#but it's been a month and he keeps pushing me away

[little-diable]

Pleasure - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Just a small Drabble about our fave fucked up, dark professor. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Riddle threatens to fail the reader, something she won’t accept. Just pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, degrading, orgasm denial, Tom being Tom, power imbalance

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (1.2k words)

“You threaten to fail me? Are you out of your mind?” Her voice boomed through the class room, eyes set on the professor whose assistant she had been for the past months now. His piercing eyes didn’t meet hers, he kept his gaze set on the papers, correcting the homework she had collected minutes ago. All before he had dropped this bomb on her, telling (y/n) that she was about to fail his class. “Look at me!”

“Careful, (y/n).” His eyes snapped up to meet hers, voice sharper than a knife. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest while staring at her like a snake about to snap at its prey. He had always been a dangerous man, a man whose aura was a warning itself, set on pulling her into his dark trap. But today he had something else to him, something even more ruthless.

“Tell me why!” She was fuming, set on letting go of a piercing scream. This must be a joke, a prank he was pulling on her - her grades were better than most, she was always on time, and when she was working for him, she did everything he asked of her.

“I don’t owe you any explanations. And your behaviour proves to me that you’re not mature enough to work on it. Leave.” (Y/n) didn’t move, she kept staring at Professor Riddle who slowly rose to his feet. A part of her screamed at her to leave, to run before it was too late, but the more stubborn part forced her to stand still and watch his every move. “Is this how you want to play? This is my last warning, (y/n).”

Her body was trembling in anger and need, all while her mind brought back flashes of a similar moment that had happened weeks ago. Back then she had left this room with trembling thighs and his handprint burned into her behind. The following hours had been spent hidden away in her room while pushing herself over the edge numerous times with his name burning on the tip of her tongue.

“I am not scared of you.” She cocked her head, chin pointed in his direction while she looked up at him. It was a foolish game she was playing - a game she was about to lose, but she didn’t care, couldn’t worry about any wins or losses, knowing that whatever would happen between them would count as a win in her book.

“You should be.” His ringed hand found her throat, tugging (y/n) in for a teeth clashing kiss. She moaned into the touch, unable to stop her hands from wandering, from finding the back of his neck to keep him close. (Y/n) felt her surroundings spin, throwing her into another dimension while the professor moved her backwards to heave his TA onto his table. With her legs wrapped around his waist, (y/n) kept him close, not daring to think of parting just yet. “You try to distract me with those pretty little things you wear, you try to make a fool out of me, but you’ll never have this much power over me. You’re mine, (y/n), I’m the one guiding you.”

She could only moan in delight, feeling his hand disappear beneath her skirt to press his fingertips against her clothed heat. Slowly, he began to circle her bundle through the fabric of her panties, feeling them grow damp beneath his touch. A soft chuckle let him, buzzing through both their bodies while his lips moved down her throat, sucking on the spots that drew moans from her.

“You’ve been asking for it for months, so now you’ll take my cock like the desperate slut you are. But I won’t let you cum, not this afternoon.” His words drew a protesting moan from (y/n), eyes wide while she stared at him. No words managed to pass her parted lips, unsure how to speak up as the sounds reaching her distracted (y/n).

Within seconds he had freed his cock, pushing a condom down his length before her panties were tugged aside. Her fingernails left crescent marks on the spot where his shoulder met his neck as he pushed into her, forcing her tight walls to adjust to him. A part of her wanted to beg him to slow down, to give her some moments to relax before taking all of him, but that part didn’t get a chance to speak up, silenced by her loud moans.

Professor Riddle fucked her ruthlessly, he was using her body, set on chasing his own high while sticking to his promise. Tonight he wouldn’t let her cum, at least not for a few hours before finding his way to her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto the back of his hand which was still holding her throat. She was torn between focusing on the way he perfectly stretched her, about to push her over the edge, and the way he held onto her all too possessively, leaving her heart jumping in excitement.

“This is why I need to keep you around, love.” The nickname had a condescending touch to it, leaving her gasping while she tried to focus on his words. “You’re all for me to use, all for my own pleasure.”

(Y/n) nodded her head while another gasp left her, head wanting to roll back - though without any luck as he kept holding onto her. She felt his cock tearing her apart with every thrust, drunk on the feeling of him fucking her this posessively. With moans ripping their way through her, she clawed at his skin, giving into the subconscious need to mark him up to have the same claim on him.

“What would you ever do without me, huh? You’re so needy, such a pathetic little girl.” She was close to letting go, high on the low tones of his raspy voice, on the way he spoke to her with spite and adoration dripping from his tongue. With one hand still clinging to him, she let the other find her pulsing bundle, circling it a few times to give herself the needed push. Something he instantly stopped her from doing after a second or two.

“I told you I won’t let you cum for now. I don’t make empty threats, love.” More tears fell from her eyes as she stared up at Professor Riddle. Her walls clenched his cock, hoping to pull him into her trap - something he didn’t seem to care for as he pulled out of her to cum on her thighs.

“You’ll wait for me tonight, and perhaps if you’re good, I’ll let you cum.”

[musings-of-a-rose]

Camping Trip

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader (nickname Autumn)

Word Count: 3400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Listen. I don’t know. I just saw the picture in the upper right of my moodboard and came up with this. Ok fine I wrote the first 3 paragraphs in May and the rest now. Will and I are complicated, ok? Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for reading and listening to my ramblings as always!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Will Miller Masterlist

It had been a rough few months, no doubt about that. Somehow, I survived. Made it to the solo camping trip I had been thinking about for months. It's nothing I haven't done before. Even the trails and campsite are familiar. Still, it had been a few years and I was itching to get away from the city and all the noises it pounds into my head.

I head down the backroads, the pine trees growing thicker the further out I get from the city. At first I pass a lot of cars, mostly traveling into the city. But after a while, when the trees are so tall I can't see over them, so thick I can barely see through them, I'm the only car on the road.

I see the sign for the campsite and turn, heading down the dirt path to the small parking lot about a half mile in from the road. There are a couple of other jeeps and trucks here, one of them belonging to the park ranger who sits inside the small welcome center/general store. I head inside to use the bathroom, the last little "luxury" I give myself before spending a week away from everyone.

"Hi mis- Autumn! Haven't seen you for what...3 years?"

I smile at the man behind the counter, giving him a little wave. "Hey Jay! You're still working here? I thought you'd have retired by now." I grab a couple of bags of the beef jerky they have on sale. It's made by a local farmer and I can only get it here.

Jay chuckles. "Next year. Maybe."

"Don't push yourself too hard, Jay."

"Oh! Mary had her baby! Course she's 3 now."

"Oh really? Damn, 3 already?”

Jay looks at me pointedly. “Well that’s what you get for taking so long to come back and visit.”

Before I can answer, the bell on the entrance door jingles out and Jay glances over my shoulder. “Afternoon, sir! Can I help you with anything?”

“Just a trail map, thanks.” His voice is a little raspy, like he hadn’t used it for a while. I turn to point to the map stand but am momentarily frozen. 

This man is gorgeous.

Tall, short blonde hair, slightly longer up top. Military or ex military judging by the cut and the way he holds himself. But his eyes meet mine, slate blue and what was I saying? 

Jay pinches my arm. “Show him the maps, Autumn.”

I force a small chuckle to Jay, quickly pulling my arm from his pinching fingers and walk towards the blonde man and am hit with the scent of pine, leather, and old spice. Normally I would not be into the latter on a man but the way it mixes with his natural scent is going straight to my head. And other places.

“Here,” I somehow manage to walk past him and grab a map from the spinning holder, turning to hand it to him. The man takes it, his eyes twinkling before he gives me a quick wink.

“Thanks, darlin’.” His eyes quickly flick down my body, or maybe I’m imagining it? 

“You check the weather before coming, sir?”

His eyes are on mine still for another moment before he turns to address Jay. “Yeah I did. This isn’t my first time camping.”

Jay nods. “Military?”

The man chuckles. “Vet. Am I that obvious?”

Jay shrugs. “Not exactly. I just know people. Well, as long as you know what you’re in for. Shouldn’t be too bad but just make sure to stay warm. Not sure how long you’ll be here but if ever a blizzard alert comes up, you come right back here, ok? There’s a small cabin out back that’s open to campers 24/7.”

“Thanks.” The man takes his map, declining Jay’s offer of a bag. He glances back over at me. “See you later, darlin’.”

Fuck. Me. “See you!”

It takes me the usual couple of days to make it to my favorite spot, but I breathe a sigh of relief when I break through the trees, the breathtaking view of the mountains and lake spread out before me. It feels like coming home. 

I get to work setting up my camp, fire and tent good to go, my food hanging from a bag in a tree. I managed to find a place with a good fallen log, perfect for sitting on or against and close enough to the fire so I can keep warm. The wind blows through the nettles of the tall pines around me, the cool, misty breeze coating the exposed skin on my face. I take a deep breath in and out. I really missed being here. 

I do turn on my high powered radio to listen to the weather report twice a day, making sure nothing unexpected is coming. There’s something the weathermen are looking at, but they don’t think it’ll be anything. Still, the temps are sure to drop in a couple of days and there may be a bit of snow. I’m prepared for it, but it’s still good to know. 

A couple days later, I’m about a half mile from camp, walking along the trail near the lake. So far, I’ve seen a couple of deer and a ton of birds. I’m stopped, leaning against a tree trunk to take a quick break when I hear the sound of footsteps on the path ahead. I know I’m not the only one camping, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t instantly on alert. Another couple of seconds of hearing the sound and I know it’s human. From around the curve of the path emerges the man from Jay’s, his pack full and looking heavy. He sounds a little winded and had obviously been walking for a bit. I straighten myself and wave to him.

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here!”

The man glances at me and smiles, the same one from the shop. “Hey…Autumn?”

I nod. I tell him my real name. “But Jay’s been calling me Autumn since I first came to this trail.”

“Let me guess. It was during Autumn?”

I chuckle. “Jay is original.”

He comes closer, but stops several feet away, breathing heavier. “I’m Will.”

“Nice to meet you, Will.”

He nods to me. “Same.”

He still doesn’t move. “I don’t bite, you know.”

He cocks his head, confused, but then seems to piece it together. “Oh. Well, I didn’t want to freak you out by invading your space.”

I’m fairly positive if this man wanted to take me down, he could’ve done that, several feet away with a pack on or no. “Thank you. That’s…unexpected. And kind.”

“Don’t other people do that?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Oh. Well they should.”

I shrug. “Maybe….but Will, you can come closer. It’s alright.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You sure?”

“Yeah, why?”

He remains rooted to the spot. “You don’t think I’ll take advantage of you?”

I snort. “I’m fairly positive you could’ve done that already, Mr. Military. Don’t threaten me with a good time.” What the fuck did I just say?

I swear I see the tips of his ears turn pink as he chuckles, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. “A good time it would be.”

He comes closer and I gesture towards my bag which is resting against a log. He takes his own off and sets it beside mine, shrugging and stretching his shoulders a bit. “I really should’ve taken a break before now. Gettin’ old sucks.”

I chuckle, my eyes roaming down his arms, the flannel on his shirt hugging his biceps in all the right ways. 

“You look in great shape to me.” 

His eyes meet mine and we stare at each other for several moments before I blink, shaking my head a little to rid myself of the not at all PG thoughts I was having.

“So…are you trying to make it back to that cabin before the weather moves in?”

Will clears his throat, giving his own head a little shake before crossing his arms across his broad chest. “That was the plan.”

“Have you listened to the weather station today?”

He furrows his brows and I melt. “No, why?”

“The uh..storm? Is moving a little faster than they thought. No way you’ll make it back to Jay’s cabin before it starts to pick up.”

“Shit.” Will sighs, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I really thought I’d be able to make it but my leg was acting up.” 

I can tell he’s not used to this, needing breaks. He seems like the kind of guy that just pushes through the pain. Until it pushes back.

“Come on. You can stay with me.” I push back from the tree and lean down to get my pack, swinging it up on my back. When I look back up at Will, he’s staring at me, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Did you just invite me to your camp?”

I adjust the straps on my shoulders. “Yeah. Let’s get going so that way we aren’t stuck.”

“You trust me?”

I click the last strap into place across my chest before I look at him. “I thought we established that I do.”

He studies me for a long moment, his eyes moving between mine and I swear he glances down at my lips. “You sure you have the space?”

I shrug. “May be a little bit of a squeeze but temps are dropping anyway. We can always find a way to get warm.” What did I just say?

A small smirk spreads across his beautiful face. “I’m sure we can, darlin’.” He leans down and grabs his own pack, situating it on his back before he gestures to me. “Lead the way.”

Talking to Will is easy, comforting almost. He tells me about his time in the army, Delta Force, and his brothers, including his real life brother Benny. A golden retriever of a man if I ever heard of one. He asks me questions about my life and listens intently, actually interested in what I have to say. Before I know it, we’re back at my camp. Will stops for a moment, staring out over the lake at the mountain behind it and whistles. “You found a hell of a view.”

“Thanks. It took me a couple years to find but now it’s like home.”

Will helps me start a fire and get food cooking, laughter and conversation flows just as easily as before and I find myself gravitating towards him, physically. But he also seems to be scooting closer and closer until our legs are nearly touching. Snowflakes start to fall, coming in faster and thicker.

“We should probably get the sleeping bags set up before it gets hard to see,” Will suggests, his breath puffing out in tendrils in front of him. 

“Good idea.”

Will gets the outside of our little camp ready as the sun starts to dip and night comes. We manage to get in the tent before the snow really starts to come down. It’s a little bigger than a one room tent, but we’re still pretty snug in here now that there’s two of us. And he’s so fucking broad. I shift my sleeping bag over a bit more and Will slides his down next to mine. He looks between our bags and then up at me, his eyebrows pulled together in slight concern.

“What is it?” I ask nervously.

“It’s…nevermind.”

I punch his arm and have to choke back a scream at how firm it is. “Just tell me.”

He chuckles while he dramatically rubs his arm. “Ouch,” he smirks as I roll my eyes. “But we should zip our bags together. For warmth. It’s about to get pretty cold.”

“William Miller. Are you asking to get in my sleeping bag with me?”

He shifts nervously, his ear tips turning red. “No! I uh, that’s not… I mean, it’s basic survival. I didn’t mean.. I don’t want you to think-”

I laugh then, cutting him off. “Chill out, Will. I know how you meant it. You’re a nice guy. I just like watching you blush.”

He rubs at his face. “You’re dangerous.”

“How dare you, good sir. I am a lady.”

He snorts and I swear under his breath he says “I bet you are.”

We get the bags zipped together and slide down in them, trying to leave as much space as we could between us. After several minutes of us shuffling around awkwardly, Will chuckles.

“You wanna be the big spoon or the little one?”

My laughter rings out in the tent joining his, tears streaming down my face at this brilliant tension breaker. “I’ll be little,” I choke out. I turn around, facing my back towards him. I feel him scoot closer and heat instantly rushes through my body, pooling between my thighs. Can he hear how my heart is about to beat from my chest?

“Is this ok?” Will’s breath fans out over my neck, goosebumps erupting in it’s wake. 

“Uh..I uh…y-yeah. All good. Is it uh, close enough? For survival, I mean.”

Will clears his throat. “Uh, well I mean. We should probably be, uh, closer. To stay warm. For survival, of course.”

“Well if it’s for survival, scoot as close as you want.”

He makes a choking sound but shifts closer, his body molding to mine. I can feel his hand hovering, unsure of where to place it. I reach back and take it, gently placing it on my hip, trying to ignore the heat that immediately ignites, flowing down between my legs. The wind blows outside, the tent rustling with it. I shift my hips a little and Will’s grip on my hip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin. And I can feel something else pressing against my ass and I swallow hard.

“You’re going to have to stop moving around, darlin’. Please.” He chokes out the last word, sounding restrained. 

I take a deep breath. “What if I don’t want to?”

His grip tightens even more and I know I’ll bruise if he keeps it up. And I don’t care if I do. 

“I’m trying really hard to be respectful, Autumn.”

I glance over my shoulder at him. “Don’t be respectful then.”

A quiet growl emanates from him. “What are you saying?”

I make sure I have his gaze. “Be disrespectful. If it’s permission you want, you have it.” 

He watches me for a long moment before I feel him shift, his arm that’s not gripping my hip sliding under my neck. He twists his wrist, sliding it down to unbutton my shirt, his hand finding it’s way down my shirt and under my bra, gently swiping his fingers over my nipple. But at the same time, his other hand slowly moves from my hip, pulling my leg up and over his own, his hand gently teasing my skin as he pushes it under my pantline and between my legs, another groan when he feels how wet I am. I gasp as he nips at my shoulder. 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, Autumn.”

I try to respond, but instead a moan escapes me as his fingers start to play with me, gentle circles with alternating pressure as all my blood rushes between my legs, that fire igniting rather quickly. 

“Will, I’m gonna…” I’m not entirely sure what I say as I come, my leg twitching as my body soars, pleasure radiating out from between my thighs, spreading throughout me.

“Feeling warm?” Will speaks deeply in my ear, nibbling a little on my ear lobe.

I nod, my head flying already. “You didn’t even take my clothes off.”

He chuckles against my neck. “I told you I was respectful.”

Surprising even myself, I reach behind me and grab him over his pants. He grunts but pushes against my hand, no doubt relieving some of the pressure. I turn my head towards him, my lips barely brushing his. “Please, Will.”

His eyes are like a storm at sea, blue and wild, darkening. “Tell me.”

I take his hand and push it between my legs where I was growing wetter by the second as I push my hips back, grinding on him. He grunts in my ear. “You gotta stop doing that or I won’t be able to hold myself.”

My hand, still over his, pushes his fingers towards my entrance, his thick fingers circling me, heat and anticipation swirling around me. “D-don’t hold yourself back. Fuck me, Will. Please,” I’m not above begging at this point, his finger continuing to edge me along. But then he’s pulling his hand out of my pants, trying to sit up but struggling because we’re in a sleeping bag. 

“Take off your clothes before I rip them off.”

That command went straight through me, my fingers moving quickly to take off all my clothes, tossing them out of the sleeping bag. Will does the same on his own, starting his own neater pile outside of the sleeping bag. I lay back down, assuming he’ll want the same position. His fingers skim across my side, watching the goosebumps pimple up. But then he pushes my hip down, turning me on my back as he slides over my body, my legs opening as wide as I can to give him space. He’s heavy, fuck he’s so much bigger than I thought as he presses against my clit, hot and pulsing. His eyes find mine, a dark twinkle in them as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. I part them and he slides his tongue inside, the kiss quickly heating up as he starts to move his hips. He slides himself over me, back and forth across my clit, swallowing my moans. My fingers dig at his back, silently begging him for more. The pressure is so intense, so much, that if he doesn’t fuck me now, I may just pop. Or go insane. 

Then Will gently takes my wrists, pinning them on either side of my head. His hips shift and with a confident stride, he pushes into me, my head pressing back into the pillow as I feel the pleasant burn, my body stretching to accept him, all of him. He pulls his hips back and pushes in, this time with a little more force and I feel a jolt through my body as he hits some spot at the back of me. I whine as Will continues to fuck me, slowly but forcefully, heat coursing through me. And then, I snap, crying out his name as I squeeze around him, my entire body lighting up and carrying me away from myself, my release made more intense by being pinned under him, unable to move away from the intense pleasure. 

Will’s breaths are heavy, panting out with restraint, like he’s holding himself back. He kisses me again, hard, nipping at my bottom lip before pulling back and out, but before I have a chance to feel too empty, he somehow flips me on my belly, my boobs pressing into the sleeping bag as he arcs my hips up just enough for him to slide in easily, my body greedily taking him in. He lays on top of me, his arms over mine as he laces his fingers with my hands. The weight of him both on and in me sends heat right back between my legs. He bites at my neck and shoulder as he fucks into me, deeper and harder with every thrust until I’m coming again, screaming his name into my pillow as I feel his hips sputter, Will whining in my ear as he spills inside of me. His body slumps against mine, both of us trying to catch our breath. Eventually, he slides off of me and to my side, turning me and pulling me to his chest. He nuzzles in my hair, wrapping his arms around me again, one massive hand holding a boob.

“Warm enough?” Will whispers in my ear.

“Mmm..” I respond. “You didn’t tell me you could fuck, Will.”

He chuckles and kisses my neck. “I’m restricted by this sleeping bag, darlin’. I did the best I could.”

The whine that escapes me is loud. “I’d love to see that.”

“Well when I’m done with you after this camping trip darlin’, you’re going to need some time to recover. And then I plan on showing you exactly how my fucking is.”

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[vveirdvvitch]

Look! I wrote a dirty little piece of fanfiction featuring Edward Nashton!

Edward Nashton X Fem!Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut, fluff, porn with very little plot

Summary: Eddie does you a favor

Heaven Tonight

Edward trudges up the stairs to his apartment. It had been another torturous day at the office and he was looking forward to getting back to his real work. Cleansing the city would finally give him the satisfaction he had been seeking. Nothing would keep him from obtaining his goal to purge the rotten decay at the heart of Gotham.

He rounded the landing and began the climb up the last flight when a curious sight made him forget briefly about his plans for the evening. There you sat on the filthy hallway flooring in front of your apartment door which was across the hall from his own. He pauses at his door and watches as you tap away on your phone.

And then it happens. It had happened before and each time was a special gift Edward treasured. You lift your head up and smile at him.

The first time had been approximately 8 and a half months ago when you first moved in. He had been coming home from work and nearly ran into you when you headed down for more boxes.

“Whoops! Hey sorry neighbor!”, and that 1000 watt smile had him forgiving you instantly.

He didn’t mind accidentally receiving your mail. Now he knew your name. Now you would greet him with a warm smile and say, “Thanks Ed! I don’t know why the dang mailman keeps doing this.”

“Hey Edward!” Why you were always so friendly was beyond him. He turned it over and over in his mind. Was it a trick? Were you stupid? Were you perhaps the only genuinely kind person in all of Gotham?

Ed gave you a timid tight-lipped smile, “hey, what are you doing down there?”

“Oh you know, trying to get a hold of my sister who is far too busy with her new girlfriend to care about what I’m doing, as well as our good for nothing landlord.” You paused and gave him a quizzical look, “Well, I don’t know our landlord's dating status just that he can’t be bothered to answer.”

It was Edward’s turn now to look puzzled. You pointed behind yourself towards the door, “Key broke off. I can’t get in.”

He nodded and gently huffed, “Ah!”

“So I’m down here until someone either responds or I get desperate enough to call some weirdo who decided to become a locksmith.”

The wheels of his mind clicked into motion. He could probably solve this for you with his pliers and his lock picks, but he couldn’t be sure if you would react negatively or positively. Who has a set of lock picks at the ready? Definitely a creep.

He didn’t want to freak you out and he couldn’t let you sit here in the hallway by yourself. There was no telling what kind of degenerates occupied this building. He looked to his door, key in hand.

“Um,” Edward swallowed thickly, “you could wait inside with me.”

The lock clicked and the knob turned. The wheels spun up again. Dread fell upon his shoulders like a sodden cloak. He couldn’t let you inside! One step and you would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was, in fact, a creep. A psycho. Ed-weird. His heart pounded in his chest. Sweat threatened to cover his whole body in a clammy sheen as every conceivable bad ending raced through his mind. You screaming in horror as you ran from him; You slapping him hard across the face in revulsion; You shrieking at him with unbridled rage, “let me out of here you psychopath!”

No, surely you would politely decline with another of your sweet candy smiles. Then he could suggest waiting at the diner on the corner while he took the time to vet locksmiths.

Just as he was pulling the door back towards himself you were up on your feet and pushing past him with a cheerful grin.

“Thanks Ed! I think my butt was falling…” you trail off as you truly begin to take in your surroundings. Newspaper clippings covered in large, red letters and threatening phrases paper most of the walls. Piles of ledgers, various tools, and unrecognizable contraptions litter every available surface. It all feels so surreal as you turn slowly looking for anything to give you an answer. This must be a dream. And if it is a dream, then you can do whatever you want to do.

Your gaze lands back on Edward. Still standing in the doorway looking like he might vomit or pass out. From his sudden pallor you guessed both. Your eyes make contact with each other. His big, murky green eyes full of panic pull at your heartstrings. A dream you tell yourself again.

Without too much thought, you let the words tumble out of your mouth. “Can you do me a favor Eddie?”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion but he nods.

“If you’re gonna kill me, could you at least fuck me first?”

Panic bubbles in his chest as he chokes out a strangled, “What?”

“Well,” you glance about the room again, “this is kind of a textbook serial killer apartment,” your eyes connect once again with his, “And I am the kind of dumb girl who will follow a cute guy anywhere.”

Edward’s heart stops. The wheels of his mind screech to a halt. Cute. You think he’s cute. This was not a scenario he had considered.

His face softens as he finally closes the door behind him. You find the both of you slowly crossing the room towards each other. As if your feet have no intention. They follow some magnetic drum. Prisoners of their destination.

Until the two of you stand mere inches apart. Head tilted back to look him in the eye. Heart pounding your gaze darts between his eyes and lips. The pink tip of his tongue protrudes ever so slightly to wet those lips. Before you can think too much about it you push yourself up on your toes and smash your mouth inelegantly against his. The force pushes a small squeak from your throat.

The sound snaps Edward from his tether. His arms crush you to his chest, hands pawing at your back. His form is soft yet solid against you and his fervor elicits a soft moan from your now parted lips. He takes this as your sign to deepen the kiss and his tongue begins a passionate exploration of your mouth. His hunger and inexperience make his kisses feral.

Teeth click together. Tongues clash and lick. Saliva runs freely. Drool accumulates at the corners of your mouths. Edward walks forward pushing you back towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss. His apartment is small like yours and it isn’t long before you feel the mattress hit the backs of your calves. You fall backwards onto the mattress and stare up at him.

Edward allows himself a moment to take it all in. He feels compelled to burn the image into his memory. You splayed on his bed, eyes glassy, lips parted and panting. The spitting image of delicious prey.

Carefully, as though he is trying not to spook you, he climbs onto the bed and crawls up your body. His breath is warm on your face as he leans down once again to capture your lips with his own; However the new angle causes his glasses to slide down his nose and hit you in the face.

Any tension you may have had dissolves at his soft giggles. “Sorry,” He says as he folds his glasses carefully and places them on the nightstand.

His reach pulls up the fabric of his shirt just enough to reveal the smallest sliver of his tummy. You take the opportunity to snake your hand through the gap to feel the softness for yourself.

Edward tenses, almost pulling away. Your free hand goes to the back of his head. Threading your fingers through his soft downy hair, you guide him back down for another kiss. This time his lips are hesitant. The hand still under his shirt glides over his side to his back. You dance your fingertips over the smooth skin and knobs of his spine.

His eyes flutter closed. A slow whine pushes out of his nose as his body and lips melt back against yours. It isn’t long before you feel his fingers pull at the hem of your top, so you adjust yourself enough to pull the garment up and over your head, tossed to the side. Goosebumps form on your arms and chest as Edward gapes open-mouthed at you in your modest cotton bra.

“Your turn,” you almost whisper.

Edward takes a deep breath, steeling himself against his self-consciousness. He unbuttons his shirt just enough that he can pull it and the t-shirt underneath up and over his head. While he is distracted with his task you reach behind yourself, easily unclasping your undergarment. You add it to the growing heap of discarded clothes at the same time as Edward’s shirts. A sound like the combination of a groan and a whine squeezes from his throat. The cool air causes your sensitive peaks to tighten.

The sight sends Edward into a ravenous frenzy once again. His nose crashes into the flat of your sternum and his hands crawl up to the fleshy mounds now on either side of his head. His hands knead the soft tissue and fingertips dance around your ever hardening nipples as his tongue slides across your skin.

Wanton moans pour out of your mouth at the sudden cascade of attention to your breasts. More fuel for Edward’s fire. You writhe and sigh when his wet persistent tongue travels up the side of your breast and he takes the nipple into his mouth.

Equally perverse sounds bubble their way out of Edward, his mind peacefully blank as he suckles. Your legs are tangled together and he absent mindedly humps your thigh. His hardness easily felt through the thin fabric of his cheap slacks.

Your right hand returns to his dark blonde locks, fingers tightening and pulling him off of you with a soft pop when your nipple is pulled free of his lips. You gaze on his love drunk face with its wet puppy eyes and slackened jaw. Gently you guide him to the other breast. Edward resumes his devotions to your pleasure while you reach your free hand down towards his pants.

Your fingers pull clumsily at the latch on his belt. A frustrated grunt at your failure breaks Edward from his ministrations. He looks down to where your fingertips struggle and notices the small wet dot on the crotch of his pants. You’re going to think he’s a pervert. Panic grips him yet again, until he hears your voice husky with arousal.

“Take them off.” You lick your lips before adding, “please?”

His heart leaps into his throat and he finds himself wrenching his belt loose and scrambling out of his khakis faster than he thought possible. There is a moment's hesitation before he pulls down his boxer briefs. But then he sees you are squirming out of your own pants and panties all at once. And so his underwear joins its brethren on the floor.

Edward doesn’t have time to worry about the size of his cock or what it looks like bobbing up and down, leaking precum. He would worry but the distance between your knees keeps increasing. He feels like he is watching a time-lapse of an orchid blooming, the petals unfolding to reveal the true beauty within.

As you lean back on your elbows, legs bent at the knee and falling to either side, Edward stares hungrily; a starving man crawling across the desert on hands and knees. Your sweet cunt an overly ripe peach on the verge of decay, splitting at the seams with musky juices. The promise of satiety.

Edward has never committed this particular act before but the sirens’ song of your wet, pink pussy is simply too much to resist. His arms crawl beneath your legs and wrap around your thighs. Fingers gripping lest you change your mind, close your legs, and deny him what he now considers his singular goal.

You would never, of course. In this moment, your only desire is to give in to him. You’ll do anything if it means he will continue. You’ve never felt desired like this before. Like you are a benevolent goddess offering sustenance to your most loyal servant.

His gaze flits up to yours. With a small smile and nod you award him approval. Tentatively he presses his lips to your right thigh. First a chaste kiss. Then a light flick of tongue. A gentle nibble. Briefly his breath hits your sensitive throbbing sex but your torture is prolonged when you realize he is simply moving to do the same to your other thigh.

Desire coils within your pelvis. The ache overwhelms you, your need too great.

Your whines and moans fill Edward with a confidence he was unaware he could achieve without his mask. His breath is cool and sharp on your wetness as he comes to feast on you at last.

First, a chaste kiss. You throw your head back and shudder, amazed at how such a simple action could feel so electric. Then a light flick of tongue. Your elbows give way, landing you flat on the mattress. A gentle nibble. Your thighs clamp together to hold him hostage against you at the same time your hand flies to the back of his head.

“Ahhhhh! Eddie!!! Ahhhh!” You moan his name.

A beautiful woman is moaning his name.

The wheels in Edward’s mind begin to turn yet again. He cannot lose this. He needs to know how to recreate this result. He will master this puzzle. Unleashing his tongue to explore your folds, he begins to catalog every twitch and sound you make.

The flat of his tongue licking you like an ice cream cone draws a low moan. The pointed tip drawing circles around your clit cause you to buck and hiss. He kisses, sucks, and licks. You pant, shake, and writhe. He pulls your labia into his mouth. You growl and arch your back off the bed. He pushes his slick muscle into your aching hole. Your eyes go crossed as you whine and shiver.

It is impossible to tell how much time has passed. Every touch from Edward is electric pleasure. What started as sloppy-yet-eager has become a determined assault on your pulsing cunt. Your head lolls to the side and you can see him buried between your thighs, nose pressed to your clit. Sensation and image combine to launch you into ecstasy.

Your hips buck. Moans blur into growls blur into a purr. You feel your insides tighten and relax. Tighten and relax. A gush of fluid rushes into Edward’s mouth which he drinks gratefully.

Panting, he pulls back to look back up at you. His eyes glassy with lust and triumph. Face glistening with your release. Never have you seen something so erotic.

Your hands dart out and clutch his shoulders, “Eddie please, I need you. I need you in me.”

Edward pushes a sharp breath out of his nose. This is it. Jaw clenched, he reaches for his bedside table and pulls a condom from the top drawer. Not that he had many lovers, just that sometimes economy of cleanup during certain solo activities was tantamount.

With shaking fingers he rips the package open and tosses the wrapper away. He tries to steady his breathing and roll the condom on his turgid member. Lips pursed in concentration, eyes closed, Edward takes a deep grounding breath.

His absence is too much. You wiggle yourself closer to him and whisper seductively, “Please Edward.”

His eyes snap back open. His face set in determination he leans himself towards you. Propping himself on up his elbows over you. You simply can’t take it any longer. Before he can make another move you snake your hand between your legs and grasp him firmly eliciting a growling moan from the usually stoic man.

He is thick and firm in your palm. Twitching with excitement. You guide him towards your entrance, rolling your hips up to take in the tip. Seemingly of their own volition, Edward’s hips come crashing into yours, sheathing himself in one fluid motion. If you weren’t so aroused it may have been painful but all you can feel is a delicious fullness. Sparks ignite behind your wide eyes.

Edward takes a deep shuddering breath and pulls back slowly, looking down to see where you connect. He nearly pulls all the way out before sliding back in. The pace he sets is tortuously slow. Dragging his full length in and out. Your eyes roll back in your head, legs shaking. Edward has the sudden desire to never cum. To simply slide in and out for eternity. Perhaps that would be heaven.

Warmth and desire pools in your belly. Your legs come up to wrap around his hips. Your arms wrap around his torso. Still he continues to go much slower and gentler than what you crave.

“Please Eddie faster, please” you sob into his shoulder.

Unable to do anything but give in to your request, his pace quickens. He screws his eyes shut tight and wills himself to hold out. To remain here inside of you for as long as possible.

Edward nearly loses his control when your nails dig into his back and you wail, “Harder!”

A high pitched whine builds deep within him as he pistons himself into you. This is what you had been craving. Him rutting like a crazed buck in heat.

You pitch your hips up in time with his. Wet slapping sounds echo around the room peppered with guttural moans and hisses of pleasure.

Jaw clenched, Edward uses every ounce of willpower he has to maintain his pace, holding back just enough to avoid falling over the edge. No small feat as you thrash beneath him. Gasping. Clawing at his back. Digging your heels into his ass.

“Ohmygod, Eddie! Mm gonna cum!” Your body engulfs in fire, every nerve alight with ecstasy. You become weightless, out of time and space as your orgasm crashes through you.

Edward feels the rush of warm liquid. Your soft, slick walls clamp down on him like a vice. The muscles contract in waves to produce a milking sensation. He does not slow, fucking you through your orgasm and quickly catching up to his own.

A sweet languid smile graces your flushed face as you come back down from your peak. You are so beautiful, so angelic in his eyes.

A dark possessiveness overcomes him. His thrusts come even faster. More wild than before. He buries his face into your neck and growls, “Mine.”

The word unlocks something within you. Your arms and legs curl around him tighter as you gasp your reply, “Yours.”

His teeth sink into your neck. You feel his growls reverberate in your whole body as he repeats it over and over. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

The tension in his abdomen becomes too much to bear. He feels his scrotum tighten in anticipation of release. Edward seats himself inside your warmth as deeply as he possibly can. A strangled cry rips from his lungs as he cums inside of you.

As the spots fade from his vision and his ragged breath evens out, the full realization of what has transpired comes over Edward. The pretty girl from next door was beneath him. Naked. The woman he had pined over since the very first time she had smiled at him was flushed and breathing unsteadily.

Cold spiney fingers of panic start clawing at his chest. The questions don’t just run at lightning speed through his mind, they tumble speedily from his lips.

“Um A-are you okay? Uh did you uh c-cum? Was was I good?”

Edward’s face burns with embarrassment at his clumsy pillow talk.

Until your face once again brightens with a smile, “Yes, oh yes and oh my god yes!!”

You punctuate each affirmation with a kiss, gazing back at him adoringly.

His heart swells beating back the icy grip of panic. He lets out a breath he did not know he was holding and gently untangles himself from you.

Edward carefully slides the condom off his now softened member and ties off the end. He places it gently on the nightstand. Cringing at the sickening squish sound it makes.

He picks up his glasses, places them on his face, and turns back to you. “Um do you need anything? What should I do now?”

Your face splits into a warm smile, “Just cuddle me, silly.”

You open your arms up to him and he slides down to lay beside you. Arms wrap around each other and legs entangle together. Edward grabs the blanket and pulls it over you both at an awkward angle. You idly play with his hair and a contented sigh escapes you.

“Hmm I guess this means you’re not gonna kill me huh? “ you say with a tired laugh.

“No,” you can feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck, “but I might chain you to the radiator.” A high pitched almost manic giggle bursts from him.

You join him with your own laughter crazed from the whirlwind of emotion. You didn’t know if he was kidding or not. Or if you even cared.

End

[clangenrising]

Month 19 - Leaffall

Lakepaw was trying to sleep, her head aching and her skin clammy, when the night was split by sudden caterwauling. She jolted out of her nest, head swimming, as a cacophony of screaming voices flooded into the den from outside. 

“What’s going on?” Sagetooth groaned weakly, trying to sit up.

“I dunno,” Lakepaw whispered. Steadying herself, she crept quickly and quietly to the mouth of the den, staying low and light on her paws. Out in the clearing, a horde of cats was engaged in combat, hissing and clawing at each other with bloody muzzles and fur between their claws. Lakepaw’s eyes widened in fear. 

“It’s rogues!” she whispered back to Sagetooth. “There’s rogues in camp!” 

“Fox-dung!” Sagetooth spat under her breath.

Lakepaw tried to pick familiar faces out of the storm of fur and teeth. There, Yarrowshade dodged blows from two separate kittypets. There, Pantherhaze tumbled with a black and white cat twice his size. There, Ospreymask grabbed a kittypet by the ear and tore him off of Slatepaw’s struggling form only for another cat to lunge for the apprentice’s tail as soon as she was on her feet. The warriors were outnumbered and fighting tooth and nail to keep their heads above the metaphorical water. 

“Get off me!” Lakepaw heard Yellowkit screaming and her gaze whipped to the nursery where a scarred smoky tabby was struggling to lift the kit by the scruff while another kittypet pursued Bluekit deeper into the den. 

“I have to go help them!” Lakepaw said, looking back at Sagetooth. The old healer had heaved herself from her nest and tossed the moss from her forehead, stumbling back to the herb stores with a wobbly step. She didn’t seem to register what Lakepaw had said and suddenly she wasn’t so sure if she should leave Sagetooth alone. 

“This way,” she heard a stranger’s voice close by and instinctively pressed herself against the wall of the den and out of sight. “Their herbs are stored in one of these dens.” 

“Not this one,” another voice said from somewhere to the side -- Goldenstar’s den, most likely.

Lakepaw backed away from the entrance, tail bristling and tried to make herself as big as she could. If the rogues got to the herbs, cats would surely die of injuries. She couldn’t let that happen. Besides, Sagetooth was back there, heat-stricken and vulnerable. Lakepaw took a slow deep breath and tried to remember everything Floodstrike had taught her, deeply grateful she had been putting in extra battle training hours lately. 

Two kittypets pushed their way into the den, the first of them a smallish brown tabby with a dark mask and a silver collar. He narrowed his eyes as he saw her, back arching slightly. The other, standing a step behind him, was a white, snub-nosed tom who raised his brows and cocked his head, an amused smile on his face.

“Aww, she’s trying to be intimidating,” the white cat purred mockingly. “Should we take her with us too?” 

“If you want to deal with her, be my guest,” the tabby scowled. “I’m going to do what we came here for.” He took a step forward and Lakepaw hissed loudly, rearing up on her toes. 

“Stay back!” she spat, “You’re not allowed in here!” 

“Oh no,” the tabby said sarcastically, “I guess we’ll have to turn around.” Then he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Casper?”  

The white cat shouldered his way past the tabby and prowled towards her, grinning. Lakepaw knew she had to move. She bunched her legs underneath her and lunged at his face, swatting at him with a series of quick claw strikes. He hissed and reared back before headbutting her squarely in the nose. She cried out and thumped gracelessly onto the ground. Her pre-existing headache throbbed nauseatingly and she nearly gagged when a heavy paw pressed down on her abdomen. She vaguely registered the tabby picking his way past her with careful pawsteps. 

He opened his mouth to scent the air as he ventured deeper, saying to himself, “Alright, now where are those-” 

He cried out suddenly as Sagetooth’s familiar hiss sounded over the noise of a solid thwap. Lakepaw tilted her head to watch the kittypet recoiling, blood pooling over the bridge of his nose. Sagetooth had apparently been waiting around the corner and now she struck out again, scraping her claws against his cheek. 

“Get out, you faithless, snake-hearted kittypets!” the old healer snarled, swaying on her feet. “Begone! And may StarClan curse you for all your days!” 

“You backwards old hag!” the tabby spat back and struck Sagetooth on the side of the head so hard that her face collided with the wall of the den. With a loud thunk, she slid to the ground, groaning weakly. 

Lakepaw twisted and bit the paw pinning her down as hard as she could. Casper yanked it back with a hiss of pain and she scrambled to her feet then charged the smaller tom. With a leap, she sank her claws into his back and the two of them toppled under her momentum. The tom cried out, flailing his legs in her direction, but she clung tightly with her forepaws and rabbit-kicked as hard as she could with claws unsheathed. His flesh tore under her blows and another wave of nausea overtook her just long enough for the tom to wrench himself free from her grasp. 

“Insufferable little-!” the tabby puffed up as he got to his feet, looking like he’d just suffered a terrible indignity. 

“Lakepaw, run,” Sagetooth managed to say, shifting her weight as she tried to stand. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” the tom said as if correcting a naughty kitten and smacked Sagetooth sharply on the forehead again. She crumpled to the ground but that didn’t stop him. He kept raining blows on her head one after the other after the other. Lakepaw screamed and lunged for him but Casper intercepted her with a hook of his claws, pulling her tight to his chest. She thrashed, vision blurring through tears, but couldn’t seem to free herself. 

“That’s what you get!” the tabby shrieked with one final strike. “How dare you lay your paws on me?!” Lakepaw held her breath and strained her ears but Sagetooth didn’t even moan. A tense silence filled the den, contrasted by the sounds of battle still raging outside. Lakepaw desperately blinked the tears from her eyes and nearly burst into tears again when she saw the blood dripping out of Sagetooth’s nose, the healer’s eyelids moving sluggishly over her fully dilated pupils. 

“Sagetooth!” she wailed, paws shaking. 

The tabby took a deep, slow breath and let it out shakily then ran his tongue over his paw like he had dirtied it by touching her. When he straightened back up, he was wearing a placid smile as if nothing had happened. 

“Right,” he said to himself, glancing over at the cat holding Lakepaw captive. “Are you really going to bother with that thing?” He frowned at her in distaste. 

“Maybe,” Casper shrugged. “We’re here for their kits, aren’t we?” Lakepaw trembled against his chest, too afraid to move. 

“We’re here for the exalted kits,” the tabby scoffed. “This one’s a savage through and through. Look, she’s already bitten you. Just be done with her and help me with the actually important work.” 

“Fine,” Casper sighed and suddenly teeth were in Lakepaw’s throat. She gasped sharply, clawed at his face and kicked at the paws holding her still but they didn’t budge. With a tug of his head, he ripped something in her neck and then dropped her to the floor, stepping over her with a few quick strides. She fumbled to stand but collapsed again, slipping in her own blood as it soaked her fur all the way down her right foreleg and pattered into the dirt. 

“Everything gets destroyed,” the tabby said. “I don’t want a single usable leaf left.” 

“Whatever you say, Sardine,” said Casper. 

Lakepaw crawled across the floor, feeling dizzy. It took all of her strength to drag herself over to Sagetooth and gently rest their foreheads against each other. 

“It’s… gonna be okay, Sagetooth,” she murmured, closing her eyes so she could focus on the words. “We just have to hang on… It’s gonna be… okay…” Sagetooth didn’t respond. Lakepaw sniffled and tried to purr, hoping that maybe -- just maybe -- that would be enough to keep Sagetooth awake until someone came to help them.

UPDATES: - Sagetooth and Lakepaw are killed by rogues.

[authorred]

Die With A Smile | Li Shen/Zayne x gn!Reader | Love and Deepspace

➺ Preface: After a particularly bad run-in with a wanderer, you're left essentially dying on site. You know this will not bode over well for a certain doctor-friend of yours, so you force yourself up and onwards. Both you and Zayne have to reconcile the fact that you almost died without seeing each other for almost a month.

➺ I know I already posted a song-fic for this song but goddammit I keep seeing edits for this shit on my fyp and I love this song so mf much that I can't myself ( I also have an unhealthy obsession with Zayne ).

Maybe I'll do a Sylus version??? However the hell I'll do that.

→ Song

Warning(s): Mentions of extensive wounds, blood

Oh god, Zayne is going to kill me.

Your skin is warm and sticky; a disconcerting feeling. What remains of your clothes is glued to your skin in blood and sweat, most of it yours. You don't know why, but for some reason, Wanderers love to dick with you as if you're a hot commodity. You were just trying to do your job as a Deepspace Hunter, which you succeeded at technically, but, now your injuries are catching up to you.

You're starting to feel lightheaded and stumbling on your feet. You don't know if you've broken any bones, but all you know is that every part of your body hurts and trying to blink takes all of your energy.

Goddammit, if Zayne sees me he's going to be so mad. Or sad. Or both. I didn't even text him today--I should've texted him.

You stumble from the remains of where the protocore field emerged. You can feel the warmth of your blood spilling down your leg and flooding your boots. It’s an absolutely unnerving sensation. You have to find a way to the hospital. You need to get help. You can’t die. Not like this. Not before you see Zayne.

~

You were going to kill him. No, not kill, perhaps that’s too far. But you were going to scold him, chastise him like a worried mother. Zayne has been pushing himself again, not taking breaks or sleeping for more than five hours. He’s been using the on-call rooms in Akso or sleeping in his office. He doesn’t know why he does this. Perhaps he’s stressed because you haven’t texted him in several days and he’s unknowing to your severe injuries. It’s a way to cope. Because if he didn’t, he’d go mad.

So why.

Why?

Why is he staring at several paramedics rolling you into the hospital, covered in blood and unconscious? Is that what you’ve been doing all this time? Being reckless? Risking your life? Again?

He stands there, rooted to the linoleum, watching you be rolled into the OR for emergency surgery. He doesn’t know what’s wrong—eyeballing it he could tell you’re suffering from many lacerations. But what if there’s more? What if your heart is giving out?

It’s not until the hospital begins to settle again that he’s able to move. Swallowing thickly and moving like a ghost back to where he’s needed.

~

Hours pass—two hours, specifically. Zayne stands in your hospital room staring at your sleeping figure. Covered in bandages and bruises alike, his eyes are filled with trepidation belying fear and concern. The pain you must’ve went through to trek all the way to Akso Hospital—the amount of blood you lost. Too stubborn for your own good. He can’t linger, he has other duties to attend to. But he wants to—gods, he wants to.

Stepping up to the side of your bed, his hand reaches out. His fingertips brush against the palm of your hand, gently trailing them up your wrist and arm. Featherlight touches to prove you’re here, alive, breathing. His virescent eyes comb up and down your body. “How reckless,” he whispers. “And here I thought you were simply lost with no reception.”

No response, as he expected.

With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, Zayne retracts his hand and places it back in his coat pocket. With one last lingering look, he turns and walks away from your hospital bed. He has work to finish, and you’re stabilized and alive. At least he’s assured in that regard. He can go on with the rest of his day without that aching, gnawing anxiety in his chest. It’s a relief, really.

~

When you wake up, you have no idea where you are at first. You’re completely disoriented and lost. You vaguely remember trying to navigate your way through a town on the outskirts of Linkon, and then after that, the memories are fuzzy.

You look to your side, your vision severely blurred. You can see a person sitting in the chair next to your bed, resting. You recognize the shape of their body immediately. “Zayne?” Comes your hoarse, weak voice. Even that’s enough to rouse him from his sleep—or maybe he wasn’t even fully asleep in the first place.

Zayne sits up straight when he sees you’re awake before standing. “Y/n,” he says, almost in surprise. “You’re awake. With the amount of sedatives in your body, you should still be asleep.”

“I can’t move my body,” you chuckle softly, but it sounds like a sad whimper instead. “Maybe that’s where they went. . .”

Zayne sighs at your attempt of jokes in your state. “Should I ask what happened this time?”

“I think you know.”

Zayne gazes down at you, his eyes slightly narrowed in worry. “You’re too reckless. Please, put some value on your life before we’re unable to fix you.”

“I know,” you reply softly. “But you don’t seem the best either. I can still see those dark circles even through my fucked up vision. You’ve been overworking again, haven’t you?”

Zayne shifts like a kid getting caught before looking away, “I take naps during the day so I can be productive at night. And I’ve been eating well and hydrating. Truly, it’s not that bad.”

“Those dark circles say otherwise.”

A moment passes before Zayne looks at you again. “You were too close this time,” he says. “Your life was in a precarious position. You’re lucky we had the personnel available.”

“I know,” you repeat. “I know. I—I’ll be honest, I didn’t think. . . I didn’t think I’d make it.”

Zayne’s expression drops suddenly, but he lets you talk.

“All I remember thinking is that I needed to get to a hospital, to get help, because if I didn’t, I’d regret it. Regret not texting you, seeing you. I wanted to see you one more time, at least.”

Zayne’s face twitches, and he resists the urge to reach out and touch you. You need space. Your body needs time to heal. “I see,” he replies softly. “Is that what gave you strength to crawl to the doors of the hospital?”

“Yes,” you nod softly. “At least, if I died here, I’d be near you. And that’s enough for me.”

Zayne doesn’t say anything immediately. “I would be. . . in pain if you died,” he says quietly, doing best to articulate his feelings without coming off as too much. “I would miss you greatly. Agonizingly.”

“Tomorrow is never promised,” you say, gazing at him with such affection and favor he feels lightheaded from holding your gaze. “But if I die—if I die next to you, with you. . . I wouldn’t change a thing. I would die happy and content. Knowing you’re there.”

Zayne swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down under his black dress shirt. “I believe it would be best if we promised each other. . . to not push ourselves too far.”

You chuckle softly, “Maybe. But whatever the case, I’m just happy you’re here.”

You add, “And when the day comes I do die, I’ll gladly die with a smile if you’re with me.”

[muiitoloko]

Hi! I adore your fic. Can you write about Antoine Richis/fem.reader ( nc17,21) ? Please😍🥰😘

Title: A Secret Beneath

Summary: In the shadows of a grand estate, a maid and her master, Antoine Richis, hide their forbidden love, navigating a web of passion, jealousy, and the impossibility of their desires.

Pairing: Antoine Richis × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Possessiveness, obsession, jealousy.

Author's Notes: Honestly, when I got the request for Antoine, I was totally stumped on what to write. So, I just went with the flow and hoped for the best! 😅 I’ll admit, it’s not my finest masterpiece, but I was satisfied enough to hit that ‘post’ button. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

Also read on Ao3

For months, you had been living a secret life in Antoine Richis' grand estate. To everyone else, you were simply a maid—dutiful, obedient, and invisible in the grand scheme of things. But behind closed doors, when the world was shrouded in darkness and silence, you were something else entirely. You were Antoine's secret, his forbidden indulgence, the woman who had unwittingly breached the walls of his carefully controlled world.

Your relationship with Antoine had started almost innocently—an unspoken tension, stolen glances, a lingering touch that lasted a heartbeat too long. It wasn't long before that tension boiled over into something physical, something neither of you could resist. Antoine was a man of power, of composure, but when it came to you, he was something else—hungry, desperate, and possessive in ways that left you breathless.

It was a dangerous game, one that both thrilled and terrified you. Antoine was not just any man; he was wealthy, influential, and bound by the rigid expectations of his status. He could never acknowledge what you had in the light of day. To the world, you were beneath his notice—a maid, a woman of no consequence. But in the privacy of his study, his chambers, or wherever else he decided to take you, you were everything he desired.

Tonight was no different. You had been summoned to his study under the guise of bringing him his nightly brandy. The heavy oak door had barely closed behind you before Antoine had you pressed against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with a force that took your breath away. It was a kiss filled with urgency, with the desperation of a man who had denied himself for far too long.

He had stripped you of your dress with practiced ease, his hands rough and impatient as they roamed over your bare skin. There was no tenderness in his touch tonight, only raw, unfiltered need. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, filled with the hunger that always lurked just beneath his carefully controlled exterior. “You drive me to madness.”

You whimpered under his touch, your body responding instinctively to the roughness of his hands, the heat of his breath against your skin. Antoine was not gentle, not tonight. He was a man on the edge, and you were the only thing that could pull him back. He spun you around, pressing your chest against the cold surface of his desk, his hands gripping your hips with a force that left bruises.

“You’re mine,” he hissed in your ear, his voice laced with a possessiveness that made your heart race. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire. It was a truth you had come to accept, even as you knew that what you had could never last. Antoine would never truly be yours, not in the way you wanted. But in these stolen moments, in the darkness where no one could see, you could pretend that he was.

Antoine’s hands tightened on your hips as he drove into you, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He was relentless, taking you with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath, your knuckles white as you gripped the edge of the desk to keep yourself steady. He knew exactly how to break you, how to push you to the brink and pull you back just before you fell.

But no matter how much pleasure he gave you, Antoine never allowed himself the same release. He would pull out at the last moment, his hand covering your mouth to muffle your cries as you came undone beneath him. He would finish himself off with quick, efficient strokes, his eyes never leaving yours as he spilled his seed onto the floor or a nearby cloth. It was his way of maintaining control, of keeping you at a distance, even in the most intimate of moments.

He would never risk coming inside you. You had asked him once, in a moment of vulnerability, why he always pulled away. His answer had been cold, calculated, a reminder of the world that separated you. “I can’t afford to take any chances,” he had said, his voice devoid of the warmth you had come to crave. “You’re a secret, nothing more. I won’t risk ruining everything for a few moments of pleasure.”

His words had stung, but you had accepted them because, deep down, you knew they were true. Antoine liked you, perhaps even cared for you in his own way, but he would never admit it. He could never afford to. You were his dirty little secret, the woman he took solace in when the pressures of his world became too much to bear. But once the sun rose, once the world woke up, you would go back to being just a maid, and Antoine would go back to being the man of composure and control, the man who could never acknowledge what you had.

And yet, despite the pain, despite the knowledge that this could never be more than what it was, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away. Because in those moments, in the darkness of his study, you were his. And that was enough.

As the months passed, your relationship with Antoine continued in secret. The danger of being discovered only heightened the thrill, the forbidden nature of your trysts adding fuel to the fire that burned between you. Antoine’s cold exterior would melt away as soon as the door closed behind you, and he would become the man who craved you, who needed you in ways that neither of you could fully understand.

But as much as you tried to deny it, you knew that you were falling for him. Every touch, every stolen kiss, every whispered word in the dark made you long for more, for something that could never be. You knew it was foolish, that you were setting yourself up for heartbreak, but you couldn’t help it. Antoine was like a drug, and you were hopelessly addicted.

Antoine, for his part, seemed to struggle with his own feelings. He would pull you close one moment, his touch tender and almost loving, only to push you away the next, reminding you both that this was temporary, that you could never be more than what you were. He would never admit that he cared for you, but in those quiet moments, when the world outside ceased to exist, you could see it in his eyes—a flicker of something deeper, something he tried desperately to keep buried.

One night, as you lay tangled in his sheets, the remnants of your passion still lingering in the air, you found the courage to ask him a question that had been gnawing at you for months.

“Antoine,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you traced lazy patterns on his chest. “What are we doing?”

Antoine stiffened slightly at your words, his gaze turning cold as he looked down at you. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice guarded, as if he already knew where this conversation was headed.

You hesitated, unsure if you really wanted to hear the answer, but you pressed on anyway. “I mean… this. Us. We’ve been doing this for months now, but… what are we to each other? Am I just a convenience to you?”

For a moment, Antoine said nothing, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he considered your words. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, devoid of the warmth you had come to crave. “You know what this is, what it has to be. I can’t offer you anything more than what we have now. You’re a maid, and I’m a man of status. This… whatever it is between us… it can never be more than what it is.”

His words cut through you like a knife, the harsh reality of your situation crashing down around you. You had known, deep down, that this was always going to be the answer, but hearing it from his lips still hurt more than you could have imagined.

“I see,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “So that’s all I am to you? A secret, a… a distraction?”

Antoine turned his head to look at you, his expression softening ever so slightly as he reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down your face. “You’re more than that,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible in the darkness. “But it doesn’t change anything. I can’t give you more, no matter how much I might want to.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. You knew he was right, that there was no future for you here, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. For months, you had been living in a fantasy, pretending that what you had was enough, but now the reality of your situation was impossible to ignore.

And yet, despite the pain, you knew that you couldn’t walk away. Antoine had become a part of you, a piece of your soul that you couldn’t simply discard. You would take whatever he was willing to give you, even if it wasn’t enough, because losing him completely was a thought too unbearable to consider.

“I understand,” you whispered, your voice filled with a sadness that you couldn’t hide. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, Antoine. Even if it’s just for a little while longer.”

Antoine’s grip on your cheek tightened slightly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the truth in your words. After a moment, he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, a kiss that spoke of regret, of longing, of all the things he would never allow himself to say.

And as you lay there in his arms, the world outside forgotten, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you could keep living this lie, how long you could keep pretending that what you had was enough. Because deep down, you knew that one day, this secret life you had built with Antoine would come crashing down around you. And when that day came, you weren’t sure if you would survive the fall.

That night, you found yourself once again in Antoine Richis' study, the familiar tension hanging heavy in the air as the door clicked shut behind you. The soft glow of candlelight cast long shadows across the room, the flickering flames reflecting in Antoine’s hazel eyes as he turned to face you, his expression a mix of desire and restraint.

Without a word, he closed the distance between you, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you close, his lips crashing down on yours with an urgency that left you breathless. His kiss was rough, possessive, as if he was trying to claim every part of you in that single moment. You responded eagerly, your hands clutching at his coat, desperate to feel him, to lose yourself in the forbidden pleasure he offered.

Antoine wasted no time, his hands working with practiced ease to strip you of your clothes, his breath coming in short, heavy bursts as he took in the sight of your bare skin.

“Monsieur… please…” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Please?” Antoine repeated, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest as he tightened his grip on your hair, his other hand moving to undo his trousers with practiced ease. “You want this, don’t you? You want me to take you right here, while my daughter sleeps just down the hall? You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond as the need in your core grew unbearable. Antoine wasted no time, spinning you around so that your chest pressed against the cold, hard surface of his desk. The roughness of the wood against your sensitive skin only heightened your arousal, making you gasp as he nudged your legs apart with his knee.

The sound of his trousers hitting the floor was followed by the unmistakable sensation of his hardness pressing against your entrance. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape as he pushed inside you, filling you completely in one powerful thrust.

“God, you’re so tight,” Antoine groaned, his voice rough with lust as he began to move, his hips slamming against yours with a force that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he took you with a ferocity that bordered on desperation.

You struggled to keep quiet, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as each thrust drove you closer to the edge. But it was impossible to stay silent when he felt so good inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with a precision that left you trembling with need.

Antoine sensed your struggle, and with a growl, he reached up to grab your hair, pulling your head back sharply as he leaned down to hiss in your ear. “Be quiet,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want Laure to hear you. Do you understand?”

You nodded frantically, biting down on your lip to stifle the moans that threatened to spill out. “I’m sorry, monsieur,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be quiet, I promise…”

But Antoine’s movements were relentless, his thrusts growing harder, faster, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing over you until you were trembling on the brink of release. His balls slapped against your clit with every thrust, the sensation almost too much to bear, and despite your best efforts, a soft whimper escaped your lips.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” Antoine snarled, his grip on your hair tightening as he slammed into you even harder, the force of his thrusts driving you into the desk. “You’re a dirty little whore, aren’t you? You can’t even keep your mouth shut when I’m fucking you."

Tears of frustration and pleasure welled up in your eyes as you fought to control the sounds threatening to escape, your body shaking with the effort. But it was no use—Antoine felt too good, his cock driving into you with a precision that left you gasping for breath, every nerve in your body on fire.

“I… I can’t…” you whimpered, your voice trembling as you clung to the edge of the desk, your knuckles white with the effort of staying quiet. “Monsieur… please… I’m going to…”

Before you could finish your sentence, Antoine’s hand moved from your hair to cover your mouth, muffling the cry that erupted from your throat as your orgasm tore through you, your body convulsing around him. The force of your release sent you spiraling into oblivion, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Antoine’s breath hitched, a low growl escaping his lips as he felt you tighten around him, the sensation pushing him dangerously close to the edge. But he wasn’t ready to let go just yet—he wanted to savor this, to draw it out for as long as possible.

He slowed his pace, his movements becoming more deliberate, more controlled, as he rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm. You could feel him pulsing inside you, his cock twitching with the effort of holding back, and you knew he was close—so close.

“Please…” you whispered, your voice muffled by his hand as you turned your head to look at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and need. “Don’t stop… I want to feel you come inside me…”

Antoine’s eyes darkened at your words, a low, dangerous growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled out of you abruptly, his hand still covering your mouth as he spun you around to face him. “You think I’d risk getting you pregnant?” he hissed, his voice low and rough as he held you in place, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “You’re nothing more than a dirty little maid… a secret… and I can’t afford to have a bastard running around, ruining everything I’ve worked for.”

You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sent a shiver down your spine. “But… I want you…” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and longing. “I want all of you, monsieur… even if it’s just for tonight…"

Antoine’s expression softened slightly, a flicker of something—perhaps regret, perhaps something deeper—crossing his features before it was quickly replaced by the cold, calculating mask he always wore. “Maybe one day,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “But not tonight. Not until I know it’s safe.”

With that, he released you, stepping back to fasten his trousers, his movements quick and efficient as he regained his composure. You stood there, trembling and exposed, your heart aching with a longing you knew could never be fully satisfied.

Antoine glanced at you one last time, his eyes lingering on your flushed, tear-streaked face before he turned and walked toward the door. “Clean yourself up,” he ordered, his voice cold and detached once more. “And remember—this never happened. You’re a maid, nothing more. Do you understand?”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak as you watched him leave, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a leaden cloak. You knew he was right—there could never be anything more between you. You were a woman of no title, no status, and he was Antoine Richis, a powerful merchant with everything to lose.

But even as you wiped away the tears, even as you gathered your dress and tried to compose yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, for just a moment, you had glimpsed something deeper in him—something that went beyond his cold, controlled exterior. And you couldn’t help but wonder if, one day, he might let that part of himself be known.

Days had passed since your last encounter with Antoine, and life in the Richis household resumed its usual rhythm. You kept to your duties, tending to the daily chores, always aware of Antoine's presence but careful never to overstep the boundaries that had been so painfully drawn between you. The memory of that night still lingered in your mind, the intensity of his touch, the harsh reality of his words. But there was no time for reflection as you had other responsibilities to attend to, including your role in looking after Laure, Antoine’s beloved daughter.

Today, you had accompanied Laure to the local market, a task that was both a pleasure and a burden. Laure, young and full of life, enjoyed these outings, chatting animatedly as you navigated the bustling market stalls. You couldn’t help but smile at her excitement, but there was an undercurrent of tension in you—an awareness of the secrets you harbored, of the forbidden relationship that lay beneath your calm exterior.

As you returned to the Richis estate, Laure wasted no time in running ahead to find her father, eager to share the details of her day. You, meanwhile, carried the groceries inside, your thoughts preoccupied with the need to maintain the facade that had become your life.

Antoine was in the living room, seated on the plush sofa, his sharp eyes skimming the newspaper in his hands. The room was quiet, the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth the only sound. When Laure burst in, her cheeks flushed with excitement, Antoine looked up, a rare smile touching his lips as he set the newspaper aside.

“Papa!” Laure called out, her voice bright and cheerful as she hurried to his side. She sat next to him, her youthful energy filling the room. “Nous avons eu une journée tellement amusante! Il y avait tellement de choses à voir au marché aujourd'hui.”

Antoine chuckled softly, his gaze warm as he listened to his daughter with the attention he always gave her. “Tell me, Laure,” he said in his deep baritone voice, his hand resting affectionately on her arm. “What did you see today that has you so excited?”

Laure’s eyes sparkled as she began to recount their trip to the market. “Oh, Papa, there were so many beautiful things! The flowers were in full bloom, and there was a man playing the violin—his music was so enchanting! But the most exciting part was when the baker’s son came over to us.”

Antoine’s expression remained calm, though his eyes narrowed slightly as he listened, sensing that there was more to the story.

“Laure,” he prompted, his voice gentle but with an edge of curiosity, “what about the baker’s son?”

Laure giggled, leaning closer to her father as if sharing a secret. “He brought flowers, Papa. A whole bouquet of roses! But they weren’t for me—they were for her,” she said, glancing towards the kitchen where you were putting away the groceries.

Antoine’s smile faltered, his expression darkening slightly. “For her?” he repeated, his tone carefully controlled, though a storm began to brew behind his hazel eyes.

“Yes, Papa,” Laure continued, oblivious to the shift in his mood. “He gave them to her with such a charming smile, and you should have seen how she blushed! It was so sweet. He’s been courting her, I think. The other maids at the market were whispering about it too.”

Antoine’s hand tightened around the arm of the sofa, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to maintain his composure. “I see,” he said quietly, his voice now tinged with something darker, something possessive. He forced a smile for Laure’s sake, but his thoughts were already racing, the image of you accepting another man’s attention, another man’s gifts, igniting a fire in his chest.

Laure, completely unaware of the tension building in her father, continued to chatter on, describing the baker’s son with all the enthusiasm of a young woman romanticizing a potential suitor. “He’s quite handsome, Papa, and so polite! Everyone says he’s one of the most eligible young men in the village. Don’t you think it’s wonderful that she might have someone like him?”

Antoine’s jaw clenched, his mind whirling with jealousy and a growing sense of possessiveness. The idea of you with another man, of someone else touching you, courting you, was intolerable. The thought alone was enough to make his blood boil, yet he kept his face carefully neutral as he responded.

“Laure,” he said, his voice carefully measured, “it’s good that you had such an enjoyable day. But sometimes, young men can be… frivolous with their attentions. The world can be a dangerous place, and not every suitor has the best intentions.”

Laure frowned, puzzled by her father’s sudden shift in tone. “But Papa, he seemed so sincere…”

Antoine cut her off gently, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he did, ma chérie. But let’s not rush into any conclusions, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. It��s important to be cautious.”

Laure, sensing the firmness in her father’s voice, nodded, though a hint of disappointment lingered in her eyes. “Yes, Papa. You’re right, of course.”

Antoine offered her a tight-lipped smile, his mind already working on how to deal with this unexpected development. He couldn’t afford to let someone else come between you, to let another man encroach on what he had claimed as his own. His gaze drifted toward the kitchen door, where you were still busy with the groceries, completely unaware of the conversation happening just beyond your hearing.

“Why don’t you go and rest for a while, Laure?” Antoine suggested, his voice returning to its usual warmth. “You’ve had a long day, and you deserve some time to relax.”

Laure nodded, smiling up at her father before leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Papa. I think I will.”

As Laure left the room, Antoine remained seated, his thoughts dark and tumultuous. The fire crackled in the hearth, the soft glow of the flames doing little to warm the coldness that had settled in his chest. He knew he had to confront this, had to ensure that you understood your place and the boundaries that came with it.

Rising from the sofa, Antoine made his way to the kitchen, his steps deliberate, his expression unreadable. He found you there, arranging the groceries with the same meticulous care you applied to all your tasks, blissfully unaware of the storm that was about to break.

“Chérie,” Antoine’s voice cut through the silence, causing you to startle slightly as you turned to face him. The intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, your hands freezing mid-motion as you met his eyes.

“Monsieur,” you responded, your voice polite, though the tension in the air was palpable. You could sense that something was wrong, that the easygoing mood from earlier had shifted into something far more serious.

Antoine stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space of the kitchen. “I hear you had an interesting day at the market,” he said quietly, his tone deceptively calm as he took another step toward you.

You swallowed, your mind racing as you tried to decipher his mood. “Yes, Monsieur, it was a pleasant outing with Mademoiselle Laure. The market was lively.”

Antoine’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “And what about the baker’s son? I hear he was quite… attentive to you.”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, a mixture of embarrassment and apprehension at the mention of the young man. “He… he gave me flowers, Monsieur. It was just a gesture of kindness. Nothing more.”

Antoine’s jaw tightened, the faintest hint of a sneer pulling at his lips. “Kindness,” he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “And did you enjoy this kindness? Did you blush for him the way Laure said you did?”

You felt the weight of his gaze, the possessiveness that radiated from him like a tangible force. “It was nothing, Monsieur,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t ask for the flowers. He just… offered them.”

Antoine reached out, his hand cupping your chin with a firm but gentle grip, forcing you to look up at him. “You are mine,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, the words laced with a dark promise. “No one else has the right to court you, to give you flowers, to make you blush. Do you understand?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sent a shiver down your spine. “Yes, Monsieur,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire. “I understand.”

Antoine’s gaze softened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he leaned in closer. “Good,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Because if anyone ever tries to take you from me, if anyone dares to think they can have what belongs to me, they will regret it. I won’t let anyone else have you.”

His words were both a warning and a vow, the possessiveness in his tone making it clear that he would do whatever it took to keep you under his control. And as you stood there, caught between fear and longing, you realized that there was no escaping Antoine Richis—no matter how dangerous your connection with him became.

In the days following your confrontation with Antoine, a heavy tension settled over the estate. You continued to go about your duties as a maid, but the words he had spoken to you in the kitchen lingered in your mind, like a dark cloud that refused to dissipate. His possessiveness had taken you by surprise, leaving you to grapple with the contradictory nature of his feelings toward you. Antoine had always been a man of control, his emotions carefully contained, his desires tightly reined in. And yet, when it came to you, those reins seemed to slip, revealing a side of him that you were only beginning to understand.

You found yourself in a constant state of confusion, torn between the man who had dismissed you as nothing more than a maid and the one who now claimed you as his own, with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession. How could he say that you were nothing to him one moment, only to turn around and act as if he could never let you go the next? It made no sense, and the more you tried to make sense of it, the more elusive the answers became.

One evening, as you prepared to retire to your small chamber in the servants' quarters, you were summoned once again to Antoine’s study. The request was not unusual; it had become routine for him to call for you late at night, under the guise of needing some trivial task done, when in reality, it was simply an excuse to have you near him. But tonight, as you stood before his door, a sense of dread coiled in your stomach, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you.

You knocked softly, waiting for his voice to grant you entry. When the command came, you pushed the heavy oak door open and stepped inside, your gaze immediately falling on Antoine, who was seated behind his desk, his eyes shadowed by the dim light of the candles that flickered around the room. He looked up as you entered, his expression unreadable, and gestured for you to approach.

“Close the door,” he ordered, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made your heart skip a beat.

You did as he instructed, the soft click of the door echoing in the silence of the room. The tension in the air was palpable as you walked slowly toward him, your steps tentative, as if you were approaching a lion in his den. Antoine’s gaze never left you, his hazel eyes piercing through the shadows, searching for something in your expression that he had yet to find.

When you reached his desk, he motioned for you to sit in the chair opposite him. You hesitated for a moment, but his eyes were unyielding, and you knew better than to disobey. You lowered yourself into the chair, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as you waited for him to speak.

Antoine leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he regarded you with an intensity that made you feel as though he could see right through you, laying bare all the secrets you had tried to keep hidden.

“Tell me,” he began, his voice deceptively soft, “why did you accept those flowers from the baker’s son?”

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, unsure of how to respond. “I… I didn’t think much of it, Monsieur. It was just a small gesture of kindness. I didn’t want to be rude by refusing.”

Antoine’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward slightly, his gaze growing colder. “Kindness? Is that what you seek, then? Kindness from a simple baker’s son? Do you find that more appealing than what I offer you?”

Your breath hitched at the sudden sharpness in his tone, and you shook your head quickly, trying to quell the rising panic in your chest. “No, Monsieur, of course not. It was nothing. I never sought anything from him. I didn’t encourage him, I swear.”

Antoine’s expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes—something dangerous. “And yet, you accepted his gift. You allowed him to think that he could have you. Is that what you want? A simple life with a man who can offer you nothing but bread and flowers?”

You flinched at the harshness of his words, the contempt that dripped from his voice. “No, Monsieur,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I don’t want him… I don’t want anything from him. But I do have desires, like any woman. Desires for a family, a husband to care for, children to raise…”

Your words trailed off as you saw the anger flash in Antoine’s eyes, the tension in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. He stood abruptly, pushing his chair back with a force that made it scrape against the floor, the sound jarring in the quiet of the room. He paced around the desk, coming to a stop in front of you, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over you.

“And you think that baker’s son could give you that?” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You think he could give you a life worth living? A life that I couldn’t provide?”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of the storm of emotions that raged within him. “I… I never said that, Monsieur,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never compared you to him. How could I? You’re a man of status, of power… he’s just a baker’s son.”

“But you did compare us,” Antoine shot back, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You think I don’t know what you’re really saying? You’re telling me that you want a simple life, a life that I can’t give you because I’m not the kind of man who can offer you that. You think you would be happier with him, don’t you?”

“No!” you cried, shaking your head vehemently, tears stinging your eyes as you reached out to him, desperate to make him understand. “No, Monsieur, you’re wrong! I never meant that! I don’t want him—I don’t even know him. I’ve only ever wanted you, even if I know it’s foolish.”

Antoine’s gaze softened ever so slightly at your words, the fury in his eyes dimming as he saw the sincerity in your expression, the desperation in your voice. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped down your face.

“Then why?” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “Why would you talk about desires for a family, for children? Why would you bring that up, knowing full well that I could never give you those things?"

You closed your eyes, the weight of his hand on your cheek grounding you as you tried to find the words to explain the turmoil in your heart. “Because it’s true,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling. “I do have those desires… desires that I know you can’t fulfill. But that doesn’t mean I want anyone else. I don’t want to leave you, Monsieur, but I’m afraid of living a life where I’m always hidden away, always in the shadows. I want more than just stolen moments in the dark. But I know it’s impossible, and that’s what tears me apart.”

Antoine’s expression was one of deep contemplation as he listened to your confession, his hand never leaving your cheek. His anger had subsided, replaced by a sadness that you had never seen in him before—a sadness that spoke of a man who was trapped by his own circumstances, unable to give you what you longed for, no matter how much he might want to.

“I’m a selfish man,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve taken you for myself, knowing full well that I could never give you the life you deserve. I’ve made you my secret, my indulgence, and I’ve kept you in the shadows because that’s where I believed you belonged. But hearing you speak of desires that I can’t fulfill… it makes me realize how much I’ve taken from you.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, your heart breaking at the sorrow you saw there. “You haven’t taken anything from me, Monsieur,” you whispered, your hand covering his as it rested on your cheek. “You’ve given me something I never thought I could have—your attention, your desire. Even if it’s not enough, it’s more than I ever imagined. But I’m afraid of losing myself in this, of becoming nothing more than a secret, a shadow.”

Antoine closed his eyes, his breath hitching as he fought to control the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t give you what you want either. I’m bound by my status, by the expectations of the world I live in. I can’t risk everything for a few moments of happiness.”

You felt a pang of sadness in your chest as his words confirmed what you had always known deep down—that there could never be a future for you with Antoine, not in the way you desired. But even as you accepted this painful truth, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away from him, to sever the bond that had formed between you.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “But I don’t know how long I can live like this, always yearning for something more, something that I know I can never have.”

Antoine’s grip on your cheek tightened ever so slightly, as if he was afraid that you would slip away from him, disappear into the night like a dream that could never be recaptured. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, almost desperate kiss, as if he was trying to convey all the things he could never say.

When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with a deep, abiding sorrow, the weight of his own choices pressing down on him like a leaden shroud. “I wish things could be different,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. “But they can’t be. You deserve more than I can give you… but I’m too selfish to let you go."

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to him, the warmth of his body the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. “Then don’t let me go,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet desperation. “Keep me close, even if it’s just for a little while longer. I’ll take whatever you can give me, even if it’s not enough.”

Antoine’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he buried his face in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m not worthy of you,” he murmured, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. “But I’ll be damned if I let anyone else have you. You’re mine, and I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

You clung to him, your heart aching with the knowledge that you were both trapped in a web of your own making, bound by desires that could never be fully satisfied. But even as you accepted this painful truth, you knew that you couldn’t let go of him, not yet. The bond between you was too strong, too powerful to be severed so easily.

And so, you remained in his arms, the two of you locked in a silent embrace, each of you grappling with the impossible choices that lay before you. The world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the struggles of two souls caught in a dance of desire and regret.

But for now, in the quiet of Antoine’s study, with the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls, you were his, and he was yours, if only for a little while longer. And in that fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that it was enough.

Translation:

Monsieur - Sir

Nous avons eu une journée tellement amusante! Il y avait tellement de choses à voir au marché aujourd'hui. - We had such a fun day! There were so many things to see at the market today.

Papa - Daddy

Mademoiselle - Miss

Ma chérie - My darling

[badgers-and-cats]

hello love i recently read your sirius fic and it was really great^-^ and now i would like go ask (if you’re comfortable with it) older remus lupin x younger reader ,who are secretly invloded with each other, and they’re at an order meeting and she keeps teasing him subtly and he can only take so much 🤭 and then after the order he grabs her and he pulls her into a room and then you know smut ensues

would be great but if you can’t right that’s alright too thanks anyway🤭🤭

Pretty Dove (Remus Lupin x reader)

Masterlist

AFAB reader

Warnings: age gap (everyone is of age - reader is in early to mid 20’s). Unprotected PIV. Blowjob. Feminine pet names MDNI!!! (Let me know if I forgot anything!!)

A/N: Aaa thank you my lovely, I’m glad you enjoyed the Sirius fic!!! Hope you like this one just as much❤️ sending lots and lots of love❤️

Also wasn’t really sure how to end this! So apologies if the ending isn’t great

No matter how hard you tried to get his attention, he just wouldn’t look at you. The entire meeting, which had reached the half hour mark now, you had received a maximum of 2 looks from him, and one of those times was because he was talking to the group.

You understood your relationship with the older man was a secret. The past 4 months had been spent sneaking about, only getting to spend time together when nobody else was around. Only being about to touch him and to be touched when you were 100% certain you wouldn’t be disturbed or caught.

But the last time you had a moment alone was a whole 12 days ago, (but who’s counting, right?) and you were getting desperate. Especially when he wouldn’t even look at you. From the outside, it was like you were just acquaintances, colleagues even.

You were fed up of being ignored. So, you acted on an idea you had thought of. It was risky, but you were confident you wouldn’t get caught.

His demeanour changed, when he feels your fingers running up his thigh. Still, he doesn’t look at you. But it’s obvious your small action is affecting him. What else could you get away with, you wonder.

With no warning, your hand touches his hardening cock through his pants. He snaps his head at you, gaining himself a few funny looks from other members of the order. You smile softly at him, an innocent, friendly, act in the eyes of everybody else; but you and he know differently.

He knew that he couldn’t do much, even if your relationship was knowledgeable to the order; this was still a risky move. Instead, he gives you a stern look as he looks the other way.

The meeting lasts another 15 minutes. Remus leaves almost instantly, looking at you as to say ‘follow me.’ You leave a moment later, following him into an empty drawing room upstairs.

The second the door is closed, your back is pushed up against it.

“What is the matter with you today?” He asks, one hand on your hip and the other placed on the door at the side of your head.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Remus,” you smirk, running your hands down his chest, smiling up at him softly.

“You know exactly what I mean, dove,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth, pulling away before you could respond,

“Remus, please,” you’re starting to beg. But you cannot ignore your heat begging for his touch any more. He just smiles at you softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Luckily for you, he had been longing for your touch - his hand just didn’t compare.

“I need you to be quiet for me, pretty dove. Can’t have anyone catching us, can we?” He asks. You don’t even have the chance to fully process what he had said, but that doesn’t matter anymore. His soft lips are a contrast to the bruising force and description of the kiss.

He runs his tongue over your lips, before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, earning a soft moan from your swollen lips.

“I love you so much, pretty girl. Missed you so much,” he groans, kissing you before you could answer - swirling his tongue around yours as he pushes you further against the door.

“Mhm Rem,” his name rolls off of your tongue effortlessly, almost as effortlessly as his hand made its way to the top of your head as you make your way to your knees, palming his bulge when you get there.

“Go on, pretty dove. Show me how much you missed me,” he says, gently and lovingly moving your hair out of your face as you undo his belt - taking down his pants and boxers.

Usually, you would tease. But after so long with no touches, you elect to get straight to it - Remus is delighted for this decision, you knew from his satisfied sigh when his member enters your warm mouth.

You bobbed your head along his length, it hitting the back of your throat with every bob. His hand has made a made shift ponytail, helping you to move along his length, as well with the occasional thrust of his hips.

You’d be lying if you said you wasn’t enjoying this as much as he was - the wetness between your legs proving that. Like he read your mind, he gently pulled your mouth off his member, your lips darkened and wet with saliva.

“Need to feel you. Wanna be inside you,” he begs. He helps you strip quickly - lining himself up with your heat. Rubbing his head through your slick, he pushes just his head into your wetness.

He groans at the sensation of finally being inside you after almost 2 weeks, resting his head in the crook of your neck - kissing it gently.

“Please, wanna feel you all,” you whine, hands playing with the hair on the back of his neck, as you kiss the top of his head. Pushing into you more until he bottoms out, now balls deep inside you, it takes him a moment to ground himself after feeling your warmth and wetness around his aching member.

After a few moments, he starts moving his hips - every one coming in faster and harder than the last. You’re holding onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He has one hand caressing your face, thumb running up and down your cheek lovingly, the other against the door behind you.

“Oh fuck, oh, yes, fuck yes, there, just like that, fuck,” you moan, attempting to not be too loud, as his thrusts somehow becomes rougher as he bites your neck lovingly.

“Ssh, quiet dove, don’t want anyone catching us do we? Not after all this time,” he whispers - unable to keep his own moans down.

You knew you wouldn’t last long, “can I- fuck,” you couldn’t even finish your question - feeling his dick hit your cervix with every thrust.

“Yes, I’m close too, cum for me gorgeous girl,” he says, before stilling his hips, filling you up with his cum, as you soak his dick in your juices.

He pulls out after a minute, you while slightly at the loss of contact. With a gentle kiss on the lips, he says “I love you. I’m so sorry for not giving you the attention you deserve.”

“That’s okay, handsome. You can ignore me more often if that’s how I’ll get fucked afterwards,” you smirk, holding his face in your hands, kissing him again, “and I love you too,” you smile.

After getting dressed again, and a handful of more stolen kisses, you both leave the drawing room, hoping to remain undetected. That is, until you come to face to face with Fred and George Weasley.

“Afternoon,” they both smirk, before walking away.

“I wonder what they’ll want in return for them to not tell everyone,” you joke.

[typicalopposite]

Thanks @priincebutt for the tag 🫶

slowly making my way through chapter 7! 🫠 sorry this has become my whole personality lately 😂 this is my main fic at the moment!

“Kinard!” Captain Collier calls from his office, nearly causing Tommy to drop the laptop he has meticulously balanced on his (extremely, dreadfully, embarrassingly) large belly. He has long since been able to comfortably do anything at his desk— the bump getting in the way, and sitting at an angle hurts his constantly aching back— so he has been using the bump instead… God knows it sticks out far enough anyway. He lifts the laptop off, and sets it on the table; crumbs from the bag of chips he was eating topple from his shirt to the floor when he stands. He frowns at the mess and grabs the broom he keeps close by (this happens often) and sweeps them into a pile. “Tommy?” Collier repeats softer this time, poking his head out of his office. 

“Uh, come— coming Cap!” He tries in vain to bend and reach the dustpan. He holds on to the desk for support but he feels like he’s going to tumble forward every time he starts to lower himself. Then he sits back down and tries again… still with no success; he even tries to flip it onto the broom and balance it up to the desk.

“Let me,” Collier says, now beside him. He takes the broom then bends down and sweeps the crumbs into the dustpan. After he throws the crumbs away he straightens back up and sits on the edge of Tommy’s desk. “Tommy…” he says again, and just from the look on his face, Tommy already knows what he’s about to say. “Listen. I know you want to work up until you deliver, but I really think it’s time.” Tommy can feel his mouth pulling down and Collier sighs.  “Hey… come on, don’t do that.” 

Tommy is trying desperately not to humiliate himself by ‘doing that’— i.e. crying— but it has gotten so much harder lately. He feels huge, and heavy, and tired, and sore all the time! All that meshes together and has made him somehow even more emotional. 

“What did you do to him, Cap!?” Lucy gasps, walking into the hanger. 

Collier sucks at his teeth and pushes off the desk. “I didn’t do anything but suggest he make these last weeks easier on himself.” 

“Well,” Lucy says… more so to Tommy. 

“Not you too, Luce?!” Tommy feels his pout deepen. 

Lucy laughs, and comes up behind him, squeezing and massaging his shoulders before wrapping her arms around him. “Don’t get me wrong, work will suck without you, and I am going to miss you so much; I don’t want you to leave…” she says. “I just want you to get some rest… you know the whole cliche you better sleep while you can because you won’t once baby is here— except you’re gonna have two babies keeping you up, and I honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve come to work and not looked exhausted… you’re overdue for some rest.”

Tommy would argue, except he knows he can’t; she’s right. The twins are growing beautifully, which makes him so happy and relieved… and massive, and miserable. He isn’t upset at the weight he’s gained, he is confident in himself enough to know he can lose it once they're born (and honestly even if he doesn’t lose a single pound, he is so happy both babies are healthy and thriving he wouldn’t care). However, he’s not been allowed to lift above his head since he announced the pregnancy, and getting something from lower than his waist at this point is damn near impossible. Lacey says he shouldn’t be carrying anything more than 15 pounds; and between the twins using his bladder and his lower spine for kickboxing practice, he is either in the bathroom or pacing the hanger trying to ease the back pain. 

He’s exhausted from the lack of sleep the pain is causing, and he needs help doing pretty much anything that’s not sitting and typing, and that is not something they even need him at the station to do. Collier has been trying to convince him to work from home for a couple months… Tommy’s just— Hell even he’s not a hundred percent sure why he’s holding on to working for so long… He looks past Collier and Lucy at the helicopter’s, and he can’t even fly at the moment, but it’s been nice being near them. Watching them take off, watching them come back… he misses it. He’s going to miss this, and his team. “You’re probably right…” he finally admits. “I guess I should take advantage of the last few weeks of calm.” 

Lucy smiles, and hugs him. “Good for you; you have more than earned a break,” she says squeezing him. “I’m gonna miss you, Kinard.” 

“I’ll miss you too, Luce,” he replies, voice soft and shaky. 

“Hey,” she says, pulling back to wipe the tears that are starting to fall from both their eyes. “This is not a forever goodbye, okay? I am going to come by and get my baby fix every day I have off… you’re gonna be so tired of me!” 

“Never,” he laughs.

Tagging: @onthewaytosomewhere @30somethingautisticteacher @judymarch15 @nine-one-wanton

@bidisasterevankinard @kinardsevan @somethingaboutfirefly @bucksxkinard @mmso-notlikethat

@sunnywithachanceofbi @herrmannhalsteadproduction @marvelousbuckley

And anyone else who wants to share their writing 🫶🫶

[missisjoker]

A prompt?

A prompt.

Jacaereys travels to Kinglands to celebrate his grandsire's name day with a royal hunt. It's a dreadfully boring affair until Jace hears rumors that there's a direwolf roaming in the forests and goes to investigate.

He ends up face-to-face with the dire wolf because, apparently, the humongous mountain of a wolf can sneak up on people like a cat. The wolf doesn't hurt him; just looks at him with eyes color of molten valyrian steel, huffs, and tracks back into the forest.

A few moments later Jace hears a trap shut and wolf howling in pain; and runs toward him. Keeps saying I'm trying to help, please don't eat me. The wolf growls- a deep, rumbling sound that Jace feels in his bones, but doesn't snap at Jace. The trap breaks the same moment someone calls out for Jace- and the wolf is gone in an instant.

The next day, Jacaerys trails off from the hunting party, lost in thought, perhaps hoping to glimpse the wolf again - when he is attacked by 3 cutthroats. He manages to bring down one of them, but the other two push him to the ground and slash his arm from palm to elbow. He feels the cold blade tickle his throat when men's laughter turns into screams and then gargles. The direwolf nudges him to sit down and licks his bleeding arm, stopping the blood flow. Jace tries to find his way back, but his horse bolts, and the sky is dark with a gathering storm. He shakily tracks to a hunter's cabin nearby, the wolf tailing him. The cabin is just big enough for them two, and eventually, Jace stretches on the floor and falls into a restless sleep, with the wolf curling next to him.

When Jace wakes up, he is warm and cozy, but there's a human form next to him- a big, naked man nuzzling into the back of his neck.

He jerks awake and so does the man. Jace tries to hit him with something - anything- and get away- but the man is too fast and too strong, and pins Jace down. Jace tries to bite him, but the man kisses him. Which startles both Jace and the offender- and the man starts apologizing.

Jace gives him an opportunity to explain while pointing at him with a sword (he’s sure sword won’t do him any good, but at least it distracts him from ogling the man’s beautiful and very naked body).

The man - Cregan Stark - says he is a skin changer, something that runs in his family. Was betrayed and usurped by his uncle who somehow locked him in the wolf form. He’s been desperately trying to return for months, but couldn’t - until Jaces blood broke the curse.

Jace refuses to believe him until Cregan’s eyes flash the same molten Valyrian steel color.

Once Cregan puts on some clothes, Jace asks him of his plans. Offers to go with him on a dragon to remove his uncle from the seat in Winterfell- but Cregan refuses. Says, if he is to control the north, he will have to do it himself.

Jace asks if Cregan is sure he won’t get locked into a dire wolf form again- and Cregan says no, he only got blindsided because he trusted his family, but he will not make the same mistake again.

They part ways with Jace’s wish of good luck and a promise to visit Cregan once he retakes Winterfell.

Jace is sure he will see him again- after all, Cregan owes him a debt; he stole a kiss from him, and Jace will be sure to collect.

[fmle-drven]

Ghost x f!reader roommates

Something random and simple. I hope yall enjoy.

Imagine being woken up to a soft knock at your bedroom door. You look over at your phone, it’s 3 am. It’s not usual for Simon to be up this late, but it is unusual for him to wake you.

You get up and slowly make your way to the door. Turning the knob and cracking the door ever so slightly. You are met with a sleepy Simon, one of his burly arms propped against the door frame. His hand framing the top of his face as his chin is tucked downward to look at you. The soft glow of your TV caress his features. Capturing every curve, contour and glimmer in his muddy eyes. You stare up at him, rubbing the sleepy out of one eye. Keeping one eye on his.

“Si, what’s wrong?” You ask. Your voice lowered in tone as your sleepy hazy mind slowly awakes.

“I thought you still up and I-“ Simon stops mid sentence. His hand leaving his forehead as he stands straight up.

Confusion over takes your face, suddenly you are awake. What could be wrong? Something must be wrong.

“Simon, seriously what’s wrong?” Your ask, voice laced with concern as you stiffen and tilt your head.

Simon stands tall with one hand placed in the door. He slowly starts to push your door open.

“Y/N…… is that my shirt?” He asks. One eyebrow cocked and a smirk slowly forming on his lips.

Your eyes widen like a deer in the headlights. There you stood, in Simon’s shirt. In only Simon’s shirt.

“Well I- I- I found it in my laundry and I was going to-“ you try to stumble out some form of excuse as you have been caught red handed.

You have one of Simon’s shirts to sleep in and have been hiding it for months. Yes, you had undeniable feelings for your roommate. Your incredibly attractive, sweet, caring, manly roommate. But taking his shirt was more of a comfort thing. On those nights where you felt so alone. You would always wear Simon’s shirt to bed as it felt like he was right there holding you in his large embrace.

Yes, He too had undeniable feelings for you as well. His beautiful, smart, warm-hearted, golden lighted roommate. Seeing you wear his shirt was something out of one of his day dreams. The shirt so large on your small frame, exposing your perfect legs, your hair in a messy bun, and sleep over taking those gorgeous eyes.

“It’s ok love, keep it. You can come steal my clothes anytime. Go back to sleep now” he chuckled as he leaned in, gripping the back of your neck and laid a tender kiss on top of your head.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you were so embarrassed. Eyes still wide from being caught, as well as the shock of Simon touching you. He’s never laid a kiss upon you nor has he even grazed your fingertips in passing. He was always just the roommate.

Pulling away from your tiny body, he gave you a devilish smile and a wink before disappearing into the dark hallway to his room. You were frozen in your spot, door still wide open. You hear his shut and a subtle “I said go to bed, my love” from the other side of the wall. His voice deep and husky, it made you jump a little .

With your lips still parted in shock, you scramble to shut the door and scurry to bed. Heart beating out of your chest and in between your thighs. How ever will you face him at breakfast in the morning? How do I get Simon’s lips back on me?

[demonsslayersstuff]

Goodbye (Gojo x Reader)

A/N: This a reposting. I was having some issues with my blog for the past few weeks, so I will be doing some reposting.

A/N: I’m in a Gojo mood apparently. Anyway Jujitsu Kaisen Manga Spoilers, so keep that in mind before reading. Bit angsty cause I’m just in that mood. Thanks for reading! As I’ve said before I’ve been having a bit of a writers block so I’m not sure when I’ll post again, but I’m leaning towards Demon Slayer for the next one.

The room was silent that morning. Aside from the steady breathing off to your left, there was no noise. You glance at the clock and your heart freezes at the date, December 24th. It was the day you had dreaded for the past month.

But time moved forward as it always does, no matter how much you pleaded to a nonexistent god to stop it. You can feel tears gather in your eyes, but you push them away. You had already said your goodbyes last night, mapped out each other’s bodies for the most likely the last time.

You hear a deep intake of breath and know that he’s waking up. Gojo’s blue eyes open and lock onto your own. The two of you stare at each for a moment as the reality of what day it was washes over him. “Love”, he starts but you shake your head. “Please, I don’t want to cry, not now”, you tell him quietly. He hums in response before moving to kiss you deeply, arms wrapping tightly around you, crushing you against him.

The two of you dress quietly, preparing for what was about to happen. You look out the window and briefly wonder if this will be the last morning you’ll ever get to spend in this room. You watch as a bird flies past the window before you feel Gojo wrap his arms around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I never appreciated this view as much as I should have”, he murmurs against your neck.

You turn around to fully face him, knowing it was going to be last time the two of you spent alone together. “Satoru”, you start quietly. He looks down at you, giving a soft smile of encouragement. “Words can’t describe the happiness you have given me. I just want you to know that…no matter what happens, I will always love you”, you tell him. His eyes soften and he pulls you into a tight embrace. He holds you in his arms before there’s a light tap on the door.

He cups your cheek, “It’s time”, he simply says. You greet Utahime at the door, before the three of you begin the descent down the stares. Your students and various sorcerers look up at you and Gojo, empathy and respect reflected in their eyes. Yuji is the first to break the tension, “Sensei, your technique is in the way”, he shouts. You watch as Gojo gives him a large smile before he says , “Give it your best shot”, with a smile on his face. He always put his students needs first.

Everyone makes the trek into the city as silence befalls the group. The full weight of what was about to happen evident on everyone’s faces. You watch as Gojo goes to stand with Ijichi, Utahime, and Gakunganji. The time was finally here. You walk up to Gojo for the finale time, staring up into his eyes as tears gather in your eyes. The others look away, giving you a bit of privacy. You feel Gojo’s fingers brush the tears away that silently fall on your cheek.

“You have what I gave you in case I-“, he starts but you cut him off, not wanting to hear those words fall from his lips. “Yes”, you say, voice cracking. “I love you, I will always love you. I will find you again if I have to, I promise”, Gojo says, voice full of emotion. You nod your head before he pulls you into a crushing kiss. You thread your fingers through his hair, as his hands grip your waist tightly.

He ends the kiss after someone coughs politely, but you don’t let him go just yet.  You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “Get our son back”, you tell him before letting him go. You see determination flash across his face. “I will”, Gojo says before he kisses you one finale time.

You watch as the group takes the stairs to the top of the building. Gojo pauses at the top for just a moment before turning to look at you. He gives you his signature smile and a second later he’s gone. “Goodbye Toru”, you whisper before heading to join the others as the battle begins.

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

Brief Little Drabble

Mabel you've made me want to do something again. How dare you/lh

Mabel -- @drifting-stars-mabel Dipper -- @drifting-stars-dipper (me actually, go check it out) McGucket -- @it-is-unseen (sorry for the ping i just got inspired)

Dipper's not sure why he's running or why his heart is beating so fast. He's panicking, and it's a familiar feeling at this point, spurred on by months of wandering the multiverse, months of seeing horrible things and not sleeping due to the pervasive nightmares.

But whatever he's running towards is worse, and he can't explain why it is, but he also can't shake the feeling.

Mabel, Mabel, Mabel, some part of his brain is whispering, the part that tells him when there's a monster behind him or when he's going to have a particularly bad nightmare. Mabel, Mabel, Mabel. She's in danger, isn't she? She has to be. He wouldn't be able to hear his heartbeat in his head if she wasn't.

And she's been so bad recently. So stressed and uncomfortable. She won't tell him what's wrong and it hurts because even if she says she trusts him, it doesn't feel like she does. It briefly crosses his head that she's protecting him, but he shakes that thought away. It's not that it's wrong - it's that he can't afford distractions right now.

The communicator in his vest screeches with feedback, and he follows it, turning it down slightly as it gets louder and louder, more staticky and more staticky, more and more persistant and keeps just getting loude-

Mabel.

She's standing in front of a man who looks like Fiddleford McGucket when he was younger. On the memories they watched. He's holding the memory gun to her head.

"Ready to forget, little lady?" he's asking, and Dipper's running, he's pushing himself as hard as he can go.

Mabel swallows audibly, or maybe she doesn't and he's just imagining it based on the little lump in her throat and the minute bob of her head. Her hands are shaking so badly he can see it as he runs towards her.

"Y-yeah. I think I-"

"MABEL," he's screaming, wedging his body between her and the young man McGucket, batting the gun away with one hand. His chest is facing her and he turns slightly to fix McGucket with a glare with all the rage in his tiny little body. So, so tiny, so helpless, so pathetic.

"Dipper?" Mabel asks, her voice breaking in a way that her voice never does. "W-what are you doing?"

"What am I doing? Mabel, what are you doing? That's the memory gun. Were you really gonna go behind my back like that? Just wipe your memory?"

"Dipper, you weren't supposed to be here, I-"

"

I wasn't supposed to be here? Oh, so you're upset at me for stopping you from wiping your memory? Mabel you know what that thing does to people. You were there when we got McGucket's memories back. That- that thing drives people insane! It does the same thing that drugs in movies always do. Do you wanna end up like Old Man McGucket? Mabel, I-I can't believe you. You went behind my back to do this. To wipe your memories. Would it have stopped here?"

"What are you-"

"Would you have just wiped this? Would you have wiped something else next?"

"No, Dip-dop, I was just gonna wipe this one thing."

"Oh, really? And you wouldn't wipe anything else? Bill possessing me? Gideon kidnapping you in a giant robot? Anything?"

"No, really."

"I don't believe you."

"Dipper, you don't understand," she pleads, her voice cracking. "I'm a wreck over this. I-I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can barely think." She lifts her shaking hands. "I'm a mess, Dipper, I need this. I just, I just need it this once. You don't understand what I've been through, what I'm struggling with."

"I don't understand? Mabel, I've seen shit too," he says, cursing without even thinking. Her eyes go wide but she doesn't stop him. "Do you know what I've been through? I haven't slept in literal months. Sure, I've tried, but that's no excuse for actually doing it. Mabel, I can't even touch you without being terrified you'll turn to bugs in my hands."

His hands shake as he lifts them, nearly as much as hers do, and a flash of panic rushes through him, the intrinsic fear of her dissolving into a mass of wriggling creatures, writhing in his hands.

He grabs her shoulders, holding her arms as steady as his own trembling ones can manage.

"We're both suffering, Mabel. I may not know what you're going through, but I can. I can learn. I can listen. Just- just tell me, Mabes. Let me into your messed up head."

"I..." she glances behind him, and belatedly he remembers that he shoved McGucket to the side to get to her. He glances at him to see McGucket with his arms crossed, tapping one finger on the memory gun.

"Are y'all done yet?" He makes a pointed expression. "I offered to help, not watch whatever this slop was. Little lady, do y'all want yer memory wiped or not?"

"I..." she glances back at Dipper. He's so close to her, and it's terrifying him but he does nothing but hold her closer.

Mabel stops shaking.

"Thanks for offering, Mr. McGucket. I... I think..." she takes a deep breath in. Her arms wrap around Dipper and he's so happy she's chosen him.

Then she's pulling him to her chest, one hand on the back of his head.

"I think you should do us both."

The memory gun hurts. He forgets it in seconds.

[tendersugarx]

Ask the Angels

tomas vrbada x f!reader nsfw and when he breathes, he looks for you

it’s  just that you’re not only obsessed, you’re hungry. and it’s a different kind of hunger where the slightest sign of affection will have you throwing yourself on top of him, claws out to make sure he’s marked. he’s always stunned at how much you want it, how much you want him, how  much you want his cock. it drives him insane, makes him hold you from behind, press his body against yours. ‘if you love it so fucking much,  you can have it every day’ he says, salivating because one hand is holding your waist and the other is pushing your panties to the side, the rosy cotton ones he loves so much, and you’re wet, god you’re so wet for him. if this had been the first time during the day he would find it cute, charming, lovely. he’s the one doing this to you. but this isn’t the first time, it’s the sixth time in the span of 4 hours. he’s given you so much, made you come so good---a few times using only his tongue---and now you’re once again luring him to you as if  you’re made of siren’s curse. he holds his cock by the base, teases your entrance, slides it between your folds. he’s so sensitive, you’re so sensitive, everything is spinning. ‘please please please please please--’ ‘i’m here, i’m here, i’ve got you, sweetheart.’ and he pushes in with one hard stroke, so hard it jolts you upwards for a split second. he wastes no time, there’s no room for delicacy right now,  he fucks you hard and fast with no breaks, he needs this too, he needs it as much as you do because otherwise he’ll cease to exist. he knows, logically, that’s not true, the rational part of his brain still functions (yours is long gone) but it’s what it feels like. that if he doesn’t have you over and over he’ll never have you again. you’re such a good thing, the greatest gift he’s gotten over the last few months. being cooked up here with you, hiding for a bit, disappearing to everyone else---he's on a hunt, to his clan, he's on a hunt. and that's not really a lie, is it? you present yourself like prey, you melt in his hand, his kisses are hard and candy-like, his teeth sink into your skin and he draws the tiniest bit of blood, licks it clean again and again. god, he’s  so good, sliding in and out of you, he’s come inside you three times, the rest you asked for it in your mouth, asked because you wanted his taste, wanted to see his eyes rolling to the back of his head, to feel his fingers tangling in your hair as your urged him to fuck your mouth. and now now now god now you want it back inside of your cunt, you feel so full already, such a mess, you ask for it so sweetly. he chokes on a moan at the request, his heart is beating so fast, sweat covered skin and damp hair, eyes sparkling, lips used and swollen from your kisses. “i said i’d give it to you, didn’t i?’ ‘you did,’ you say, out of breath. ‘i’ll  come inside you, sweetheart, you feel how hard i am, how close i am,  i’m fucking throbbing inside of you and you--fuck---you squeeze me so  tight--- ‘ he’s rambling away in your ear, sweet nothings, he’s admitting to so many things, he’s picking up the pace and thrusting into you like his life depends on it and it probably does. one particular angled thrust takes you there, makes you clench down on him  and scream a silent scream, head tipped back almost touching his chest.  he gets louder, even faster, he’s coming too, he’s coming so  fucking hard and pressing you against that wall and he’s, he’s--

‘fuck yeah, like that, come on my cock, come on my fucking cock, fuck fuck fuck i love you, i love you so much---’ you’d barely picked up on his previous ramblings but these words register perfectly, seep inside your skin, into your bloodstream. this is what makes you blush. not the fact that he's been fucking you against the wall so hard you scratch at the wallpaper to keep yourself steady, no, no, what makes you blush is the softness of his confession. the euphoria of hearing him like this, usually so well spoken and polite, losing control to the point of uttering such secrets. when you’re both standing still, panting, trying to recover, his forehead pressed against the back of your head, you think he’s choosing to believe you didn’t hear his words. but you did. ‘i love you, too.’ ‘you do?’ you nod, turning around to face him, to nudge against his face like a cat trying to leave your scent on him. your knees buckle but he holds you. ‘with all i have.’ he smiles. ‘me too. with all i have, i mean, i love you. i want you.’ ‘i’m here.’ "promise?’ ‘i would never stray. not from you.’

[honey-skulls]

How the fuck am i supposed to focus on my finals when my dad got brainwashed into a cult, started slowly cutting me away, and i now officially got kicked out of my home

[girlcrushau]

[bxtonpxss]