Text
This freak ..
Tumblr media Tumblr media
569 notes · View notes
rosecartridge · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Tom tag dump
1 note · View note
rcseteaparty · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
Thomas tag dump
5 notes · View notes
paxdracona · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
yes sorry i still suffer from bat!mav brainworms uwu
have some more (bat)Maverick a) staking his claim, scentmarking edition b) bat-mimicking edition and c) just plain annoying edition (rip, Mav ♥) Ice has no idea what he did to deserve this (wonderingly) and (grumpily)
151 notes · View notes
hellsquills · 2 months ago
Note
Hey, if you’re still doing SFTH gifs, may I suggest the “hahaha what a c***” from the Enemies Genre?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Me and the worstie <3 (x)
Bonus: Sam being speechless, Tom being embarrassed and Luke being lowkey proud
Tumblr media
Endless SFTH gifs [ 28 / ?? ]
149 notes · View notes
myokk · 2 months ago
Note
Hi! I'm still feral for these two, would you mind giving us some art of them in their later years together!?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Hello angel!!!!
Sorry it’s taken so long to respond🫶🫶 but I wanted to draw some new art for this ask💓
We have: Sebastian and Eloise trying out their new fancy camera with a selfie, pictures of them with their daughter, and finally…idk I just always felt like this drawing is when they’re a bit older💓
I want to take this ask as an opportunity as well to talk a little about how I imagine their future (I have no chill & you can ignore this and just enjoy the art if you want😇).
I am a COMPLETE pantser - I never know how a chapter’s going to end when I start writing it (I always just have a few scenes I know I need to include to keep the plot moving forward). Although I have different *big* scenes I’m always writing towards, and themes/plot elements I’m always foreshadowing (shout out to @elliecutte for catching *almost* all of my hints and appreciating my general no chill😆), IM STILL NOT 100% SURE HOW I WILL END THINGS !!! 😳 I have a lot of endings I see as possible, and I think soon it will become more clear to me what will work the best💓
HAPPY ENDING:
Eloise and Sebastian become Unspeakables. I have a LOT of thoughts on this profession that could be its OWN post, and I feel like Unspeakables are generally specialized in one or two departments, but as their interests/research change they also change.
Eloise becomes an Unspeakable in the Mind and Death departments, with the occasional foray into Time. Her ancient magic is connected with all of these things (my version of AM is NOT like the game) & the Department of Mysteries is one of the only places that gives her any useful information about these things. Plus she thinks too much (it IS her hobby after all😆💓) and is very introverted so a hermit job like this is a perfect fit.
Sebastian becomes an Unspeakable as well, but I feel like it takes him a long time to specialize in anything, if he ever does. I just feel like becoming an Unspeakable is the adult equivalent of sneaking into the Restricted Section🥹🫶
They grow old together (I won’t explain TOO much) & have a lovely little family🥹 at least one daughter that they both dote on. Sebastian had an amazing childhood (idyllic until it wasn’t), and wants to give his daughter the same, and Eloise works hard to make sure their daughter feels the love that she never had growing up🥺
When Sirius is burned off the family tree, Eloise and Sebastian take him in🥹🫶 (they’re like 100 years old but WIZARDS LIVE LONGER…) The same happened to her all those years ago, and she wants him to know that his whole family hasn’t abandoned him.
Eloise LOVED her nieces - Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa - when they were younger, but as Voldemort becomes more powerful & people realize WHAT he’s doing, she has to separate herself from them. Her heart breaks seeing Bellatrix go mad, and seeing Narcissa engaged to a Malfoy out of obligation😔 (iykyk)
I haven’t thought any more about happy ending but I think it’s fun to think about how their future story might weave in with the actual canon events, ESPECIALLY since Eloise is a Black🥹💓
SAD ENDING:
After Sebastian gets his hands on Slytherin’s relic, it really starts to consume him and makes him even MORE obsessive than his natural tendencies - I imagine it similarly “talking” to him like Slytherin’s locket/horcrux did in Deathly Hallows (😳)
Eloise is deathly afraid of the changes she’s seeing in Sebastian and steals it from him (he would never willingly give it to her ESPECIALLY if it starts to feel like a precious item to him)
BUT the relic triggers the latent Black Family Madness in her - the madness that afflicts almost every woman in her family since…🤭 - and she herself starts to lose touch with reality. Her body and soul are already destroying themselves between the curse and the ancient magic inside of her, and the relic is what triggers it in her.
Sebastian becomes an Unspeakable, focusing on the Mind, in a desperate attempt to find a cure for his Eloise🥺
He never gives up his research, and sometimes when he comes home she is lucid and they talk about his research - otherwise, he just loves and takes care of her.
(He’s never successful in finding a way to reverse what he feels he caused in the first place - his ambition and single-mindedness is, to him, the reason why all of this happened)
Honestly who knows if I end their story either of these ways😌 I just love thinking of AUs and different endings and I have a few others I’ve considered as well!!! And whatever endings I don’t write will be immortalized on this blog and in my art as well🙏
136 notes · View notes
semperamans · 6 months ago
Note
HEAR ME OUT: I just read the Jhonny smut and I writhed in happiness, IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME, on the other hand, something now circles my little head at that part "just like Benny taught ya" EHMM????? yeah, I need that.
I BEG YOU CLO
somethin’ of a prequel to this <3 hope u enjoy :’)
the sun’s goodbye is long n’drawn out as she traipses through the sky. she even stops at your place; peeking through the windows, spying on you and benny as you lounge atop your pretty flowery sheets. benny thinks you look like an angel; hair splayed over the pillow, eyes bright, smile soft, but then again an angel surely wouldn't ask what you just did. he goes quiet - too quiet - and now you’re embarrassed. you turn shy at his silence, capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tuggin’ your body into a sitting position, turning your chin toward the ground.
“jus’ wanna be good for ‘em.” you reason in a voice that is no louder than the wind whispering through the window screen n' just audible above the delicate whip of your white curtains. "will you teach me?"
an' there’s somethin' about the vulnerability in your voice that makes benny wanna get closer to you, so he does. you just look so cute, all slouched defeatedly beside him: eyes downcast, lashes fluttering to keep tears away, that he has no choice but to reach out: cuppin' your jaw in his calloused palms, makin' you look at him.
“pretty,” he breathes the nickname johnny calls you n’it feels good; all light and airy on his tongue. the adjective has you sitting up straighter - preening and proud and staring at him wide-eyed and mesmerized. benny doesn’t know how it's possible but his love for you grows; stretchin' over his face in a passive smile. “baby,” he clicks his tongue against his teeth, sucking in a breath. “i jus’ dunno if i can do what you’re askin’.” but he wants to. he really fuckin’ wants to. the mere thought makes him giddy and hard and it shouldn’t because, fuck, regardless of what has happened in the past, you are johnny's girl. n'yeah, sometimes benny doesn't know who he is more jealous of, but that's beside the point. he can't do this - shouldn't want to do this - because johnny isn't here and everything he's done with you has been supervised by the older man. those spit-soaked breathless declarations of love grunted into the plush of your lips was okay'd by johnny. the lingering touches n'drunken late-night cuddles were approved by johnny and surely this isn't what johnny meant when he had benny promise to help you when he was out truckin'. it feels wrong, but benny can't help but see it as an opportunity. what was that his momma was always rattling on about never lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth? maybe the real life equivalent is never turnin’ a pretty girl down when she asks you to teach her to give a fuckin’ handjob.
“jus' wanna watch, s'all." your voice is garbled; shame clogging your windpipe as you shake your head, nuzzling into benny's palm, pressing a kiss to his heartline. "jus' let me watch." those big wet eyes soften as he scrapes his thumb along your bottom lip, collecting spit and chapstick on his journey n'he'd love nothing more than to pop the digit in his mouth just to get a taste of you, but he can't. he shouldn't, but then you're movin' closer, naked knees kissin' his, chiffon nightgown riding up your thigh and he knows he's fucked. "johnny'd be okay with it. loves you, y'know? n'plus, you know 'em better than anyone. you'll know what he likes.. what to show me." you're right - of course - benny does know exactly what johnny likes, and, shit - the old man's birthday is comin' up. if benny can teach ya the proper way to jerk a cock then that'd be somethin' of a gift, right? johnny's own gift horse.
he's also never told you no n'doesn't plan on starting now.
“alright,” he concedes. “i’ll help ya.”
your tears have dried, but your nose is still red n'benny can't help but smile at the way excitement practically drips off you as you watch him. you're sitting on your feet at the foot of the bed, hands folded nicely in your lap, waiting oh so patiently.
"what's got you obsessin' over this?" he asks, situating your fluffy pillow behind his head. he's trying to act like he's calm and cool n'not at all like he's about to cum in his fuckin' pants at the mere thought of jerking himself off with you less than three feet away. a soft smile plays your lips, shoulder kissing the underside of your jaw in a shrug.
"jus' feel like i need to get better at it," you have that breathless lilt in your voice - the one benny fuckin' adores - and he's already so hard it hurts. he's already so hard he's embarrassed, but you're such a respectful girl n'your eyes never wander past his neck - not yet anyway. "n'you're so good to me, benny. so good. figured you'd be the best person to ask." his cock twitches at your words, hips jumping at the soft tug of skin on cotton, n'he's ready. knows he won't last if you keep lookin' at him with those bitten-red lips so he goes for it.
"alright," he says. this is fine. "m'gonna - i guess - just - you know."
"touch yourself?" you ask, head cocked to the right like a goddamn puppy and he has to bite back a moan. you're too cute to be sayin' things like that - voice too soft, so sweet.
"yeah," benny nods, swallowing hard. "jus' gonna touch m'self. n'you can watch." he looses a breath, tells himself to calm the fuck down, and centers his attention. "johnny's always liked when ya - you know - press on 'em through his jeans." n'so benny does just that, palm now delivering delicious friction on his cotton covered dick. "never wanna do it too hard, just - fuck - just a little bit of pressure." you hum in acknowledgment, leaning forward just a bit. such a good listener. "s'jus' somethin' you do to get 'em goin' - warm 'em up." but benny is more than warmed up - his engine is fucking overheating - so he quickly moves on, poppin' the button with his thumb and index finger expertly. he slips his ringed hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, grunting at the dull tug of his rough hand against his smooth shaft.
"s'okay?" your voice is so sweet n' sugary that benny wants to sink his teeth into it.
"s'too dry. gotta make sure y've got some kinda lubrication. y'know? makes it nice and slick." like you benny wants to say, but doesn't. he withdrawals his hand, spits into it, and pushes the sloppy mess back into his shorts. "wanna - mm - wanna make sure it's nice and wet, yeah? could hurt 'em if you don't have enough spit on there."
"okay," you repeat, nodding. then, "can - benny can you - maybe, take 'em off? please? jus' so i can see?"
"can you take 'em off for me?" no no no he shouldn't have said that - should'a just stayed quiet - but you're undeterred. sweet face bright, head nodding fervently as benny retracts his hand and lets you delicately tug the fabric down down down until his cock is springing upward, smacking wetly against his stomach.
"wow," you murmur "s'pretty," those eyes peer up at him shyly, n'he has to look away because it's too much. he can't teach you how to jerk anyone off if he cums in the first two minutes. he's gotta get it together, but it's hard. your eyes meet once again, your smile grows when he thanks you n'pinches the round of your cheek.
"will you keep going? keep teachin' me?" you make no move to return to the corner of the bed, instead, you stay right where you are, knee wedged into the outer meat of benny's thigh. he certainly can't stop now.
"yeah, pretty. yeah. okay." his cock is so reactive to the cool air wooshing in through the window, so reactive to the sweet girl staring at it, that it weeps. precum oozes from the tip; seeps into the gentle divot of his belly button and over his knuckles. it's hard to hold back, but he does because he's good to you n'good to johnny. which reminds him, "whenever you grab 'em, don't wanna do it too tight. don't be squeezin' too hard, not at first, 'kay?"
"m'kay benny."
"just wanna - do it - like this." he demonstrates, curling his fingers 'round the base, stroking up gently. "n'johnny likes when ya twist your wrist, just - god - like this." the spit and precum make his cock glisten - make the stroke from base to tip that much more pleasurable - and you look starstruck; mouth hanging open, pupils following up and down and up and down and -
"benny can i try?"
he moans - too loud - too obscene for the quiet of your room. the mere thought of you watchin' is enough to make him bust, let alone you putting your hands on him. he lets out a shaky breath, and starts to tell you how that is not a good idea, how you shouldn't, how he doesn't want to coat your freshly painted nails in cum, but he doesn't. he doesn't say anything - just nods his head.
you wiggle closer, scoochin' between his thighs and he's not going to make it. he knows he simply will not make it out of this room alive with the way you're leanin' over him - inspecting his cock like you've never seen one when he knows you have. and then - jesus christ - you're holding up your hand, spitting into it the way he taught you and circling your fingers just above the mass of curls near his balls.
"oh fuck."
"m'sorry." you squeak, instantly letting go, but benny is thrashing his head to the side. grunt tearing from his throat.
"no, baby, god, s'okay. doin' good. g'head. do it again. move your hands, little faster."
and you do and it's so good - so talented you are. grip not too tight, just right. your little fingers are coated in his precum and your combined spit and he almost forgets why you're doin' this - for johnny - so you can learn for johnny.
"flick your wrist right - yeah yeah - right there each time, baby. fuck. s'good. johnny's g'nna be so proud of you. g'nna do so good for him. make 'em feel so special n'good." benny s'never much of a talker but he'd fucking write sonnets if it meant you'd keep your fist wrapped around him. you're pullin' noises out of him that you never knew he could make n'so you just have to ask
"s'this what johnny sounded like when you learned on 'em?" and benny almost chokes on your words, but they only seem to spur him on; warmth coils in his belly, brushes against his balls, and settles deep in his cock.
"god, yeah." he remembers so clearly it fuckin' brings tears to his eyes. "b-but i think y'gonna be better than me, darlin'. got such a - jesus - good grip. look so pretty tuggin' my cock." benny's golden halo of curls spreads across the pillow as he tips his head, relishing in the repetitive schlick of skin on skin. you're makin' these cute little preens he's only ever heard through the wall when you’re with johnny and fuck fuck fuck it's coming. he knows it's coming, can feel his balls drawing up, feel his breath quickening, warmth spreadin' through his every artery.
"gonna cum, baby. fuck. gotta show you - oh fuck - whenever i tell ya, need ya to put your mouth on it? 'kay? no teeth, keep strokin', yeah? be a good girl. do it for me? for johnny?"
"yeah," you murmur. "yeah. okay, benny" you keep your grip firm as he fucks into your fist. he's desperate. you never thought you'd use the word to describe benny but he's so desperate making all of these pretty sounds as his legs twitch and shake; as he calls you beautiful and pretty and perfect.
"fuck, now. now. now."
you're great at following the rules - johnny always tells ya - so you bend, wrapping your lips around benny's tip, allowing him to fuck into your fist and mouth as he paints your tongue with his seed. it's dirty and euphoric and everything. you are everything to benny. everything as his world is diminished to nothing and he’s born again.
"c-c'mere." he pants, after a few moments. he doesn’t wait for you to act on your own; strong hands grab your forearms, pulling you up, pressin' you against his mouth. he can taste himself on your lips, sweet and salty and he can't stop. he licks and licks and licks until any trace of him is gone, until he thinks he can taste johnny. until he can't breathe. "s'a good job, baby.” he shudders. “johnny's gonna be so happy."
and he is.
it's many days and handjobs later when johnny finally stumbles into the darkened house, stopping to catch you as you fling yourself on him. n'god, it's good to be home. good to feel his sweet girl so warm in his arms. his scruff scratches your neck as he breathes you in, n'he can smell it. smell him. benny.
"you were right," you breathe, smiling wide. "benny taught me."
"n'how'd it go?"
"let me show you."
239 notes · View notes