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satorusugurugurl · 3 months ago

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Teasing JJK Men With a Popsicle

Summary: When the sun is hot, you cool off with a tasty ocy treat! While also teasing your boyfriend.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU), AFAB!Reader

Warnings: suggestiveness, food play?? language, kissing, teasing, mock blowjobs, smutty-esque

Word Count: 5,5k

A/N: this is another poll prompt I did awhile back! I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things now that my writers block is gone! Enjoy!!

Gojo Satoru:

“Good mornin—ooh—” Shoko held her cigarette between her teeth, watching you boil with anger. “Not a good morning?” she asked, cockimg a brow as you plopped down on the bench next to her.

“It would’ve been if it wasn’t for Gojo.”

“Yikes, using your boyfriend‘s last name. What did he do to piss you off??

“It’s on the lines of what he ‘didn’t do.’” Your best friend took a long drag and blew the smoke above her head.

“I’m going to regret asking this, but what happened?”

The morning has started with the potential of being a great day. Gojo had you on top of him, rocking your hips against his morning wood, getting you all riled up before he broke the kiss. He quickly got out of bed, claiming that he needed to get ready for the meeting, which you knew was a crock of shit, but instead of calling him out, you made the mistake of joining him in the shower. He had you pinned against the wall, pressing between your legs, teasing your pussy before pulling away the second you began grinding down on him. It was painfully clear your asshole of a boyfriend decided to edge you all fucking morning. Once you made this discovery, you did your best to avoid him and his seductive advances.

But avoiding him was easier said than done.

On the ride to school, his fingers teased your inner thighs, rubbing the skin gently. When you finally made it to work, he cornered you in a classroom, rubbing himself over the fat of your ass. Gojo had woken up and chose violence this morning, and you were his victim.

“I’m seriously about to ask Yaga to send me off to supervise a mission or something to get me away from him.”

The only reason you were able to maintain some form of composure was all thanks to the first year’s training session Gojo was instructing. You had an hour to try to calm yourself down to get through the rest of the day, but knowing Gojo, he wouldn’t make the rest of the day easy. No amount of time would prepare you for the relentless torture. That was sure to ensue the second he got back from his lesson.

Shoko blew out another cloud, cupping some dark hair behind her ear. “Your solution is simple.” You stared blankly at your best friend. “You tease the bastard back.” Part of you jumps eagerly at the idea of switching the playing field. Part of you began cooking up all sorts of plots to invoke your revenge. The other half of you pouts, sinking slowly further down the bench.

“Yeah, and how do you suggest I do that? The last time I checked, he’s a giant who is untouchable. Even if I tried grinding against him, all he needed to do was put up his infinity.”

“You don’t have to grind on him to tease him. I’m a lesbian, and even I know that.”

“Then what do I do?”

Shoko put her cigarette out before gently grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the teacher's lounge. “We just need to make a quick stop at the kitchen.”

Gojo sighed as he watched the first-years brawl with the second-years. This was far less entertaining than teasing you had been. Seeing your pretty skin flush before you sighed in annoyance was his fuel for the day. Teasing you was just too easy. But he fully intended to make all the teasing worthwhile once you got home.

He just wanted to go as fast as he could to get back to said teasing. “Hey.” Never mind the waiting; it seemed as though some other almighty power had answered his prayers. You had been summoned near his side, practically begging to be teased! You were like a moth to the glowing flame that was his stature.

“Hey sweetie, what do you say we blow this popsicle stand and head to the sh-h-he—!!”

Gojo’s flawless Ivory skin flushed a crimson red when he turned his attention to you. Your pretty lips were sealed around a popsicle, sucking it as if it was his dick. Cheeks were hollowed, and your eyes narrowed as you watched his lips quiver under the shock of seeing you in such a promiscuous state. Once you were sure his attention was focused solely on you, your head began bobbing, taking more of (him) the popsicle into your mouth with a fucking moan. That sound alone should be reserved for him and his dick only, not some popsicle. Why the fuck was he getting insanely jealous over a sweet?!

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Cooling off?” You say, finally pulling off the cream-colored icy treat

Satoru scoffed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other to distract himself from his tightening pants. But nothing truly seemed to help because all he could focus on was how pretty your lips looked wrapped around your frozen popsicle. While he was suffering, you reveled in the satisfaction and the sweet taste of revenge.

“Baby, come on, don’t do this to me.” He complained, watching you take the whole length into your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” You swirl your tongue around the tip. “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for what, Toru?” You asked, popping the popsicle back into your mouth

“I’m sorry for teasing you, okay?!”

Your lips together, humming thoughtfully as you tapped your index finger against your chin. “I guess you seem like you mean it.” Satoru nodded, fluffy tufts of white hair moving with his every move. “But that still doesn’t make what you did right, so no, I won’t stop.” Your boyfriend let out a pained moan as you returned to enjoying your frozen treat.

“Sweetie, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” Your cheeks hollowed as you suck the tip hard.

“Yes, anything!”

You hummed again, pulling off the tip. “You’re going to let me ride you tonight. And I will edge until I see tears in those blue eyes.”

Gojo scoffed, bending down slightly and getting in your face. “You say that as if it’s a punishment.” You focused on his blindfold as you pulled off the popsicle.

“Wanna bet?”

“Oh, please, like you riding me is a punish—” For an instant, Gojo waited, thinking that maybe you were going to have some smart retort to shoot back at him. But instead, you bit the tip of the popsicle off with your teeth with an aggressive snarl.

With pure satisfaction, you watched your boyfriend's hands shoot down his crotch. Where he covered his now soft cock. His jaw went slack as eyebrows twitched from underneath his blindfold, clearly pained by your actions. You smiled before patting him on the shoulder and turning to walk back towards the school with a sway in your hips. One that generally left him eager to get home, but this time, it sent pinpricks down his spine.

“Can’t wait to get home and teach you a thing or two!”

While the strongest sorcerer of the modern age watched, you saunter off. He was beginning to realize just how badly he had fucked up. And he was not looking forward to what you had planned for him. Okay, maybe he was a little excited.

Geto Suguru:

It wasn’t your fault. You had done nothing to deserve the sex ban your boyfriend had put you on. You may have fallen through a second-story window after purposely ignoring his warnings. And it may have been a fall that had resulted in you needing twenty stitches, but that didn’t mean he needed to withhold sex from you.

Normally when shit like this happened, the outcome either resulted and you were getting lectured or getting spanked, which wasn’t ordinarily bad at all. But seeing that this was your fifth injury in three weeks, Suguru decided to take a different approach to teach you a lesson, and it was a lesson that was working, much to your dismay.

This punishment was beginning to eat you alive.

You could live without sex for a week, but two weeks should be considered torture. To make matters worse, any attempts you had made to push Suguru to break the stupid ban himself had gone unnoticed, unbothered, and irritated you beyond all means. You were utterly desperate to get dick down by your fantastic boyfriend, but you still had another four days to go before the ban was up.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

You hummed as you stood at the end of an alley, looking back at your boyfriend, who used his curse technique on the curse you had been fighting into a ball. Suguru rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead, wiping away the sweat that coated his brow. It was a hot one in downtown Tokyo, but you had the perfect way to cool off! One that was sure to ignite the flames of passion deep inside Suguru’s chest.

“Okay,” Suguru said softly as walking towards the entrance of the alley where you were waiting for him, “I just need to swallow, and then we can get back to Jujutsu High. I was thinking maybe we could—” your boyfriend, paused, looking up from the cursed spirit in his palm, watching as you slowly run your tongue along the underside of a popsicle. “When did you have time to grab that?”

“Right when you started working your magic!” Your tongue stained a fluorescent red as the taste of cherry washed over your taste buds. “This cute little shop had them right by the door! Works out perfectly in that summertime Tokyo heat.”

Suguru hummed, eyeing the curse sphere in his hand, bracing himself for what he knew he had to do next. “Would you mind—” he stopped talking as you pushed yourself off the wall, turning to stand before him. You sucked on the cherry popsicle as if it were your boyfriend’s cock. Your cheeks bobbing your head over the sweet, tangy treat, all while maintaining eye contact with your boyfriend. “Princess.”

“Ah~!” you moaned out happily, popping your mouth off the tip of the popsicle. You made sure to lick your lips ever so slowly, hoping they were slightly swollen with all the sucking you had done. “Yes, Suguru~?”

This was it. He would finally break after all of your efforts in the three days! You couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say! Maybe it would be, ‘I can't take this any longer. I need to feel you!’ Or better yet, he might not say anything at all! He might drag you down the dark and take you right there against the brick wall. It would be an adrenaline rush with the prospect of getting caught doing some naughty things in public!

You could feel yourself vibrating with excitement and need. A look that didn’t go unnoticed by your incredibly observant boyfriend. He could see the way that you were pressing your thighs together. Your lips slightly parted at the sound of his voice. And the telltale sign was the fact that your eyes so bluntly focused on his crotch as if you were willing him to get erect. It was almost cute seeing you so eager.

“Make sure there’s no one coming.” The disappointment that flashed across your features like lightning was as clear as a crystal lake. “Go on.”

Your eyebrow twitched with visible anger, and you practically stormed to the end of the alley, looking both ways and ensuring no pedestrians were walking by. “It’s clear.” There was a sour tone to your voice, fully capable of cuddling milk.

“Thank you, darling,” Suguru responded before tilting his head back and popping the curse into his mouth.

The horrendous taste of a rag that was used to wipe up vomit coated his tongue before he was able to swallow the curse down. Once he absorbed the curse, he focused his attention on you to draw away from the horrendous taste that coated his mouth like a film. He usually found himself drawn towards you after he swallowed a curse. You were his anchor, in a way—something to ground himself to without losing himself in the disgusting taste that would drive anyone mad.

Typically, when his dark eyes met yours, he was met with a warm and gentle smile. Only this time, he was met with the burning, lustful gaze as you practically deep-throated a popsicle. Seeing you suck on it before hadn’t been all that distracting, but now that you were getting into it, it was a different story. Your eyes had a far-off gaze as you focused on him. Your head moved up and down over the popsicle, coding it in your saliva as you sucked on it hard.

Seeing you in such a state left Suguru swallowing harder than he had when he swallowed the curse. With each inch you took further into your mouth, you could see a flicker of need in his eyes. This was it—your boyfriend‘s breaking point. Suguru was going to be the one to crash; he was going to be the one to break his ban!

In the blink of an eye, Suguru snarled, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you deeper down the alley. The sudden jerky movement caused you to drop your popsicle, tumbling to the ground and breaking into several uneven pieces. But you didn’t give a fuck about the popsicle! You were more eager to get to be with your boyfriend again finally!

Suguru grabbed both your wrists, pinning them above your head. His lips met yours in a crash of pure, unfiltered need. The man didn’t even give you a chance to fully understand what was happening or try to match his pace. One, his lips were slanted against yours, and the next, he was showing his tongue into your mouth without even asking for permission by the tip of his tongue slowly over your bottom lip. You moaned, eyes fluttering shut as you kissed him back, his knee darting between your legs, pressing up against your clothed core.

He pulled away for a moment before slamming his lips back against yours, nearly causing your teeth to clash against each other.his tongue, massage yours, wrapping around the muscle, as you found yourself melting against him, hips, slowly, moving as the taste of cherry slowly enveloped his mouth. His feverish kisses began to cool down as your hips slowly began rocking against his thigh, eager For what else he had to offer you in his alleyway.

But as quickly as the kiss came, it ended. He pulled away, panting heavily as he released his grip on your wrists. You fell forward against his chest, gripping his jacket for support as he removed his knee from between your legs. You were shaking slightly at the arousal that burned through your veins like boiling water. Peering up at your boyfriend, you watched as he licked at the smeared cherry syrup on his lips.

“S-Sugu—what was?!”

“I just had to get the taste of the curse out of my mouth. And since you were so rudely didn’t even offer to get me a popsicle, I decided to make do with what I had. It’s not like Satoru is around to offer me candy. So I decided to taste your popsicle firsthand.”

You felt as though the world was crashing down on you. “I-I—!” Suguru shut his eyes as he tilted his head to the side, smiling softly, which was sinister with what he had just done to you.

“Did you honestly think that was going to break me? Oh, my sweet Princess, you’d have to do a lot more than that.” he wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you down the alleyway back to the bustling streets. “You have four days to go, then we can make up for lost time. But by all means, keep up your technique by sucking more popsicles, it may not break me, but I do enjoy the sight of you sucking on it.”

Needless to say you had learned your lesson. You found that out by yourself right then there, standing in an alley after being twat-blocked your boyfriend who was right. You needed to be more careful on your missions, and you definitely would be more careful from now on. Because your boyfriend was not going to ever break a sex ban.

Nanami Kento:

It was hot, and you felt even hotter in every part of your body. You were sitting on your porch watching your husband mow the grass in your backyard. You had offered to do it earlier this week, but he insisted on taking care of it because of how hot it was. The last thing he wanted was for his beautiful wife to get overheated and possibly suffer the consequences of heat stroke.

At first, you weren’t sure if you were insulted or relieved by his request. You wanted to help with the yard work; you had no problem doing that. But Nanami made you a deal: if you did the laundry, he would ensure the yardwork was done, which didn’t seem that fair of a deal to you. Your washing machine and dryer were inside the comfort of your air-conditioned house while your husband was stuck outside in the heat doing yard work.

After you finished the laundry, you changed into a pair of booty shorts and a tank top, fully motivated to get outside and help him finish the yardwork so the two of you could shower and relax for the evening. But the second Nanami spotted you walking down the steps of the porch, heading towards him, he stopped what he was doing and pointed to the chair that was under the shade.

“My love, it’s too hot for you to be out here. I'm almost done. Take a seat. I can handle it.”

“Kento, if you stop being so stubborn, we could get it done faster!” you pleaded with your husband, crossing your arms over your chest.“Just let me help you with weeding the garden!”

Your husband turned the lawnmower off, using the short brake to wipe the sweat Office face with his dirty shirt. “Sweetpea, I already finished picking the weeds; I watered all the plants; all I need to do now is just mow the lawn. So please take a seat and relax. It won’t take me very long.” You wanted to argue with him to tell him that he was being asinine about the whole situation; that stubborn look in his eyes, however, told you there was no persuading him to stop.

With a side of defeat, you back up the stairs of the porch, flopping your ass down in the lounge chair, looking out at him. Nanami smiled, readjusting his baseball hat with a wink before turning the lawn mower back on. Your husband often called you stubborn, but perhaps he needed to take the time to look in the mirror because he was just as stubborn, if not more stubborn than you.

Was it that bad that you wanted to help him out? It wasn’t as though you were some fragile flower incapable of doing yardwork. If you weren't so angry, you would’ve been able to take the time to enjoy the view in front of you. Your sweaty husband roamed around the yard, ensuring it was pristine. Sweat ran down his neck, biceps, and face, making him look as though he was some sort of Greek god.

But he was being childish at the current moment.

Clearly, trying to be an adult and offer your assistance to him wasn’t going to help, and talking to him about trying to persuade him to let you help wasn’t going to work either. There wasn’t much more you could do. Once your husband has made a decision, he typically sticks with it.

But there was one thing even the Nanami Kento couldn't resist on a hot day like this! You hopped out of your chair and rushed back into the house, heading straight for the freezer. You snickered to yourself as you pulled out your secret weapon before returning to the backyard.

Nanami had just turned the lawnmower off again and moved to discard the lawn clippings in the trash bag. He fully set it off to the side, intending to add it to the other compost by the shed you used for your flowers. Sweat ran down his chiseled cheeks, and he was looking forward to getting this done so he could take a very long shower with you. But just as he was about to connect the basket back to the lawnmower, he looked up at you and dropped it to the ground.

You were sitting back in the lounge chair, legs propped up on the porch railing, as you slowly licked around the frozen treat in the waffle cone in your hand. You are pretty tongue-lapped at your favorite frozen flavor, your eyes transfixed on him as you swirled your tongue expertly around the tip of the treat. Watching you do something so lewd on a dessert had Nanami swallowing hard. He suddenly found his basketball shorts were way too tight for comfort.

You had not intended for it to be like this. Your mind was nowhere even close to being in the gutter. Instead, your intentions were innocent. In the long run, your plan had been to entice him with ice cream to take a break in the shade with you. Maybe once he got out of the blazing heat, you would be able to convince him to allow you to help him. Your poor husband thought you were doing something completely different; fortunately, it worked.

His eyes were towards the grass that was cut evenly, aside from the small patches near the back wall that were practically unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know the yard like you or Kento did; it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he didn’t mow it just this once. The lawn society would come and arrest him for missing a minuscule part of the lawn. Besides, it was too damn hot to be out in the yard working in heat like this. Not when you sat on the porch looking at him with narrowed eyes as you lapped seductively at your treat.

A look you hadn’t realized you had even been giving the man. Your intentions had been pure. So you knew you had won when you watched Nanami quickly move across the yard, picking up his yard tools and throwing them in the shed without a care in the world. You silently fist-pumped the aias. Nanami came bounding across the yard with a purpose. There was a look in those honey-brown eyes as he ran up the stairs.

“How sweet of you to join m—mmphm!”

Your frozen dessert falls onto your lap as Nanami tosses his baseball cap off to the side, his hands gripping your face as he kisses you deeply. Your eyes rolled back, your mind completely ignoring the fact that your frozen treat was melting in your lap. All your brain could focus on was kissing Nanami back; everything else fizzled into the background as he lifted you out of the chair, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Mhmm—my love.” the moan that left Nanami’s mouth caused the little hairs on your arms to stand as goosebumps rose. “If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask.”

“H-Huh—?” you drunkenly asked as he opened the backdoor, expertly shutting and locking it as his lips moved over your neck. He chucked warm and deep, his face buried in your neck.

You inhaled sharply, whimpering as his teeth grazed over your pulse. “If you wanted me to ravish you this badly, all you needed to do was say so instead of teasing me.” Your mind raced as you suddenly became aware of what he had been talking about.

The ice cream. Your intention to innocently persuade him to join you on the porch to cool off had been misconstrued as a beg for him to stop what he was doing so you could suck him off, maybe even do more. So, the way you saw it, you had two options. Be honest with your husband and tell him you just wanted the home to cool off on the porch as a ploy to convince him to let you help with the yard. Or, go with what he was saying and have steamy, hot shower sex.

“Oh shoot! You caught me! Here, I thought I was being so aloof with my plans!”

Your husband kicks the door to your bedroom open, heading into the bathroom. “Luckily for me, I can read you like a book.” Your fingers run through his slightly damp, sweat-ridden hair, scratching at the undercut as you pull yourself in and kiss him deeply.

“That you do.”

Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU)

The door to the apartment flew open, and you snarled, eyes searching for any sign of your boyfriend. “Kuna!” screamed at the top of your lungs. There was no response, but that didn’t stop you from searching the empty apartment for your teasing boyfriend.

Intentions of making him pay for the relentless teasing he had put you through your workday. It started as an innocent text that said good morning and to have a good day. That innocent message progressed to him saying he missed you, followed by a picture of him lying in bed, his ripped abdomen muscles on full display. The photo in itself is something you were used to, but the images that followed were out of nowhere.

Pictures of his bulge in his basketball shorts came up on your screen. With each picture that showed up, they became more scandalous. The bulge turned into photos of him, groping himself through his pants, the erection clearest day to shots of his tattooed, happy trail all the way up to the base of his cock. Your face flushed as you shielded your phone from the prying eyes of your coworkers. You texted him to knock it off, but that was not easily persuaded. He did what he wanted, and he didn’t give a fuck.

Those scandalous photos turned into Voice Memos that had your panties soaked and your lip raw from how hard you bid it to hold the back whimpers. The man was torturing you, and you had planned to make him suffer as much as he had made you. But now that you were finally off the clock, in the safety of your own home, and the bastard was nowhere to be found!? Typical teasing dick move.

You stormed into the kitchen, searching for something to distract yourself with. Finding a popsicle in the freezer, you unwrapped it just as the front door opened and shut. In a second, you watched as your boyfriend around the corner, dropping his keys on the counter.

“Kitten!” shouted around with hungry desire. “I'm home!”

“Hm.” Instead of responding with the normally warm, enthusiastic welcome, he was greeted with the coldness of a winter storm.

“Oh, don't hm me. What do you say I ma—” His words traveled off as he fixed his gaze on you, witnessing you pushing the pink popsicle into your mouth, sucking on the tip as he blinked before focusing on you.

Teasing wasn’t as fun now that he was the one on the receiving end of it. That’s what you thought. You had been eager to watch his face contort with need. Longing to make him suffer the same way he had made you suffer throughout the entirety of your day. Shortly as you found yourself lost in thoughts, you were met with the dark, almost void look in his crimson eyes.

That almost emotionless look in his eyes, and he didn’t seem bothered by your actions. Instead, you’ve leaned further over the counter, not breaking the eye contact. There was a lot you had been expecting your boyfriend to do in response to your teasing. So you continued to deep-throat the icy treat. But when Soukouna reached into the fruit bowl on the counter, picking up a peach, your eyebrows twitched as you tried to figure out what he intended to do.

A split second passed before Sukuna reached for the knife block. He pulled out the pairing knife, still maintaining icon contact. You walked, and your boyfriend sliced into the fruit. Its sweet juices beat against the fuzzy skin. The second peach was split in half. Sukuna grabbed the pit of the peach, throwing it into the sink.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, continuing to suck on the popsicle in a very messy manner. Was he seriously going to sit there and eat a peach without saying anything? Before you could even continue to question his intentions, you came to the shocking realization that he wasn’t going to eat the peach.

Your big buff boyfriend leaned over the counter himself, holding the peach in one hand while the other gripped the counter with his other. You watched as his pierced tongue slid out of his mouth slowly, lapping at the inside of the peach; in a way, he typically ate you out. He ran his piercing over the indent of the peach where Sukuna re the tip of the pit was, where your clit would be. He ran his tongue over that spot over and over before his tongue slid back down, lapping over the juicy peach.

Watching him lapping at the peach in such a seductive manner made you choke at first. Your boyfriend snickered as he kept his burning gaze focused solely on you. What the fuck? Why was this so erotic?! Watching him eating out a peach, you were suddenly jealous.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?” He purred out cocking an eyebrow. The juices from the peach smeared over his mouth as he pulled away. “You can dish it out but can’t take it?”

“Mhmm~!” You hummed out aggressively, swirling your tongue over the top of the popsicle. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You whispered, running the tip of your tongue over what you pretended was the slit of your boyfriend's cock.

“Ah, okay, I see. You can pretend you’re not imagining that popsicle as my thick cock, but I’m pretending this.” He held the peach up. “Is your sweet cunt.”

His words sent fire to pool in your abdomen. “O-oh yeah?” You questioned as if you didn’t know that’s what he was doing.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t compare to you.” He growled as he flicked his tongue over the peach. “You’re so much wetter, sweeter, and make the prettiest sounds. I’d much rather bury my head between your thighs.”

“Yet you’re still licking the peach.”

“And you're still deepthroating a fucking popsicle.”

You weren’t going to break down first! You refused to when he had started the teasing this morning while you were at work. Even if the popsicle melted you had a freezer full of them to continue this stupid game.

“Mmm~haaah~” Sukuna moaned softly, flicking his tongue over the peach in strategic swipes, ones you were familiar with. “S,” Sukuna hummed before you watched his tongue quickly dip down, “U,” the pink tongue darted down before two quick flicks followed, “K—”

You were a liar.

You threw the popsicle to the floor before snatching the peach away from your boyfriend and throwing it into the sink. Your boyfriend's smirk didn’t even have a chance to tug at the corner of his mouth as you yanked him closer to you by the straps of his tank top. Not expecting you to falter so quickly, Sukuna barely had time to process what was happening before he was dragged around the kitchen island, where your lips slammed against his.

All cocky attitudes joined the discarded peach pit in the sink as you both threw yourselves at each other. The sweet, sticky taste of peaches and strawberries collapsed in a kaleidoscope of flavors as your tongues massaged each other as you fell to the tile floor, wrapping your limbs around your boyfriend. Clothes were tugged off, and belts were unbuckled before moans flooded the apartment, and neither of you intended to stop until you were a sticky, sweaty mess.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

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triptuckers · 3 months ago

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discoveries - remy lebeau

Request: yes! "Your writing for gambit is so good omg 😭❤️ single handedly feeding me rn!! I was wondering if you would write Gambit with a S/O that has one huge tattoo? Lol I got a sea serpent tattoo last year that crawls up from my arm and onto my chest and it’s my absolute pride and joy!! I’m so curious what Remy’s reaction would be to that 👁️👁️" Pairing: remy lebeau x x-men!reader (reader has the ability to manipulate plants and tree roots and use them as shields/weapons) Summary: when you get hurt during a mission and remy takes care of you, he finds out about your tattoo Warnings: mentions of fighting, violence, injuries (reader gets injured), blood, dizziness, tattoo's, angst Word count: 1.6K A/N: anon getting this request made me realise yes I do need a new tattoo (I'm literally broke and unemployed). enjoy!

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being part of the x-men meant you always had to be ready. even if you were spending a cozy afternoon with remy in one of the gardens of the mansion. apparently the newest set of power hungry villains didn't care if you had the day off.

it's how you find yourself - after complaining about it a great deal - strapped in on the jet less than twenty minutes after you got all but hauled inside the mansion by beast.

remy is sitting next to you, long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, hands tucked behind his head.

'don't fret, chéri, we'll be in and out in no time.' says remy.

even though you had been dating for a short while now, it still made you blush when remy called you nicknames. and he knew it. he's smirking at you now, noticing your reddened cheeks.

'that's what you said last time, and we were there for an entire day cleaning up messes.' you say.

remy merely shrugs. 'I've got a good feeling about this one.'

'alright you lovebirds, can we focus? I'm taking her down.' says scott from the front of the jet.

once you all get out of the jet to assess the situation, you can feel remy's presence next to you.

'bet I can take out more than you, chéri.' he whispers in your ear.

'you're on.' you say.

you and remy are instructed by scott to take care of the villains on the ground while the others get the people trapped in the surrounding buildings to safety.

as the team splits up, you and remy run towards a small group of people who randomly shooting around, creating panic and chaos.

at first, you thought they were just low level criminals, but then you notice the kinds of guns they carry.

'remy!' you yell.

you're quick to manipulate the soil, making tree roots shoot up from the ground that knock remy out of the way but gently lower him to the ground behind a few upturned cars.

'that's sentinel tech.' you say once you catch up with him.

'merde.' he says, shaking his head. 'how do they always get their hands on that? ready to take them out?'

'let's go.' you say, flexing your fingers and making the soil beneath your feet rumble slightly.

remy winks at you before taking off.

the two of you work together to get take out the group currently focusing all of their fire on you. as long as the others got all the people in the buildings to safety, they could point their guns at you all they like.

you and remy move quickly through and around the group with practised ease. while you're focusing on the fight, you can hear remy make witty remarks.

'hey, chéri!' you hear him call.

as you crush a guy's windpipe by wrapping roots around his neck, you quickly shoot him a glance.

'I'm up to seven!' he says, holding up one of his cards, which is a seven of hearts.

'get your head out of the counting, remy!' you say, dodging a blow from your next attacker.

'you got less than gambit?' you hear him say somewhere in the distance.

'I got nine!' you shout.

you hear him curse, then you hear two short explosions before remy appears in your line of sight with a smirk on his face, holding up a card with the number ten on it.

'showoff.' you say, but you smile.

remy winks at you before taking off after a few men who had the sense to run away.

as you follow him, you fail to notice one guy wasn't entirely knocked out. you're too late to notice him. he quickly gets close to you and slashes a knife through your side.

you yell out in pain as your knees threaten to give up on you. you quickly turn around to throw a sharp wooden dagger at him, but your aim is off.

from the corner of you eye, you see a flash of purple and moments later a sharp card hits your attacker square in the forehead, making him crumble to the ground.

you distantly hear someone yell your name as you sway on your feet, a wave of dizziness taking over you. you blindly reach out for something to steady you when your hands find something warm and solid.

remy has caught you in his arms. he's worriedly looking down at you, then notices your side.

'oh, merde...' he says, gently prodding your side.

you suck in a sharp breath at the wave of pain spreading from your ribs. as a reflex, you tighten your hold on remy's arms.

'j'excuse, chéri, hold on, gambit's gonna take care of you.' he says.

before he can say anything else, a shot narrowly misses him. remy quickly throws a handful of cards with his free hand that isn't holding you up.

'cyclops!' he yells. 'I need backup! we got one man down!'

you can hear remy's voice both above you and in your earpiece. you hear scott's answer as remy reaches down to pick you up.

as another sharp burst of pain shoots through your body, you glance down. one of your sides is soaked in blood. the knife had ripped a large gash through your uniform.

you frown at it, you loved your uniform. and now it's ruined. you look up to remy, who is holding you into his arms as he runs toward the jet. he's talking to you, but it's like you can't understand him. you close your eyes to fight off the dizziness, but remy lightly taps your cheek.

'non, mon amour, you can't close your eyes. keep them open for remy, yeah?' he says.

mon amour. that's a new one.

you weakly nod at him.

you see a flash of red as scott runs past you.

'beast!' says remy. 'we got medical supplies on the yet?'

'yes!' comes beast's instant reply. you reach up to take the earpiece out, the sound is too loud and harsh to bear. you're so comfortable in remy's arms, who is trying the best to keep you steady as he runs to the jet as fast as he can.

you hear remy talk to beast as he enters the jet and gently lowers you onto a chair. he reclines the chair so you're more comfortable.

'I'll be right back, chéri.' he says with a kiss to your forehead.

you can hear him rummage around somewhere behind you as you're fighting to keep your eyes open. the pain in your side had shrunk down to a dull ache, but you could tell blood was still coming out of the wound.

remy comes back, carrying a bag of medical supplies with him.

'this ain't gonna be pretty.' he says as he moves closer to you.

'just get it over with.' you say.

'you just keep talking to me, yeah?'

'sure.'

'bien. here we go.'

remy reaches into the bag and gets out a pair of fabric scissors. he hesitates briefly. the two of you hadn't been dating for very long. not much had happened besides the occasional make out session. you'd seen remy without a shirt when you would play basketball with the team, but remy had never seen you without a shirt. suddenly it all felt too quickly.

'it's okay, love.' you say, bringing him out of his hesitation. 'I trust you.'

he nods at you before carefully cutting your uniform off of you. when he has cut away the biggest part of the top half of your uniform, his eyes fall to your body.

not the wound, but rather the other side.

a tattooed serpent that slithers from your rib cage over your shoulder and disappears into the sleeve remy hadn't cut off.

instead of checking the wound, remy trails his fingers softly over your tattoo. you watch as his eyes follow the pattern of ink. you would have thought you were shy and nervous to be sitting here shirtless with remy. but you loved your tattoo. the design is beautiful, and it means a lot to you.

'so that's what you've been hiding beneath that suit of yours.' he murmurs.

'you like it?' you say softly. while you loved your tattoo, there had been different kinds of reactions from people who saw it.

'chéri... it's beautiful.' says remy, soothing your worries.

'I almost feel bad for having to cover it up.' says remy, reaching out to get out the medical supplies.

'don't worry, you'll get to look at it plenty after I've healed.' you say.

'really?'

'yeah, of course. if you'd still have me with a giant scar on my side.'

'I'm with you til the end, mon amour. now let's get you fixed up.' says remy, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. 'in the meantime, tell me the story how you got it, hm? need you to stay awake for me.'

'alright.' you say softly, and you start telling the story of how you got the tattoo as remy works on cleaning the wound and bandaging you up.

when he wraps the binding around your chest, you can tell his hands linger on your tattoo, tracing its outlines.

you close your eyes and lean back as remy secures the bandage. you feel how he lightly taps your forehead, then presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

'all done, chéri.' he says.

his voice sounds close, and when you open your eyes, you see his face right in front of you.

you smile tiredly at him. 'can I sleep now?'

remy smiles back at you. 'oui, mon amour.'

'stay here?'

'always.'

you feel how remy gently traces your tattoo again as you drift off to sleep.

A/N:thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

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megwritesriddles · 27 days ago

Text

Secret's Safe ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 15 - Blackmail. Reader discovers Riddle's true blood status and divulges this information to him. Riddle assumes she must be here to blackmail him and immediately attempts to seduce her, but things aren't all that simple for him actually going through with it.

Tags: Blackmail, Mildly dubious consent (barely), P in V sex, Biting, Virgin!Tom (implied), Pureblood politics, Sexism, Implied/Referenced death, murder and violence, Unspoken feelings, Feelings realisation, Oddly quite fluffy, Tom is forced to be vulnerable emotionally.

Word count: 5.5k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Lets not discuss how long this is or how late it is, thank you!! This ended up way different than I imagined going in, Tom is a bad guy in this like he's committed murders... but he's also inexperienced and realises he loves you so... This is nowhere near as dark as I thought it would be, the blackmail is barely blackmail!! Hope you like it mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Well, this was certainly interesting. You’d never expected this, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The surname Riddle had never sounded familiar to you, and growing up, at all the Pureblood parties, no one had ever met Tom or any supposed family members. After the first year, he had started attending, but never with any family in tow, usually as a guest of Abraxas or somebody else. Why you hadn’t questioned it before you had no idea, you felt rather foolish now. Hindsight was always 20/20. Of course, there were those few pureblood families, like the Weasleys, who didn’t bother about those sorts of events, but Riddle had never given the impression that he came from such a family, always implying very powerful origins. In a way, he wasn’t wrong, with one discovery came another, that he was the heir of Slytherin. This was peripherally problematic to you, but you couldn’t put your finger on why it bothered you so much. Some distant memory writhing in the back of your mind, not making itself known. But the most glaring discovery for you had been Riddle’s muggle father. You were sure nobody knew about this, or else he certainly wouldn’t be in the circles he was in.

The way you had discovered it had been rather unlikely, something Riddle surely wouldn’t have been counting on. You and Walburga were partnered on a project for Advanced Charms, it being the final year of Hogwarts, standards for what you came up with were high. After weeks of deliberation and workshopping, you’d settled on a book which could tell you family histories. Initially, the book’s function was for you to write in a plant name, and to see which other plant species it was closely related to and other pieces of information. Certainly interesting, but a little too Herbology for either of your liking, spitting out information neither of you could quite understand. After presenting the book to Professor Beery for a hefty extra credit and house point sum, you went back to workshopping. You’d figured out one evening how to get it to trace family histories, and this was the perfect idea, as all the information that came out was easy to understand, but could also be deeply valuable. You’d spent all evening fine-tuning it with Walburga. She was intimately familiar with her family history, so you used her as a control, making sure the facts remained accurate as you messed with the magic. It was finally done, and you would be presenting it next week. You’d taken the book back to your dorm and messed around with it before bed, taking great amusement in some of the ancient wizard’s names. Naming conventions had been so odd at some points. You traced practically every single one of your friends' histories, before landing on Riddle’s.

Riddle wasn’t really a friend, as such. You sort of ran in the same circles and you were courteous to one another, but you weren’t close and at times you found him a little irksome. Perhaps it was this mythos that surrounded him, the idea that he had slept with three-quarters of the girls at Hogwarts who were of age. The idea that he could have you undone with one touch and that he did so often. Part of you was almost bitter he hadn’t propositioned you, given how much he allegedly got around, but you always felt he was intimidated by your intelligence. All the other girls, sure they were driven and intelligent, but they seemed to dumb themselves down around him, make themselves smaller. It was probably not even a conscious thing, many of the pureblood girls had been taught growing up never to threaten a man’s ego in any way. You’d always thought this was nonsense, that if you were more intelligent than a man that he ought to know it and needn’t be coddled, but for most of the girls, it just came naturally from a lifetime of training. You never bothered to shrink yourself around Riddle, to giggle and write off your high marks as a fluke if he came asking, you would simply say you did well because you were intelligent, and you guessed he didn’t like this because he avoided you for the most part. Whenever he did speak to you, it was usually to compare grades, or, in a group setting. He always seemed to know just a little too much about what was going on with you, what grades you’d gotten, what teachers you were meeting with. You chalked it up to him being Head Boy, but no one else received quite this much attention.

You wrote down his name into the book anyway, figuring the surname ‘Riddle’ begat some entertaining first names. What immediately greeted you as the information materialised on the page had been a bit of a shock. His father, whose name was otherwise completely unfamiliar to you, did not have any parents listed, or further back. You sat in confusion for a moment trying to figure out why that could be, but came to no conclusions. You pushed the thought away and studied his mother’s heritage. Merope Gaunt. Gaunt, finally a name you recognised, but not a woman you could ever attest to having met at any pureblood events. You realise she’s listed as dead, that would perhaps explain a thing or two. You feel a hint of sympathy creeping over you at the realisation that both his parents are listed as dead, his father only rather recently. You wondered why he hadn’t mentioned to anyone that his father had died over the previous summer. You trace his ancestry back all the way to Salazar Slytherin, momentarily impressed, before the realisation of why his father has no listed relatives hits you. The book was made only to track wizarding blood. His father was a muggle.

The realisation was immediately brushed off. No, there was some other explanation, Riddle was one of the most pompous purebloods you knew, even by your standards, the idea of his father being a muggle was preposterous. You went back over the enchantments on the book, trying to figure out what other reason there might be for his father’s heritage to be blank, but come up empty-handed. He had to be a muggle.

You keep the information to yourself for the next few days, turning it over in your mind. A muggle, it was very hard to believe, especially with how Riddle acted. He probably noticed your staring, but you couldn’t stop yourself from doing it, seeing him in an entirely new light. Tom Riddle, the orphan, the half-blood. It was confusing, to say the least. Your staring problem must have been worse than you thought because one day he sweeps you aside in the Slytherin common room and smiles charmingly.

“Is there an issue?” he prompts politely, eyes drinking in your face. “Only you keep staring,” you blink at him. You’re almost tempted to tell him ‘I know who you are,’ but you keep it inside for now.

“Shouldn’t you be used to that?” you smile. He chuckles slightly.

“I don’t get the feeling you’re merely admiring me,” his eyes study yours for a moment and then he takes hold of your arm, leaning a little closer. “Tell me what it really is,” his voice is low and smooth as velvet, and for a moment you understand his mythos a little better. You glance around the busy common room.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t like me to say it here,” you try to subtly warn him, but he clearly understands this to mean something suggestive, his brow raising.

“I see,”

“If you really must know, then we must go somewhere private,” you insist, knowing how much this could blow up in his face if word spread around the common room. You’re not even sure why you’re shielding him from it, perhaps the revelation of his mother dying in childbirth makes you more gracious toward him. You’re surprised how much he hesitates, given how he’s interpreted the situation. If he’s supposedly slept with most of the girls in the year group, why would it be you who gives him pause? You know you’re not ugly enough for him to be this apprehensive, does he really feel so threatened by you? It all seems odd. Finally, he leads you away, toward his dorm room, private quarters for the Head Boy. You realise how this must all look, to him and to onlookers, but you’re sure he’s in for quite the disappointment when he discovers what this is really about. He gestures for you to sit at his desk and he sits on the edge of his bed. The distance he puts between you intrigues you, what is this about?

“Well?” he urges, swallowing a little. Why is he so anxious? Does he know somehow already? You’ve never seen him like this before.

“This really isn’t what you think it is,” you begin. His brows furrow. “I uh… know about your father,” Riddle goes unbelievably tense and red in the face, his breaths becoming laboured. You watch him, curious. He glares at you scruntinisngly. There are several things you might be referring to, all of them bad, he doesn’t know from your expression which it is.

“What?” he croaks, his usual composure hanging on by a thread, you’re worried he’s about to lash out and start smashing up the room and you with it. His body is taut like a bowstring.

“That he’s a muggle,” you respond. You can’t understand why he relaxes slightly at this, but he does, though he still looks tense and mortified. He puffs out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He’s not arguing, so you know it must be true. “And that he’s dead,” you add. He tenses all over again, his eyes flicking back to you. “Sorry for your loss,” he relaxes once more.

“Right yes… that was… terrible when he… died,” he puffs out, unsure how to interpret this situation. You don’t look angry or scared, so you must be missing a few puzzle pieces here. He should have expected that someone would discover this one day, his surname wasn’t a part of the sacred 28. He hadn’t known about that in the first year, and once he’d already introduced himself as pureblood, he could hardly backtrack or change his name, so he just prayed his confidence would keep him getting by, and surprisingly it had, until now. It wasn’t a surprise it was you who found out, you were always irritatingly observant, it was honestly more of a surprise it had taken this long. He stares at you for a moment and you stare back. “What do you want?” he asks, figuring you’ve come to gloat in his face and demand he do your homework for the rest of the year or something. He would do it, he really couldn’t afford this getting out, especially not to his Knights. The fact you hadn’t already told everyone indicated an intention to blackmail him, you could have easily spread the word already, but you were smarter than that, he knew you were.

“What do I want?” you tilt your head quizically.

“I assume you’re here to blackmail me, so just tell me already,” he sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was furious with himself that he hadn’t prepared in any way for this eventuality. What would he have done if you’d spread the word without coming to him first? His whole plan, everything he’d been working for would have crumbled in minutes. He would have probably killed you, although the thought gives him pause now, it wouldn’t have really fixed things anyway.

Blackmail hadn’t actually crossed your mind, but you supposed you were in the perfect position to do so. As you watched him, discomposed for seemingly the first time in his life, you realised just how much he needed this information to remain secret with you. You could ask him for anything and he would probably do it. At your silence, Riddle lets out a frustrated howl and collapses back onto his bed, clearly thinking you’re playing some game with him. He runs his hands through his hair, staring up at the canopy above his bed. His hair is messed up, you realise you’ve never seen it like this, free of its immaculate style. The look suits him. His arms thud onto the bed at his sides and he groans again. You stand and come to kneel beside him on the bed without much thought. He looks up at you through his lashes, half angry, half intensely vulnerable. It's odd to be looking down at him like this, but it’s also a little exhilarating.

“Just tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you,” he pleads, staring up at you. “Come on, darling,” he tries his best to be his charming self even in this state, reaching for your hand. “I’ll do anything,” His cold hand on yours stirs something odd in you, he brings the back of your hand to his mouth and kisses it, his eyes locked on yours. He’s not sure what he’s doing, but it’s working, he watches as you blush. He kisses slowly up your arm, eyes locked on yours the whole while. As his lips brush the ticklish skin of the inside of your elbow, you finally withdraw your arm. He frowns, thinking he’d figured you out.

“Why have you never propositioned me?” you ask, your voice a little too serious for how insecure the question sounds leaving your lips. His brows furrow and he moves to sit up in front of you.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve supposedly slept with nearly the entire legal female population of Hogwarts and you’ve never propositioned me?” you hate how insecure you sound, but it’s something that you realise has been bothering you for a long time, as stupid as it is. He stares at you.

“You’re supposed to be smart,” he scoffs, and then changes his approach, figuring offending you is a terrible idea at the moment. “Have you ever actually spoken to any girl who has a story about sleeping with me, or is it all hearsay?” his words make you comb back through all the wild stories you’ve heard. He’s right, none of them have ever come directly from someone, all having started with something to the effect of ‘my friend heard…’. You study his face for a moment and he raises a prompting brow.

“No, I suppose you’re right,” you admit, chewing your lip. There are so many things that you should have been paying more attention to, this was another plainly obvious fact with hindsight. “So… what’s the truth?” he looks away from you, hesitating. “Oh come on, as if I don’t know worse things about you by now,” you tease. He glares for a moment but concedes that you’re right about that.

“None of it is true, no girl at this school is… good enough for me, I suppose,” he mumbles, sticking his chin up.

“Good enough for you?” you hum.

“I can’t give myself away to just anyone… it’s…” he hesitates, knowing he sounds completely pathetic despite his attempts to reframe this.

“You’re waiting for the right person?” you chuckle. “How uncharacteristic of you,” he huffs.

“Oh shut up, will you? It’s just… I don’t trust… very easily… and people underestimate how much trust is involved in an act like sex… you are completely vulnerable, physically and emotionally,” he crosses his arms defensively as he explains himself. “You could hardly defend yourself if the other person were to attack you during it,” you tilt your head at him. “It leaves you weak, in every sense of the word, so I have seen no need to participate,”

“That must have been a big disappointment to many witches,” you tease. He rolls his eyes.

“I can usually charm my way out of any issues, and the gossip around my ‘conquests’ has persisted, so it can’t have caused that much strife,” he finishes. You hum, supposing he’s right. “None of the girls are intelligent enough for me here,” he asserts. You scoff.

“Awfully sexist of you,”

“Hardly,” he snaps back. “None of the boys are suitable either, but I don’t consider them because I’m not… that way inclined,”

“Anyway, I didn’t think you liked intelligence in a woman,” you add.

“Why would I not? I love intelligence, I require intelligence, I would never fraternise with somebody lacking intellect, I would be far too bored,” he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“But you don’t seem to like when I assert my intelligence,” you shrug.

“You’re different,”

“Why?” you laugh in disbelief. “I’m too intelligent that it threatens you?”

“No!” he hisses. “For one, you use your brains for the most infuriating of things, such as looking into my family history,” you’re tempted to interrupt him and tell him that the discovery had been an accident but you stay quiet.

“And for two?” you press. He’s silent for a long moment.

“Is this what you wanted? Blackmailing me into an argument? Because I’m sure we could have found a reason to argue without all this,” he griped. You sighed. No, you hadn’t particularly wanted to argue, you hadn’t particularly wanted anything, you’d intended to keep this information to yourself really and then when it had come out, you hadn’t considered blackmail until he brought it up. Your mind flashes back to his kisses up your arm, a warm tingle going through you.

“Were you attempting to seduce me earlier?” he glances at you, his cheeks just slightly pink. “Even though you’re waiting for the right person?” you add with a chuckle. He sighs.

“I might have been, I figured it was my best bet,” he shrugs it off, feigning nonchalance.

“What would you have done if I had gone with it?” you tilt your head curiously.

“Gone with it, I suppose,” he looks down, fiddling with his tie pin, feeling more uncomfortable than he was ever used to feeling.

“You’d have slept with me?” you enquire. He nods subtly, puffing out a short breath. “Even though I might have stabbed you in the back or something?” you tease. He glares at you.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he dismisses.

“So you trust me?” you challenge. He immediately opens his mouth to protest but then falters. Does he trust you? He knows you would never attack him physically, and he tries to brush that off as the belief that you are physically weak, but he knows that’s not true. If he were to attack you, he has no doubt you would put up quite a fight, but that you would never initiate. He hadn’t even thought through the fact that despite all his reservations, he really had been trying to seduce you, and not even reluctantly. He would have slept with you, and he wouldn’t have been afraid of what you might do to him. Sure, the emotional vulnerability was still a point of contention, but initially, he hadn’t had the time to consider that. Now that he’s given it some proper consideration, why is he not changing his mind?

“I suppose,” his voice is strained, like this is taking a great deal of effort for him to say. “That in some weird way I do trust you,” his expression is pained and he won’t look at you, but you know those words mean way more than they do on the surface. He’s never admitted to trusting anyone before, at least not truthfully, and to admit it to you… it’s frightening, and yet he did it anyway. You hold out your hand to him to see what he’ll do. He takes your cue despite himself, taking hold of it and kissing the back of your hand a few times. His lips are gentle and you quite like the feeling. Sure, he told you the rumours about him were false, but perhaps he really could make you come undone with just one touch, if you only showed him where to put it. “I’ll sleep with you if that’s what you like,” he admits quietly. “I need you to keep my secret, I’ll do anything,”

“Would you like to sleep with me?” you ask. He looks up at you, lips pressing against your wrist. His look is a little pained again, you’re not sure how to read it.

“I’ll do it,” he grits out.

“But do you want to? I don’t want to force you to sleep with me…” you try again. He gives you that pained look once more. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, to admit to such weaknesses as need and lust, he hopes you understand without words. He kisses all the way up your arm, leaning closer and caging you in as he starts to press kisses to your neck. You exhale shakily, placing your hands on his shoulders as he continues to lavish you with tender kisses. He presses you back, back until you fall onto his pillows and he follows you down, positioning his body over you, his hands on either side of your shoulders. He’s breathing hard as he looks down at you, his pupils dilated. You stare back up at him, still a little unsure. “Riddle… don’t force yourself, I don’t–”

He cuts you off with a deep kiss to your lips, you gasp slightly and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring slowly. This kiss is not forced, this kiss is genuine and furiously wanting and the thought makes you moan. He shivers in return, kissing a little harder. Your hands come to his shoulders again as he comes to rest on his forearms, his neck no longer straining to you. You part your legs so he can settle between them, his hips pressing to yours. You can’t help but gasp again when you feel his erection press against you. He smiles against your lips, his signature cocky smirk returning.

“You sound amazing when you gasp like that for me,” he taunts. You roll your eyes, kissing him once more. It’s almost impressive how he’s able to maintain that arrogant air throughout all this. You hate it, yet you can’t deny the soft pulsing feeling between your legs. He continues to kiss you, his lips pressing against yours, his tongue slowly swirling and caressing, the sound of your lips meeting is both erotic and hypnotic, lulling you further into your aroused state. Your eyes are closed in bliss, but occasionally you open them for a glimpse of him. His lashes flutter as he kisses you, his cheeks are flushed which you didn’t even realise was possible before today, and his hair falls forward, surprisingly curling up a little as it encounters the sweat forming on his forehead. He kisses you like it’s his favourite thing in the world, gentle yet thorough, and you hope it is so that you might get to do this with him again. His kisses get a little needier as you feel him hardening further against you, pressing against you more insistently. Your hand settles on the back of his neck and you hold him in place as he kisses you. He grunts appreciatively, sucking on your bottom lip. He sits up suddenly, disconnecting your lips. You pant as you stare up at him in confusion, wondering if he’s stopping this from going further, but instead, he’s loosening your tie. You lie there and let him do the work, after all, he’s meant to be keeping you sweet. He doesn’t seem to mind. He takes great satisfaction in slowly peeling away your clothes, discarding your tie, and then unbuttoning your shirt. He’s making you vulnerable beneath him and he’s drunk on the feeling, although, he doesn’t intend to hurt or exploit you, he’s never had such pure intentions in anything he’s done before in his life. Which is odd, considering you’re about to sleep together. He traces the lace of your bra with his fingertips. “Been expecting me?” he teases, wondering about how nice the bra is, black and lacy.

“No, just a happy accident,” you chuckle as he runs the lace between his fingers. He’s a little disappointed that you hadn’t had this all planned out all along, but he figures there’s plenty of time for that in the future. It doesn’t occur to him at the moment that he’s just admitted to himself that he intends to do this again with you. He takes hold of your waist and eases you up to sit. He gives you a few gentle kisses on your neck, making you throw your head back and then he reaches around to your back to unclasp your bra. He’s heard horror stories of embarrassment from his peers, so takes a moment to acquaint himself with the mechanism, running his hands back and forth along your back as you rest heavily against his chest, your chin on his shoulder. Once he understands how it works, he uses both hands to unhook it easily. He slides the straps down your arms and bares you to his gaze. You lean back to give him a view, enjoying his wide-eyed look. He cups your breasts in his hands and kisses you once again. He lays you back down, gently kneading your flesh, groaning at the feeling. You’re soft and warm and it feels so good that he wishes you’d found out he was half-blood earlier, or that he’d been less stuck-up this whole time and propositioned you like you seem to have wanted. He moves his hands down to your stomach, stroking for a moment before popping to button on your skirt and sliding down the zip. He then eases the fabric down over your hips.

“Matching set,” he comments upon spying your lacy black underwear. “Sure you weren’t expecting me?” you roll your eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure,”

“Someone else?” he questions as uninterestedly as possible. You chuckle, sensing the hint of jealousy in his tone.

“No, just wanted to feel good for myself,” he nods at your answer, hoping you don’t spot his relief. He runs his hands up and down your hips and waist, occasionally squeezing the supple flesh.

“The female body is quite… pleasant under the hands,” he comments, kneading your hips gently. You give him a look. “Well… your body is anyway,” he runs his thumbs over your stomach. You smile up at him and he avoids your gaze, not wanting to confront the way that look just made him feel. He decides to speed things along, desperate to come out of this alive. He moves back enough to remove his own tie and shirt, secretly enjoying the way you’re watching. Then he stands and slowly lowers his trousers, taking his boxers with them. There’s no use delaying the inevitable and he’s hardly ashamed of his body. He steps out of his trousers and sits back down between your legs. He kneads your thighs as he lets you look him over.

“That scar on your chest–” you begin but he cuts you off quickly with a kiss, not wishing to discuss this right now when he’s so close to you, to having you. If you started asking about all his various scars, you’d be here a long time, and you’d run away from him well before he finally got to sink into your cunt for the first time. The thought stirs his cock. No, he can’t let you ask questions until later, he needs to have this at least once, he hasn’t even realised how much he’s been waiting for it. For… you. His cock rests heavily on you through the lace of your underwear, hot to the touch. He kisses you intently, sensual and all-consuming until you forget your line of questioning. He’s smug that he’s able to do that to you, perhaps he should have kissed you the second you started bringing things up you weren't supposed to. Perhaps by the end of this, you’ll have forgotten how it started and only remember the way he’d made you feel. Yes, that would be good. The thought urges him on, he nearly rips off your underwear. You squeak indignantly and he kisses your neck in an effort to placate you. He didn’t really care if he’d ripped them or not, but he couldn’t have you turning your back on him now. Not after he’s bared himself like this. He reaches down and lines himself up with you, ready to plunge in, but one last thought keeps him at bay.

“Are you on the potion?” he grunts, nuzzling into your neck.

“Yeah,” you swallow, staring down at where the two of you are about to be joined together. He waits for nothing else, easing himself into you, he groans loudly against your neck, the warmth surrounding him feeling euphoric. Your arms settle around his back, holding him close to you and he lets you, leaning against you heavily. He grits his teeth, trying to keep in control, but he can’t. His hips start rutting into you fast, he needs this and he has you now, he can’t stop himself. You grip his shoulders hard, gasping and wailing, the sounds only egging him on.

“Yeah?” he groans between thrusts as you whine sweetly in his ear. “That feel good..? fuck…” he’s not one to usually swear in this way, part of his charming demeanour, but he can’t help it slipping out with you. You make him all sorts of vulgar that he’s never been before. He pounds into you, glad that you don’t seem to mind his ferocity. He’ll be gentle with you some other time, but right now, all this pent-up energy needs to come out, and you’re receiving it so well. “Taking me so well, darling,” he chokes out, and you moan in response, seemingly touched by his words. He lifts himself up onto his hands, staring down at you, his hips slamming into yours. He watches your beautiful face in fascination as it twists with pleasure. He’s never taken so much enjoyment in making someone feel good before, it reminds him of the feeling he gets when he exerts power over someone, but better, because it’s you and he–

He can’t finish that thought, he refuses to. It’s too much. He keeps up his relentless pace, closing his eyes because the sight of you is stirring his chest along with the stirring in his stomach. His thrusts slow, but become deeper and more powerful. You moan unabashedly under him and the sound invades his mind, consuming him completely. He leans back down and buries his face in your neck biting down as his hips stutter and he spills deep inside you. The biting is the only thing preventing him from saying something he knows he’ll regret in his dizzy orgasmic state. Three disgusting little words that he’s never thought before in his life, that surely, he can’t mean now, even if they’re fighting their way out of his mouth. When he feels you orgasming around him, he clamps down on your neck harder, tasting a little blood. He finds himself feeling sorry for doing it. He lets go, gasping for breath. He presses a kiss to the bite mark on your neck, reluctantly apologetic. You whimper beneath him and he pulls back to check you’re okay. You are, just overwhelmed, he is too, though he’s not letting it show as blatantly as you are. He withdraws slowly from you, whining in tandem with you at the feeling. He sits back up between your legs, looking down at you. Your eyes are closed as you gather yourself. You trust him enough to lie there with your eyes closed, he could do anything to you right now. Things he has done to others before, and yet there you lie, trusting him like he trusts you. He scoops you up into his arms and rests your head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for drawing blood,” he mumbles as if it’s enough of an excuse for him to hold you like this. He kisses the bite mark again, secretly a little thrilled that it’s there, a physical reminder of all this. He soothes your back, rubbing soft circles, an action he’s never performed before. “You’ll keep my secret right?” he asks, and realises suddenly he doesn’t know what he’s referring to. The fact of his blood status? The lie of his mythos? The fact he’s just slept with you, been this vulnerable? Or… the worst one of them all? The unspoken words that he’s sure you’re smart enough to have heard in the silence by now. You don’t know which he’s referring to either, but you answer sincerely nonetheless.

“Your secret is safe with me, Tom,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

thank you to @i-live-in-spite and several anonymous asks whose ideas I pulled from a little to form this plot, lots of love ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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buddierecs · 2 months ago

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post season 7 buddie fics

in honour of season 8 coming out in a few days, here is a list of fics that have been released over the hiatus set post season 7. all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

ice cream before dinner (my beloved) by: cloudydaisies "gerrard messes with the team's schedules and eddie 'i just drove my son to flee the state' diaz is the only option to watch mara and jee-yun after school on tuesdays, which, shouldn't be a problem at all, right?" word count: 58k important tags: girl!uncle eddie, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions, feelings realisation, minor buck/tommy, family feels take me home (to my heart) by: literalmetaphor "eddie and maddie end up in an impossible situation." word count: 20k important tags: car accidents, injury, hurt!eddie diaz, hurt!maddie han, maddie & eddie friendship, worried!evan buckley, getting together it's always on the tip of my tongue by: allyasavedtheday "eddie diaz vs the great romance paradigm." word count: 17k important tags: character study, therapy, emotional hurt/comfort, falling in love, demisexual!eddie diaz all my little words by: youbetsya "eddie: did you just send me an email?? buck: yeah lol eddie: why… i dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. just stuff to print when your printer is broken buck: did you read it? eddie: Not yet. too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me buck: just read it dude 🙄" word count: 11k important tags: texting, idiots in love, getting together, eddie diaz mustache three strikes and you're out by: eightpackdiaz "buck's soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend chooses to ignore him every time the kiss cam points in their direction. eddie does the opposite" word count: 3.1k important tags: minor buck/tommy, cheating, kiss him, jealous!eddie diaz, tommy kinard bashing, first kiss a honey shade of blue by: hattalove "one toddler, two conversations, and so many missed opportunities for buck to act like a guy not in love with his best friend." word count: 8k important tags: getting together, pining!evan buckley, first kiss catatonia by: dqstcrdly "buck and eddie get into a car accident, buck thinks eddie is dead, and goes catatonic about it." word count: 13k important tags: car accidents, near death experiences, love confessions, angst, hurt/comfort, getting together, tommy kinard bashing knowing me, knowing you by: kiwibuckley "five times eddie was the better (boy)friend, and the one time he was the boyfriend" word count: 10k important tags: 5+1 things, friends to lovers, getting together, minor buck/tommy, tommy kinard bashing, eddie diaz loves evan buckley, petty!eddie diaz, pining sweet talk by: daisies_and_briars "eddie asks to crash at the loft while christopher is gone, struggling to be on his own. only problem? there's only one bed, and no couch." word count: 6.5k important tags: there was only one bed, minor buck/tommy, healing, couch theory this postcard tells you where we've been by: daisies_and_briars "eddie finds a collection of postcards buck sent to chris over his summer in el paso." word count: 3.5k important tags: getting together, first kiss, fluff, christopher diaz has two dads glass on the pavement under my shoe by: doitgently "buck takes a great big tumble. like always, eddie is right behind him." word count: 9.4k important tags: near death experience, major character injury, love confessions, angst with happy ending you'd have to stop the world (just to stop the feeling) by: wenttoafortuneteller "the eddie diaz gay realization arc we all deserve. in which bobby puts some pieces together, chimney sees something he shouldn’t, hen gets to have a conversation she’s been waiting to have for years, and buck can’t understand why his best friend is avoiding him." word count: 23k important tags: character study, catholic guilt, pre-relationship, self-discovery, self-acceptance, feelings realisation hope it hurts, burns & you finally grieve me by: dylaesthetics "eddie spontaneously visits a church and things fall into place." word count: 4.8k important tags: character study, religious guilt, angst, friends to lovers, getting together

#buck x eddie fic #buddie fic #buck x eddie #buddie fics #buddie fic rec #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 show #911 fandom #buddie 911 #evan buck buckley #buck x eddie fanfics #buddie fanfic #buddie recs #buddie recommendations

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quasi-normalcy · 4 months ago

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Every "Nu Trek" (2017- ) Series Ranked from Worst to Best:

Very Short Treks (2023): There's really no words for just how terrible this series is. I mean, I know that it only barely counts because it's explicitly not canon and has a total combined run time of about 15 minutes, but *my god* is it bad! Only one of its episodes is remotely funny, and even that manages to feel like it's driven its main joke into the ground by the end of its 2-minute runtime. The only thing that I can say for it is that is that it gives me an easy, uncontroversial choice for worst Star Trek series, not only of the last 7 years, but of all time.

Picard (2020-2023): Listen; I know that this series is unpopular with the Tumblr Trek fandom, but it actually breaks my heart to have to put it so low on the list. It has, in my own opinion, the best dramatic acting of any Trek series and among the best directing, and almost every individual scene, in isolation, is compellingly watchable. More than that, it has fascinating worldbuilding choices, you can really *see* the passion of the writers for what they're creating (at least in the first and third seasons), and Agnes in particular is among my favourite characters in anything ever. It's got a lot of great moments, too! Picard and Seven bonding over shared Borg trauma; Soji uncovering the truth of her identity; Jurati hacking the Borg Queen's brain; Picard's final farewell to Q; Shaw's Wolf 359 monologue; Geordi's reunion with Data...I could go on. And yet, it just feels like so much *less* than the sum of its parts! Incredible ideas are introduced and then just shrugged off to pursue much more boring ones. Story arcs feel pointless if not actively offensive. Absolutely baffling writing choices are made throughout, with no indication as to why. And the nostalgia baiting , particularly in the final season, becomes so intense that it just chokes the plot to death. One comes away haunted by the feeling that this series should be so much better than it is.

Discovery (2017-2024): Really, this is two separate series: a twisty, grimdark, sci-fi war drama and a gentle queer coffeeshop AU about scientists who talk about their feelings. Both of them have their moments, but they each fall down in the same way: a focus on epic, high-stakes mystery box storytelling that undermines one's ability to really get invested in the characters, or even know who they are when they aren't off saving the universe. Without that, while I liked many of the characters and loved seeing them science the shit out of things using teamwork and the power of math, it's kind of difficult to get invested in this series one way or another. In spite of its absolutely gorgeous visuals, it comes off feeling weirdly...flat.

Short Treks (2018-2020): Not a lot to talk about here; just kind of an anthology series of short films adjacent to Discovery, Picard, and Strange New Worlds. Mostly they're varying shades of mediocre, but a few of them are as brilliant as any episode of Star Trek ever made, so the series gets to be relatively high on the list.

Strange New Worlds (2022- ): This is the first entry on this list that, in my opinion, belongs on the top shelf with some of the best of the older series. And it achieves it basically by adopting the same formula as the original series or the next generation--socially conscious planet-of-the-week adventures with enough wit, cleverness and joie-de-vivre to keep it interesting. I remember in 2017, there was plenty of discussion of how it's possible to update Star Trek's formula for prestige television; how funny that the solution turned out to be "don't change it at all, just give it modern special effects and actual character arcs." That said, the series is a bit *too* beholden to the original, with focus primarily on a bunch of characters who aren't allowed to grow or change too much because we already know how they'll turn out. It would be even better if it were about a new ship and a new crew full of nobodies who we can come to love. Which brings us to...

Lower Decks (2020-2024): Above, I said that Picard felt like it should have been so much better than it was. Lower Decks, frankly, should have been so much worse. How is an adult animated sitcom with Rick and Morty style animation and constant memberberries this freaking good!?! Every episode is a master class in efficient storytelling, with 22 minute runtimes often feeling like they contain as much story and character work as episodes twice as long. And the characters are incredible--like TOS and TNG, they feel almost archetypal, and even though you've never seen them before, they slide so seamlessly into the Star Trek universe that it's hard to believe that they weren't just *always* there; that there was ever a time when you could imagine the Star Trek universe without just intrinsically knowing that Tendi and Shaxs and Mariner were off somewhere in the background. It's greatest success though, the reason why it's comedy works when it really shouldn't, is that it's only *slightly* sillier than the serious series. What we end up with a fantastic series with an ethos that is pure Star Trek, and in fact, if I had written this list a month ago, it would certainly be in the #1 spot. However...

Prodigy (2021-2024?): The first season of Prodigy is...charming. It's got some fun characters, some spectacular visuals, some interesting premises. And if the plots tend to be a little too simplistic to be engaging to an adult, hey, it's a kids' show. It's good. Solid. Above average. And if I had only the first season to go on, it would probably be in third position on this list. But then, a few weeks ago, it went ahead and dropped the best season of Star Trek in a quarter-century, and I really...I just cannot recommend this series highly enough. The sheer, ambitious scope of the narrative; the arcs it puts its character through; the cleverness of the writing; the fricking GORGEOUSNESS of it! And it does all this while redeeming deeply unpopular characters and plot points from other series, in a way that never feels forced or pandering. Not only is it the best Star Trek series of the 21st century, it's one of the best children's animated series since AtLA. Go. Go! Watch it! Watch it now!

#long post #star trek discovery #star trek picard #star trek lower decks #star trek prodigy #star trek strange new worlds #short treks #very short treks

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theteapotofdoom · 2 years ago

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You know, last year during the first Dracula Daily event, everyone was so bewitched by the discovery of The True Dracula Story and the revelation that almost every Dracula movie adaptation is Incorrect™️, that everyone was very much Anti Count Dracula. It’s extremely valid of course since he is literally the monstrous antagonist of the story haunting our beloved polycule, and so many adaptations wrongfully portray him as a tragic hero …

BUT THAT BEING SAID I hope that the second Dracula Daily event allows people to take some distance with these feelings, and let them acknowledge that book Dracula is still one of the most iconic and hilarious character of all times.

No he is not a sexy tragic romantic hero, no he is not a misunderstood sad boy who only misses his girlfriend, and no he is not a sexy manic pixie dream boy who frees Mina from a puritan society.

But he is something also great. He is a whole ass creature. Disguised as an unhinged peepaw. Yes he hurts our protagonists, but also he is so fucking funny. Grandpa climbing the walls of his dramatic castle for no reason. Strange little creature desperately trying to act as a Normal Human Man. Most incompetent demonic creature of all times easily defeated by a bunch of bisexuals. This is is great tumblr blorbo material. Reject modernity (sexy romantic Dracula) and embrace tradition (unhinged cringe creature Dracula).

#dracula daily #I’ll level with y’all I am a little tipsy as write this #hopefully it still makes sense to me tomorrow

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violetmarkings · 1 year ago

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Perfect | Kim Seungmin

Genre: Smut (18+)

Pairing: Stray Kids Seungmin x female reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: porn with very little plot, their relationship is kinda ambiguous in the beginning - so a fwb (?) to lovers kinda thing, Seungmin is a sex god and this mainly focused on female pleasure, so service dom seungmin x sub fem reader, edging (f rec), overstimulation (f rec), vibrator (used on f), v fingering, protected penetration, multiple orgasms (f), dirty talk, reader gets called slutty (lovingly), worship (f rec), use of the green - yellow - red safe word system, they are actually in love i swear, soft aftercare ofc, and very fluffy ending

Enjoy! 🍵

You were standing at the crossroads between love and absolute sin. And somehow, Seungmin was the bridge to both of those things at once. You counted almost five orgasms that night.

The first time, he teased and edged you through your panties, with skillful fingers. He was spooning you, his breath hot on your neck as he kissed it every once in a while, encouraging you, humming along to every sound escaping your lips; as if he was agreeing with you about how good it feels. Rubbing your pussy and clit, stopping every few seconds to make sure you don't cum too early, Seungmin was making you feel so good and so safe.

Unfortunately the edging didn't last very long because through your panties, he couldn't quite grasp how close you are. You came, relaxing into putty into his warm grasp.

"We're continuing, right?" He asked you, to make sure. Of course you were continuing. Your appetite was barely awakening, and you needed so much more from him. You were craving every single thing that you knew only Seungmin could grant you. Nodding sheepishly at him, you turned to watch him fish out your vibrator from the drawer.

You and Seungmin had somewhat of an agreement. A mind-blowing sex agreement.

You've known him for years; worked on assignments with him, met him again at a part time job, got wasted with him a couple times, shared with him your deepest secrets. And one day you told him: that you have a fascination with certain kinks and that you wished you had someone to explore them with.

"I can do that." Is what he replied with and you didn't know if you were supposed to be laughing, crying, mortified or excited. There was definitely a spark, a connection between you and Seungmin since day one - in the idea that you had impeccable teamwork in whatever you worked at together. And he was, of course, very attractive, kind and a great person overall - when he wasn't being a menace. However, your kinks needed exactly that, for him to be a menace to you. You wanted to be edged, teased, overstimulated and tortured with pleasure until you couldn't think straight. And Seungmin took up the challenge.

So after the first orgasm, he brought out your bullet vibrator and, without even taking off your clothes, he placed it inside your panties, turned it on and pressed it onto you, making sure the panties were keeping it in place. The vibrations began to deliciously settle into your nerves, and Seungmin was moving the vibrator up and down to stimulate you as intensely as possible. The air grew hot very fast, and soon your hips were moving with a mind of their own to chase after that vibrator. You were struggling; clearly wanting it - wanting to cum again, you were craving it desperately. Seungmin was heavily amused watching you.

He made such a self discovery by volunteering to help you out. He liked it, a lot. He wasn't sure if he liked this kind of kinks in general (because he gets to tease as much as he wants) or he likes it because it's you. When he finds the courage to, he'll realize it's actually you he likes the most.

"C-cumming!" You warned him, and he was woken out of his thoughts. You orgasmed again, thighs shaking. He climbed further up your body, pulling your pants and panties down to grab the vibrator, which he pushed even tighter into your puffy clit to overstimulate you. You cried out, physically trying to fight him off with shaking, hip jerking and your nails burying into his arms. But he wasn't planning on stopping, dragging that sharp pleasure on and on, whimper after whimper sounding from you as you rolled your head on the pillow frantically.

It was so hot. Your body was so hot. Like your engines were overheating, like there was suddenly no more air to grasp onto. It was torturous, but pleasurable in unexplainable ways.

He didn't let the device slip even for one second, taking off all of your clothes with just one hand, including your shirt that was beginning to stick to your skin.

He could look at your pussy now. Really look at it, watch it twitch - the wet, leaking mess it had become. Your juices were sticking to the vibrator, making slick noises as Seungmin continued to play with you. Suddenly, he maneuvered the vibrator in his hand in such a way that it was extremely lightly grazing your clit, instead of pressing into it like it was before. It was a completely different kind of pleasure now, one that wasn't so hot and thick, it was light and ticklish, and it was replenishing your hunger for another orgasm.

"You're so slutty." Seungmin mumbled, and then he looked directly into your eyes. A pang of pleasure shot through your body at the eye contact, especially because he licked his lips. He was parched, hungry - not for food or water though, for you. His hard on was becoming uncomfortable. "I love it." He continued. "I love how slutty you are." He was still moving the vibrator up and down, very lightly rubbing your clit and letting the vibrations do the rest. His fingers were beginning to feel numb from holding it for so long. "God, look at you. So wet." You have no idea how, but he got you close to a third orgasm. "You're so sexy. I could watch you forever." He kissed your knee, your thigh, left feather light kisses on your belly. You wanted to caress him, grab him up and kiss his lips, but you were doomed to tightly grasp the bedsheets.

So close. So, so close. The pleasure sharpened and sharpened, until it finally freed you. You came again, but this time around he just helped you ride out your orgasm, body shaking and arching, legs locking around his body. Then, he turned off the vibrator. Your chest heaved, your head dizzy and ears muffled.

He moved up your body, leaving pecks on your chest, neck and then all over your face. You giggled, hand slightly shaking as you finally tangled it in his hair. You turned towards him, being met with the most beautiful, chocolate puppy eyes. They were full of admiration. He locked lips with you, in a quick but soft kiss that spoke volumes to you.

Kissing was never off of the table in your arrangement with Seungmin. Weirdly.

"Are we feeling good?" He asked you.

"Mhm." You hummed happily.

"Want more?"

"Yes, please. Need it inside." You were insatiable. You kissed Seungmin again and he couldn't help but smirk.

Crawling between your legs again, he watched your arousal leak out of your patiently waiting hole. He pushed two fingers in, curling them to chase after your gummy wall. You moaned, as if you were waiting to moan that whole night. You could finally feel it, that sweet drag inside of you. He opened you up, pushing his fingers against your walls, then began to pump them in and out, his palm slapping into your clit with every thrust. But it wasn't enough, it just wasn't. Your body was beyond sensitive, and it wanted something bigger, something more substantial.

As if he could read your mind, he got up from the bed, the loss of his fingers leaving you feeling empty. He took his clothes off and grabbed a condom, struggling to roll it around his raging hard on. He waited so patiently for this, and laughed maniacally at the string of whines and moans leaving you as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your swollen clit.

"So greedy and so eager." He teased and you nodded, biting your lip. He took that as challenge, softly fucking his tip inside of your hole. "Don't worry, I'll give you what you want and more."

It already felt heavenly when he was just fucking you with the tip. But then - then he pushed himself in deeper, and deeper. He went slow at first, dragging his hard, hot and heavy dick between your walls. You could feel him in every inch of you, in your body, in your mind, and in your soul. You were so wet, squelching so loud as he moved, that he was able to glide in you so easily, with absolutely no pain. He grabbed your hips to adjust you on his dick, lifting them in an angle.

"Help me find your spot, baby." He asked, and you shimmied your hips in his grasp, arching and angling yourself so that his dick was hitting you right where you wanted it. Like the obedient puppy he is, he began to pound into your g-spot, eventually his hand landing on your clit to rub it. Overwhelmed, your body began to burn, body shaking terribly as all of your senses overloaded. Feeling you clench so hard and shake, Seungmin slowed down, thinking you came.

"Did you come?"

"I don't know." You whined. "My body is so sensitive, I can't even think anymore." Even though you were whining and mewling, you were smiling; and so happy to be at Seungmin's mercy. You were never this intimate and vulnerable with anyone before.

"Do you want us to stop?" You definitely didn't want him to stop. He spent way too little time fucking you. Your walls were still craving the push of his cock.

"No, not yet. I'm not satisfied yet." For a second, he looked at you like you were crazy. But then a look of worry replaced it.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." From worried, he went right back to cheeky as he heard the lust in your voice. What a demoness you were.

"My naughty princess." He whispered into your neck.

Yes, you were a little crazy to want more when your thighs were shaking with every thrust. But that's something he loved about you.

How crazy you were.

Wrapping his arms around you tightly, Seungmin spun you two around so that you'd be on top. With a sparkle of mischief in his eyes, he watched you move to find your preferred riding position, giving him a view of your body, that he found to be so beautiful, so perfect. Sweat was rolling down your sides, and that tortured and passionate look in your eyes was driving him insane.

You couldn't quite make yourself cum. You tried, riding him, hands pressing hardly into his chest, into his very heart, rubbing your clit with desperation as you moved. But it wasn't good enough, so he decided to help you by thrusting up into you. You collapsed into his chest at the pleasure, and he rolled you around again, to be on top and retake the lead. Lifting one of your legs up for better access to drill your hole, he decided it was about time to wrap up.

Like the absolute maniac he was, he grabbed the vibrator again and showed it to you.

"May I?" So courteous. It was pissing you off.

"You may - hnng!" Seungmin knew this was the most certain way to make you see stars. It took a couple of seconds, too. All he had to do was thrust a couple of times, let the vibrator go wild on your clit and you were convulsing, screaming, clawing at him.

He kept going through your orgasm, chasing after his own high while you were in hyper-drive, clenching so tight around him your pussy might as well swallow him whole.

"Color?"

"Ah, yellow-!" It was a simple system, really. Green meant go, yellow meant it was almost too much, and red meant stop.

"Can I finish and wrap up?" As if you were crazy enough to ask for another one after all this. But even if you did, he wouldn't agree to it. Yellow is enough for him to stop - he doesn't ever want to hear red come out of your mouth. Thankfully, you agreed to end it.

And finally, you milked him dry. He came into the condom with a grunt, stopping the vibrator and stuttering his hips into you. You both breathed hard, one more spent than the other. You've always been impressed by Seungmin's ability to not cum unless when he intends to - how even in the world does he withstand it?

After he caught his breath, he pulled out and went to clean up and throw away the messy condom. He came back to pick you in his arms, carrying your naked body to the bathroom where he gently cleaned you up and allowed you to empty your bladder and untangle your hair.

When you came back , he already tidied the room and organized a cozy spot for you on the bed where he could wrap you in blankets and cradle you in his arms.

"How are we feeling?" He asked again, and you grew so, so fond of this sentence.

"Perfect." You reply, smiling at him, and he grins back. He's radiating happiness, and if you're not wrong, he's never smiled like this around anyone else but you. "Can we become official tomorrow?" You mumbled into his chest, and his heart didn't skip a beat, it skipped multiple.

"Are you serious? D-do... You wanna be my girlfriend?" Finally. Finally he could be allowed, to love you so deep, in such a disgustingly shameless way like he desired. He hoped he wasn't dreaming, and that his sex goddess was actually, really going to become his.

"Yes." You reply, booping his nose with your finger.

"I would love nothing more." Yes, yes, and a million more times yes. Can you even begin to imagine how happy you're making him?

"Perfect." You say back, kissing him briefly before burying your face in his naked chest.

"Perfect." He copies you, leaving tiny kisses on your hair. "You're perfect."

Your feedback is greatly appreciated~

If you want to support me, you can do so on my Ko-Fi!

-Admin Starlight ⭐

©violetmarkings do not copy or repost

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allmyocsarebritish · 9 months ago

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A passion for exploration

(Known in my notes as ahkaeology)

Pairing: Ahkmenrah X reader

Warnings(?): Grave robbing

A/N: okay okay I know it's really odd that a wednesday blog is now posting for natm but I went down a rabbit hole and I'm afraid I lost the entrance. History nerd has shown through well and truly :')

Also my first multi part fic :D

Title is courtesy of my mate Abi using AI

Ch 1

Grave robbing

Was desecrating the tombs of these once honoured, omnipotent kings of Egypt really something you were willing to do? Had the circumstances preceding the grave robbery been less bleak, the answer would have undoubtedly been an definitive no. These rulers commanded the uptmost respect in life, and here you were, excavating the only memory that remained. There wasn't a day that went by during your expedition in which guilt did not infiltrate your mind, suffocating your conscience and depriving you of any sleep, even before you came close to finding an ancient tomb. But it wasn't like you had any other choice.

Pushing down your gnawing feelings of dread, you trekked on through the Egyptian desert. Rough sand brushed against your lower legs beneath your simple, calf-length skirt, chafing at the skin. You were the only one of the troupe resigned to walking, as the youngest and the lowest class. Astride camels, the two men had a better view of the surrounding plains, though the blank, barren flats stretched on long beyond the horizon.

"The valley of the kings shan't be too far from this place" called Lord Carnarvon, map still in hand.

You held back a scoff, rolling your eyes as you knew he wasn't looking at you. If only he would admit none of you knew where you were going. The only clue you were given was that the gold rich landmark was announced by a grand pyramid at the end of a hollowed valley consisting of a multitude of others. What a shame that this was the Egyptian desert.

Filled with pyramids.

Days and days stretched on of travel, and eventually, you stopped counting the sunrises, resigning to the fact that this would only stop when the valley was found, however long that took.

As with most great things, the discovery of the valley occurred at a time when you least expected. You had taken advantage of a small oasis, resting for a few hours and permitting the camels an indulgent drink. Howard Carter dozed beside you, hat pulled low over his face, in order to shield his resting eyes from the blazing fire of the sun. Carnarvon had taken his liberty and ran off, or so you had hoped. No, in fact he was continuing the investigation alone and on foot, clutching a worn, shoddy map, which was twinged a grimey brown with years of filth accumulated around the edges of the paper. He never strayed far, though attempted to work out his bearings, using the wind or some pretentious bullshit you never bothered listening to. No, you were perfectly content drawing in the sand with a stick you had found and claimed an hour or so prior.

You were more than unimpressed when the sketches you had so tediously etched into the sand were scattered by Carnarvon sprinting back to the small camp. Jolted awake, Carter sat up sharply, alarm etched across his features.

"Blimey, good sir! You gave me quite the fright!" He exclaimed as you nodded in agreement.

"Are you alright?" You asked, though your eyes may have given away your disinterest (had either man been paying an ounce of attention).

"Shh!" Carnarvon interrupted your pleasant concern, to which you rolled your eyes and began attempting to recover your drawings. "Carter, good sir! I dare say I've found it. I've discovered the pyramid!"

A bold statement, and not the first time either. No, twice prior you had been dragged into the colossal ancient skyscrapers, only to find they were far from your true destination. Empty of any treasure or historical worth beyond the buildings themselves, you continued on, fruitless. Grand structures were quite an obvious goldmine, and previous grave robbers had left the tombs void of, well, anything.

Though of course, it was more than worth it to explore this fresh discovery, not taking any chances.

Time was of the essence, or so you were told. Camels saddled up in record time, you were hoisted up from your seat on the floor by Carter, borderline dragged up.

"Come, young Y/N, you heard his lordship. We may have found the Valley. Hurry on, now" his words were gentle, still treating you as he had done in your childhood, despite the fact you were now 19. It was something that you both appreciated and hated simultaneously. Howard was kind to you, much more so than Lord Carnarvon, who cared as little for you as you did for him. The mutual disinterested made for some long, awkward silences, and many threats to leave you in an unknown grave.

Still dragging you by the arm, Carter began to untie his camel, before finally letting go of you. The rush was honestly needless, you had been expeditioning for months at the least, what harm would a few mere minutes cause? But the men were adamant, and there was no arguing, especially not from a useless child as yourself.

"Can I at least keep my stick?"

Recieving no reply from Carnarvon and an incredulous stare from Carter, you concluded the answer was yes.

The journey from the oasis to the pyramid was shorter than anticipated, though still rather long. Another day passed, spent entirely wandering through the desert. Exhaustion washed over your entire body, and it was a war every minute to keep your eyes open. But, alas, you must continue, and eventually your trek drew to a close as with further examination, it became clear this pyramid was not what you were searching for.

Disappointment and rage filled Carnarvon upon the realisation that this was, in fact, not the Valley of the Gates of the Kings, but rather a singular, sandy pyramid. "Why, there must be some mistake!" He complained impetuantly, always one to shift blame elsewhere. You exchanged a look with Carter, who for once was willing to admit the incompetence of the troupe's leader. After all, what were the chances that a random pyramid would mark the infamous, esteemed valley?

From a distance it appeared mighty, though in fact that was more than likely a mirage caused by the monochromatic nature if the desert. Upon further examination, however, the pyramid was far from the grandeur anticipated by Carnarvon and Carter. Huge gashes and rifts in the brickwork jumped out from metres away. Crumbling brickwork was cratered, resembling a sponge with many holes, as dusty gravel avalanched down the sides of the architecture at every other interval. Overall it was worn and aged, therefore more likely to be looted and barren.

"I do say it's worth taking a look around, my lord." You spoke, addressing him clearly. Carnarvon waved his hand dismissively, wishing you out of his presence.

"Yes, yes. Go ahead child." Did you expect that? No. Did you need to be told twice? Also no. A small grin gracing your features, you took off into the pyramid.

Racing across the gravely surface of the desert, the sand provided a slight level of resistance. Nevertheless, you persevered onwards, stride refusing to falter. Basking in the glorious heat of the warm Egyptian sun's rays casting down on your face, you closed your eyes as you ran, chin tilted upwards. Naturally, this obscured your vision, rendering you blind, and therefore leading you to miss the gaping hole in the ground.

A short squeala of surprise passed your lips as you suddenly found yourself unexpectedly falling through the earth. The drop was rather long, and you landed in a heap on the floor of the dugout with a large thud. You weren't aware of how long you were unconscious, but judging by the severe lack of any source of light, sunset had passed. Pain shot through your body, coarsing through your veins and ricocheting off each of your bones in turn. Head pounding, you groaned slightly, trying to work out what in the hell just happened to you.

Darkness continued to fill the room, prompting you to fish within one of your pockets, pulling out a match and striking it aflame. The hidden chamber was large, that much you could tell even despite the dim lighting. Blinking twice as you began to, very slightly, register your surroundings, you noticed the sheer obscurity of this interior. You'd heard of the saying 'paintings that seemed to follow you around the room', but this gave a new meaning to those words.

No, wait.

Those paintings were moving, and not metaphorically. Eyes widening, you began to notice everything in the tomb writhing like a cluster of cobras. Onyx black cats prowled upon shelves, worn linen bandages slowly unfurling from being bound around each of their limbs. Animated drawings of men, deities and horses alike moved naturally, as though it were a perfectly normal occurrence. Shabti servants, the colour of oxidised copper and ranging from 5-30cm tall formed an army scattered throughout the tomb. Then, slowly, as though delaying the inevitable, your eyes trained upon it.

The sarcophagus.

Shuffling away rapidly, your back hit the decrepit wall of the hidden grave. The embodiment of terror plastered over your face, you watched in horror as the coffin began to violently shake. Your blood ran cold as bangs from the inside began to echo across the acoustic chamber. The rusted hinges were worn and flimsy, and the bolts began to unscrew from their holdings. Padlocks had become frail with ages and popped open, one almost smacking you square in the forehead, to which you responded with a short yelp. For a moment, all movement ceased, as though whatever was inside had begun to listen to the intruder in their grave. You took liberty of the fleeting moment, and began to craft a way out. The quiet was short lived, however, as, with one final, mighty heave, the final lock was broken.

The sarcophagus had been opened.

Your breath caught in your throat, the air thick and suffocating as you watched a wrapped hand emerge from the tomb. The coffin lid was ajar, though it didn't take much pushing to be removed almost entirely. Almost at once, the creatures residing in the grave marched forward, crowding their newly awoken master. Hidden in the shadows, you froze, hoping to remain unseen and ignored, and thus leaving unscathed. Soon enough Carter and Carnarvon were bound to find you?

Right?

A huge open grave couldn't be subtle, you only missed it as you eyes were closed. A stupid decision really, and you mentally cursed yourself.

You remained rooted to the spot on the freezing floor, as the reanimated corpse continued to rise from its grave. Surely this was an affect of your concussion; for all you knew this was just an unconscious dream. Besides, with all the travel in the desert, dehydration had undoubtedly left you delirious. It was at that split second of slight relaxation (if you could call it that) in which you spied the piles of treasure sloping at every corner of the tomb. What could you say - you were a grave robber. Carnarvon would be so proud - if you returned alive that was.

It began to claw at the ancient, frayed linen covering its face, causing your heart to race: it thumped so hard you swore you'd be given away. Praying you didn't go into cardiac arrest, you continued staring bug-eyed as the bandages unfurled in front of you, like the dramatic unveiling of an innovative new invention. Closing your eyes for the second time that day, you winced, raising your arms to shield your face from the horrors you were undoubtedly about to witness. Bile rose in your throat as your mouth drew dry. Images of rancid, rotting flesh peeling off bones flashed through your mind, prompting your whole body to tremble.

'I'm just delirious. Any moment now I'll open my eyes to be met with a chamber of riches.' You thought to yourself. Awoken mummies were the stuff of fairytales, and despite what Carnarvon and Carter believed, you were most certainly not a child.

Your internal monologue was cut short however, interrupted by the gentlest of touches placed on your arm. It prompted you to flinch away instantaneously, a soft whimper escaping. Eyes shooting open, you came face to face with the pharoah himself. And he was not what you had anticipated.

He wasn't the scary mummy you were expecting, he was a teenage kid.

Kind, cerulean eyes rimmed with a smoky black eyeliner stared into your own, azure oceans plagued with concern. Concern for you. Such a colour must have been pricelessly rare, sapphires amongst stones.

His golden, tanned hand had felt cold and lifeless against your arm, yet the heat it had radiated was electrifying, continuing to shoot jolts throughout your entire body. His skin was soft and smooth, betraying the fact that this royal had almost certainly never worked a day in his life.

Slightly unruly brown curls and a toned slender figure - he was actually rather cute.

"Are you alright? You seem a little... Lost?" He queried, to which you seemed unable to form a response.

"I- what.. who? What's going on?" You managed, stumbling over your words as your voice cracked slightly.

He gave a small smile, clearly sympathetic of your utter confusion, before gesturing at a golden tablet, as though that were supposed to help you in any way. Noting your expression of utter bewilderment, the undead Pharaoh elaborated.

"That's my tablet, blessed by Khonsu himself. It holds the power to awake the dead at night," he gestures to himself and the cats, who stared at you, blinking and unsure whether it would be safe for them to approach. Then, he pointed to the paintings in the walls and dragged his finger towards the mass of shabti dolls, both of which watched you with the same confusion. "Along with anything else resembling a life form that finds it's way into the presence of the tablet."

"Right." You answered, holding your head and still in shock.

"You needn't be afraid, you know. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Thank you, that is a relief." You swallowed thickly.

He hummed in response, smiling with an amused frown at the fact you feared him.

"So, who exactly are you?" You asked after a short yet not uncomfortable silence.

His lavish outfit betrayed the royal status he claimed in life, only accentuated by the Red Crown, or Deshret supporting a golden snake - the symbol of monarchy- resting atop his sarcophagus. Around his neck fastened a Usekh collar, adorned with teal and umber jewels and beads, and topped with golden accents. Sleeves of cloth draped over his arms, the fibres of the fabric woven with pure gold. The metallic shine of the element was evident in the chromatic sheen of the cape resting over the Pharoah's shoulders. At his waist there hung a Shendyt kilt, fastened with a cloth belt, also elaborately decorated. Beautiful gold jewellery decorated his figure, your eyes drawn in particular to the stunning gold bracelet cuffs he supported on either wrist, encrusted with gemstones, potentially aquamarine or topaz. Once again your attention was drawn to his face.

"I am Ahkmenrah, fourth king of the fourth king. And you are...?"

Stunned into silence for a moment by the regality of the ancient king before you, you blinked and paused briefly before answering.

"Y/N. Y/N L/N."

"So, Y/N, what are you doing in my grave?" Ahkmenrah asked you, barely trying to surpress an amused smile. Your cheeks flushed as you tried to form a lie. This ruler seemed nice, and regardless, you couldn't exactly tell him you were intent on raiding his tomb for riches.

"It was an accident. Really, it was. I was running, and, well, I wasn't exactly looking where I was going."

"Clearly." He smirked. "Why were you in the desert though? Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but you don't appear to be Egyptian."

"What? Oh, no I'm not. I'm English. I came out in an expedition with two other men; Lord Carnarvon and Carter. They're archaeologists." You winced at the manufactured truth. It wasn't entirely a lie, that was what the men claimed to be. Though all your troupe really planned to accomplish was glorified tomb-raiding, a fact that made you sick.

"And they left you here?" Ahkmenrah questioned incredulously, unable to fathom why on earth they would abandon you like this.

"Well, no. Not exactly. They allowed me to go check out the pyramid about 10 yards south, but, as o said, I fell down a hole." You blushed again, this time due to your own stupidity and clumsiness. This was not how to earn the respect of an esteemed king.

Ahkmenrah frowned. "So how long have you been down here?"

"Uh. I don't actually know, I was unconscious for a short time. Or possibly a long time, that I'm not sure of either."

Concern once again crossed the young Pharoah's face. "You poor thing! Are you alright? You're not concussed, are you?"

"Probably." You shrugged, further alarming him.

The next few hours were spent talking to Ahk, discussing everything from the legal affairs of ancient Egypt to the cats that accompanied him in his tomb. Over the course of the night, the two of you had grown closer, both in terms of friendship and literal distance. Most of the other inhabitants of the grave had deemed you safe, returning to their regular routine, and the most curious of the mummified cats, an (aptly) Egyptian mau apparently named Tivali, had become rather taken to you. Eventually, the exhaustion of the day had caught up with you, and you slumped against Ahk's shoulder. Revelling in his presence, contentment washed over you as, for the first time on your quest, you relaxed, finally at ease. Perhaps it was delirium, but in your sleepy state you swore you felt his fingertips grace against your cheek, the ghost of his lips pressing gently against your temple.

"Sleep well, my dear."

#night at the museum #natm #natm ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x reader #rami malek #rami malek x reader #egypt #ancient egypt #history #egyptology #archaeology #natm fandom #natm fanfiction #natm fic #night at the museum fanfic #natm au #egyptian pharaoh

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seventeenpins · 1 year ago

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triptych - pt ii

pairing: tommy miller x joel miller x f!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: after a shitty day, the man you've been chatting with all evening brings you back to his place only for you to discover he lives with his brother, an old flame of yours. they both fuck you. pre-outbreak. 18+

warnings: ooof i know i'm gonna miss something but here goes! multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pussy eating, dick sucking, ass eating/ass play, anal, joel miller is an ass man, double penetration, it's literally just porn there is so little substance here it's shameful, probably not incest but maybe a little??? like the brothers aren't into each other but their balls kinda touch so i'll leave that just in case..., light spanking, creampie, light breeding?, pls tell me if i'm missing anything important

a/n: wowowow i cannot believe how fuckin lovely y'all are, i hadn't been writing for years but i certainly never received so much feedback. thanks for reading and interacting and being part of such a cool and deeply horny community 😅 my asks are always open and i'd love to take on some requests! thank u to those who've sent some so far, i'm working on them now. besides requests, upcoming fics include a follow-up to bad girl and a vampire au 💕

also, thank you for indulging in this pairing!! (grouping?) i feel like a lot of threesome fics are very pro-joel with tommy cucking, and though they're fucking excellent, i wanted to give tommy some love and an equal place at the side of his incredibly hot brother.

check out part i

when you'd first sat down at that grimy dive bar, never in a million years would you have anticipated the scene that was unfolding in front of you now.

“shit," tommy says, "she looks so nice down on her knees for us, huh joel?”

joel looks feral as he stares you down. "such a good girl for us,” he agrees, “but we gotta see if that mouth can do more than talk.”

he's holding your wrists behind your back, while tommy grips a firm hand through your hair and unbuckles his belt with the other.

"open up, baby," tommy says, and presses one finger into your mouth and then another. he gently strokes his fingers in and out of your mouth, pressing into your tongue, slowly going deeper and deeper till you're sure you can feel the digits at the back of your throat. you can feel that you've started to drool a little, and tommy lets out a little groan at the discovery.

"you think you're ready for me?" tommy asks, and you nod.

in one smooth motion, his cock is springing from his boxers and the head is pressing gently at your lips.

feeling just the tip in your mouth, you already know your jaw is gonna hurt tomorrow. you relax your jaw and open wider, and tommy makes a slightly strangled noise that you take as a great sign.

as he fucks into your mouth, your eyes begin to water and tommy notices, brushing the tears away.

"you're takin' it so good," joel lavishes his praise on you and you never want it to end, "such a good girl, aren't you? keep that throat nice and open for my brother, won't ya? i know you wanna relax into it, baby, let him see just how much you love havin his dick down your throat."

it makes you moan, his words making you almost uncomfortably wet. tommy keeps thrusting down your throat, hips occasionally stuttering.

"shit, honey-" tommy says, and chuckles at your whine when he pulls his cock out of your mouth, "you're suckin' it so good, i need a break or i'm gonna come in that pretty mouth a whole lot sooner than i mean to."

joel drops your wrists and backs up to the sofa.

"why don'tcha sit on my lap, darlin'?" he grins, and pats on his inner thigh, his cock visibly straining in his jeans, a little damp patch visible where you're sure the tip is.

"only if you take your pants off," you say, and joel's eyebrows shoot up.

joel considers. "fine, but we're gonna work you up real nice before you get to sit on anyone's cock.

once you're sat on joel's lap, his cock straining against his boxers, tommy’s kissing you with such frenzied passion you feel dizzy. the sensation is only heightened when joel runs a knuckle down your spine, dragging over each vertebrae, massaging and tantalising. then both hands are grabbing at your waist and over your hips as if mapping you out. it’s not overtly hungry, not yet, but there’s a sensuality to it you didn’t quite remember from your brief and ill-fated encounters with joel years back. you're suddenly hit with a pang of sadness that you never stayed in touch. you would've liked to see him get his first grey hairs. instead it feels like you hit fast forward and jolted ahead.

joel's close behind you and you feel his hot breath on your neck as he pulls down the neckline of your top and licks a line along the hollow of your collarbone and back up to your ear, and the drag of his tongue is delicious. he nibbles on your earlobe and the sensation draws an obscene moan from your lips.

tommy’s close to you, too, his big hands cupping your jaw as he kisses his tongue deep into your mouth, running it along your teeth. his cock is still hanging out from his jeans, thick and hard, and you don't try to disguise the way you stare at it as you look him up and down.

"you've got far too many clothes on, sweetheart," tommy grins, and you pull off your top. before you can unhook your bra, joel's already unfastened it and is helping you pull it off.

tommy drops to his knees now, licking and sucking at your nipples, as joel unbuttons your pants, unzips them, and helps you lift your hips to yank them off of you.

the graze of tommy's teeth against the sensitive flesh of your breast makes you whimper and rut up on joel's thigh, and the brothers both laugh at your desperate noises.

"shit, she's needy, ain't she?" joel teases as he grips your waist with one hand and lets the other drag down to your panties, holding you in place while he starts to rub his fingers along your slit through the damp fabric.

he tugs at the band of your lace panties and ponders for a moment. "you partial to these?" he asks, and you shrug, "not particularly".

"good," joel says. that's all he needs to hear before he's tearing them apart and dropping the tattered fabric aside.

"well now you're just putting on a show," you tease, and he laughs but doesn't disagree. he just strokes a finger along your folds.

"i think you're a girl who likes a show," he tells you as he gathers up a little bit of your slick and slides it along your pussy. "now, what else do you like, darlin'? you want me to play with your lil clit? or just finger fuck you?"

"both," you whine, "any of it. all of it, please-"

he teases a finger into you very gently, just a little press that goes a little deeper each time he pulls it out and presses back in, till you realise he's sinking it in all the way to the hand with each thrust.

right as he adds another finger, to your surprise, tommy drops to his knees. he spreads your thighs wider and looks up for a moment, and you think you can feel joel nod behind you. that's all it takes, and tommy dives in. joel thrusts his fingers into you more urgently as laves kisses on and around your clit. he deepens it, pressing harder, flicking his tongue furiously along your swollen nerve endings and there's enough sensation that you know you won't last long.

"yes, that's it," you cry, and now it's your turn to grab tommy by the hair and press his face right where you need it the most. you're grinding up on his tongue while joel steadily continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, and you know you couldn't be quiet even if you tried.

"fuck," your words sound more like sobs now and you really don't give a shit, "keep going, just like that, joel you can go harder, tommy yes, lick my clit like that, i'm gonna- i'm gonna come-"

"good girl," joel talks you through it, "letting us take care of you like this. you need us to fuck you stupid, don'tcha? you're gonna leave here in the mornin' all stretched open, feeling us deep inside ya for days, huh?"

his filthy words are all you need to teeter over the edge- "fuuuck!" you scream, and you're positively panting now, verging on hysterical. you know joel can feel your pussy clench around him, you're so wet you're worried you've ruined joel's jeans, and you're so overstimulated that you can't speak more than a syllable or two at a time.

"oh you come so pretty," tommy says, pulling away from you to speak. you can see the way his lips are glistening with your slick before he kisses you on your inner thighs, peppering the soft skin with attention.

then, your eyes practically roll back in your head as he dives back in.

joel hasn't stopped fingering you, either, and once tommy's mouth is back on you, joel presses his fingers back into you more deeply again.

"shit, it's too much, i don't think i can take another this quick-" you try to say, but joel shushes you.

"i can already feel it coming," joel tells you, "can feel how your thighs are trembling, how you're already clenching down on me."

you're treading dangerously close to uncomfortably overstimulated, but you're also so completely turned on, you barely care. if you're gonna die in pursuit of a nut, so be it.

"fuck, you're right-" you tell joel, and tommy moans into you letting delicious vibrations pulse through you, and that sends you over the edge again.

you thrust and writhe and rut against them both, and tommy shows you mercy this time, drawing back and letting you get a little relief from the overwhelm of sensation instead of keeping his mouth on you.

you need a moment to catch your breath, and both joel and tommy rub soothing circles into your skin, joel's hands on your hips and tommy's on your thighs, and it feels exquisite.

"that's it, sweetheart, that's it-" joel soothes, and though your breathing's evened out, you know your thighs are still shaking.

tommy's licking up the arousal from between your thighs as if cleaning you off, and he looks up at you with almost dopey, half-lidded eyes, grinning.

"you taste like heaven, honey," he says, and he looks almost as fucked out as you feel. all this from eating pussy, you wonder, and that's another point in the favor of tommy miller being a man who likes to take care of fine things.

"i think i'm gettin' jealous now," joel teases, "i might need a taste, too."

without another word, tommy kisses you deeply and you taste yourself on his tongue. joel tilts your head back to meet him, and he kisses the taste from your mouth, groaning as he does it.

the sounds they're both making are so fucking hot, you love how they emote. there's nothing as unsexy as getting fucked by someone who stays absolutely silent throughout, and hearing them as pathetic as you feel works you up even more.

"what do you need, sweetheart," joel asks, and he's running a finger along your swollen folds now, teasing and torturous.

"you want us to fuck your pussy and your mouth," he asks, and moves to stroke a finger along your cheek, "you wanna have a big cock on either end of ya?"

you shake your head and joel raises his eyebrows.

"tell us what you want, baby," tommy says, and joel drags his fingers back along your pussy before tentatively using his forefinger to circle your asshole.

"please, joel-" you realise you're begging and it draws a laugh from tommy.

"you're a naughty girl, aren't you?" tommy asks, and the way he's grinning tells you that he wouldn't want it any other way.

"wanna feel full of you, both of you-" you whine.

"you gotta tell us, else we won't know what you want," joel says. from his tone of voice, it's clear he knows exactly what you want, but you need to beg for it.

"my pussy. and my ass. wanna ride both of you, feel both of you, get fucked by both of you-"

"jesus christ," tommy moans, "i bet we can make that happen, huh, big brother?"

you turn around to look at joel and his pupils are so blown, his eyes look black.

"bedroom." joel says, and it isn't a request.

tommy scoops you up in his arms and follows joel to his bedroom.

"drop her right here," joel says to tommy, and you're deposited on the edge of the bed, joel kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"looks so pretty for us," tommy says, and he sits down in an armchair near the foot of the bed and starts stroking his aching cock.

you'd been so fucked out already, you almost forgot you'd done almost nothing to take care of them. tommy's cock looks almost red and angry, and joel's is still tucked into his boxers, but the damp spot is spreading and it looks so thick through the fabric.

"let's get you ready for us, sweetheart," joel says, and without any more warning, he hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you up, legs spread, knees hanging over his shoulders. "i'm gonna eat this cute lil asshole, baby," he says and spits on your tight hole before rubbing his thumb gently against it, spreading the saliva.

he teases you with his tongue a little, testing it before pressing it flat and licking along it. you moan, and he growls against you.

you learn very quickly that joel miller is an ass man.

he eats ass like he was made for it, growling into you, spit dripping down his chest as he keeps your legs propped up on his shoulders, your thighs held in place with one arm. you're gasping through your moans and joel is drawing circles around your hole now, popping a finger into his mouth, and tentatively pressing it into the tight ring of muscle. it's fucking animalistic and you don't think anything could possibly make this better, until you notice the moans coming from tommy and the wet sounds of him furiously fisting his cock.

you're already fucked out from your first orgasms that you're practically boneless and limp, totally relaxed in a way you didn't often get. it made the feeling of joel fucking his fingers into you more glorious, building you up in a way you're not used to.

he makes quick (but thorough) work of opening you up, till he's got three fingers in your asshole and tommy's telling you how beautiful you look through his own choked moans, and you think you might lose your mind as you pant and grind and whine and joel isn't saying anything because his mouth is far too busy.

he pulls back and takes a good look at you. with someone else you might feel uncomfortably exposed but instead, you see hunger and desire in the brothers' and you know this is affecting them at least as much as it is you.

"i think we've got ya ready," joel hums, and he turns to look at his brother, "wanna check?" he asks, and tommy stands up and walks over.

you know you feel loose and ready, but the simple act of tommy popping a finger into your mouth to get it wet and then tracing it around your asshole, examining the preparation, drives you insane.

"i think she'll take it good for us," he grins and your heart flutters, "good girl," he says to you.

"you ready for us?" joel asks, and you nod.

"fuck me," you tell them.

joel lowers you down from his shoulders and tommy lays down on the bed before beckoning you.

"giddy up, cowgirl," he says with a wink, and you roll your eyes but take your cue.

you crawl up the bed, straddling his legs and then hovering over his cock which he's holding aloft.

"you good, baby?" he asks softly, and it's incredibly sweet in a way that makes you want to eat him up alive and also get fucked within an inch of your life by him.

"fuckin great," you tell him, and you pull him into a deep kiss before relaxing yourself over his cock, letting the head press into your pussy and sinking down onto it.

"jesus christ," he chokes out, and he sounds so desperate you can't help but fucking down on him, your ass slapping as you, move, his cock pressing so fucking deep into you and then you feel joel approach you from behind his hands gently running over your asscheeks and you know he's feeling the way your flesh bounces as you get off on his brother's cock. then, his hands are off of you, you hear the squirt of a lube bottle, and suddenly joel's thick lubed tip is pressing against you.

you try to thrust backwards towards it, but almost pull off tommy's cock fully, and it's like you're trying to ride both ends of a dick seesaw.

joel notices your frustration, laughing as you writhe.

"patience," he says, and delivers a sharp smack to your ass that thrusts you deeper onto tommy's cock. then, you can feel joel pressing into you, inch by inch.

once his cock head is fully sheathed in your tight ass, you take a moment to breathe before you start to find a rhythm that'll get all of you off at the same time. it takes a moment, and a few adjustments by all three of you, but before you know it, you can feel tommy brushing against your cervix and joel fully fucking into your asshole, practically rearranging your guts. with each rough thrust, they're fucking into you as one.

you're all moaning, gasping for breath. the slapping of skin against skin is delicious, and you're certain joel's balls are smacking against tommy's and you're not sure if it's weird or the hottest thing you've ever experienced.

you feel so full, you feel so fucking full it's perfect, it's delicious, you wanna be split open like this for the rest of time, want to feel two fat cocks using your holes for their pleasure, for your pleasure, because it all just feels so fucking good.

"fuck," tommy says, and it's the first thing any of you have been able to vocalise for a minute, "i'm gonna-"

"come in me," you tell him, cutting him off and he shudders.

that's all he needed before it hits him and he lets out a deep groan and unloads deep into you. it sets off a chain reaction. you come next, clenching around tommy's cock and exploding with a sob, your entire body shaking uncontrollably, and that tips joel over the edge, too as you whine at him, "come in my ass, joel-" and then he makes a strangled noise and you feel his balls tighten and hips stutter and he's unloading in you, pulse after pulse of thick come.

you lay there, tommy beneath you and joel on top of you, their cocks still twitching inside of you. gently, you tap joel's hip and he grunts and rolls over, pulling out of you. you gingerly pull yourself off of tommy, and then immediately collapse between the two of them.

"well, shit," you say, so totally blissed out you're floating on a whole other level.

"jesus christ," tommy says, and then joel starts laughing and it's the best thing you've ever heard.

"you doin' alright, darlin?" joel asks, "we take good care o' ya?"

you nod, consumed with so much euphoria you can't use your words properly.

"good- good joel," you say, "good tommy," you pat them each on the thighs and joel snorts.

tommy pops off the bed for a moment and rummages around in the other room before coming back to ask, "need a hit?"

you nod and he places the joint between your lips and sparks it. you take a deep inhale and slow blink as you sit yourself up and look at both of them.

"let's clean ya up, darlin," joel says, and, as it turns out, tommy brought a washcloth as well as weed. and he had my priorities straight you think.

"if you want me out of your house," you tell them, "you'd better tell me now so i can call a cab. otherwise, i'm gonna pass out here in the next twelve seconds."

"i won't be here in the morning", joel tells you, "got an early shift, but as i recall, tommy's specialty is box pancakes and they sometimes turn out edible."

tommy playfully slaps at his brother, and then kisses your cheek. joel kisses your cheek, too. tommy cleans you up a little, and you fall contentedly asleep between these two beautiful men.

the last thing you think before you drift off is fuck that promotion, it's not such a bad day after all.

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy x joel x reader #tlou fic #tommy miller smut #joel miller smut

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ohkeios · 12 days ago

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Might I entice you with a moodboard for my first ever oneshot posted in ao3? :3

Title: Haunt my dreams

Rating: EXPLICIT

Contents: Ford Spines/Reader, Age Gap, Boss/Employee Relationship, two academics flirting by having intellectual conversations, sexual tension, FERAL FORD, research assistant and research mentor dynamics, explicit content

✓ Word count: 11,624

If you're interested, please check it out and give your thoughts! It's under the same username I have here :D

Link to the fic will be posted below this short snippet of said fic, enjoy!

It had been two years since you moved into this weird and unmapped location at the far edges of Oregon, where both the unexplainable and unimaginable populated in its active state. Two years since you’ve graduated college in your hometown, and two years since Dr. Pines had discovered you from your published research which guaranteed your first PhD.

You did have some doubts traveling to another state because of an unknown letter appearing in your mailbox one day, with nothing but an intricately drawn map and specific instructions on how to get to that location. Whoever sent it to you could’ve just sent an email, but somehow your curiosity piqued upon seeing the two initials signed at the bottom.

F. P.

You’ve seen those initials somewhere in your university library, and so you did your own research. The way your jaw dropped when you found out that the letter sent to you was from none other than the esteemed Dr. Stanford Pines, an incredible man possessing twelve PhDs, who was an absolute genius in his prime from what you’ve heard. Still is, you guessed. He had published multiple researches that guaranteed all those Phds in his name, and a few copy of his manuscripts were in your university’s library.

You totally did not spend a week reading all of his research that you can get your hands to.

Can you blame yourself though? It was hard not to develop a great sense of admiration when someone possessed so much knowledge, skills, and experience that could be considered humanly impossible to acquire in such a short time.

But give it to Dr. Pines and his twelve PhDs to take the crown.

When you finally mustered up the courage to travel to Oregon, the sight of Gravity Falls greeted your entrance, and immediately you did not regret coming to this uncharted region.

Then, you finally met the man who you dreaded to meet.

At first, the two of you kept a professional distance with each other. Never crossing past the boundary of a mentor and assistant. It’s how it is supposed to be. However, as time progressed, you were able to melt that icy barrier of his and he was able to mold you into your full potential as well. Behind his cold exterior, you discovered a rather charming yet eccentric side to him.

It took you some time to adjust to how fast-paced his mind functioned. You found it fascinating, in a sense, how the mind of a genius works—never resting and always on the search for more.

Ford was insatiable—for knowledge, for answers, and for every bit of information he could gather and store in that brilliant mind palace of his.

And he was not greedy with his discoveries, he shared everything he had learned with you in the span of your first year mentoring under him. If anything, he was more than enthusiastic to learn how genuinely curious you were to his life’s work. Of course, it never went beyond anything academic. Always staying on your separate sides of the line of professionalism.

Although, there was still a boundary you knew you shouldn’t cross, you were often tempted to ask a few personal questions. Given his mysterious nature, you knew he hid things from you.

Specifically from his past.

It was understandable as to why he did, you still haven’t earned enough of his trust for him to entertain you with his past endeavors. However, that did not stop you from formulating your own theories about your mentor.

Every time Ford shared a story with you, you observed how quickly he would avert the subject whenever he would trespass an imaginary line he placed. As if he was stopping himself from revealing anything.

Why? You have no idea.

But you never pushed him to talk, respecting his boundaries and his secrets.

He did the same thing to you as well, always so observant to your body language and how you respond to his questions. Once he suspected a shift in your demeanor, Ford would immediately divert his question to another or simply drop it completely. You were also thankful for his respectful manners, even though it amused you how difficult it must be for him to hold off his questions.

Ah, yes. The ethic of a researcher.

Always trying to question things, never stopping until they have their answers.

Your relationship deliberately changed the more you spent time with him, trespassing the line of a friendship, you could say. You were beginning to unravel more sides to him, and he, in turn, began seeing you as more than his assistant. You became his friend, and you reciprocate the sentiment.

The two of you exchanged banters, made up silly theories, and went on expeditions all across Gravity Falls. You were certain that you’ve seen it all, but your mentor constantly reminded you that you haven’t seen anything yet compared to what he has.

And you believed him.

It was given that you found his profound intellect and masterful expertise highly impressive, but it doesn't mean there’s nothing else to admire about him.

You don’t deny the fact that Ford was one incredibly attractive man. Despite his age, his broad and sturdy physique was enough to make any woman (or man) swoon, developed from the years from his travels and was still well-maintained to this day. Not to mention his rugged features and witty humor. Only a fool would not agree with what half of the town says about him, but it seemed only he was the only one who’s completely oblivious to the ungodly amount of sex appeal he exudes—though, calling him a fool did not sit right on your tongue.

A silver fox, as what you heard some women say behind his back whenever you explored the town for groceries and supplies.

You were not an idiot, you were one of those women who appreciated a little eye candy. And it came in the form of a messy silver-streaked gray hair, cracked glasses, beige trench coat and red turtleneck.

Though, you used to believe that these thoughts were nothing more but a harmless silly crush for your mentor.

How much of a liar were you to keep pretending as if you weren’t affected by the things he does?

You knew you had it bad when you started to see him differently. Suddenly, every bit of interaction you have with him would always send your hopeless romantic heart into a wild frenzy.

Those lingering touches that never failed to make your skin run hot, the occasional prolonged eye contact with him during your discussions, his kind and gentlemanly gestures, and the way he would immediately seek your company after a day off.

These only worsened your crush on him, and you hated yourself for it because it felt wrong.

But his praises. God, his praises.

“You’re doing so good, little one.”

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

“You learn quickly, darling.”

“That’s my smart girl.”

Little one? Sweetheart? Darling? Smart girl? You swore to the stars above you would jump at him the next time he decided to pull a move like that.

You were certain he had an idea of his effect on you, but you quickly brush it off, not assuming anything of it.

However, those moments fueled your nightly fantasies the moment you were back in your apartment. You can’t remember how many times you’ve brought yourself to release with the sound of his name freeing you from your torment. You often wonder what his impression of you was now. Did he still see you as his trusted assistant? A close friend? An obedient student perhaps?

My little one. You gasped at the thought of him running his skillful hands all across your warm skin, eliciting the same scorching sensation he unknowingly ignites within you. He would know your body inside and out, memorizing every dips and curves those lovely hands of his can reach, and mapping out the areas he liked with a possessive mark.

My sweetheart. Thoughts of his smart mouth gliding over your neck, teasing you with slow yet sensual kisses that would render you breathless. His kisses would trail down to the valley of your breasts, giving each one an appreciative lick, before slowly descending farther to where you needed him the most.

My darling. Your thighs would be colored with bruises with the shape of his fingers, a reminder of his thirst for you. He would be meticulous with his hungry ministrations, taking his time to draw out your climax with every slow swipe of his tongue. You could imagine him testing how many fingers he could fit into you to prepare for the size of him.

My smart girl. God, you want nothing more than to feel the length of him pushing inside you. That painful yet delectable stretch that would leave you squirming for more as he starts out slow, singing his praises next to your ear. His body pressed closely against yours, your thighs around his strong waist, as he drives himself into you with vigor and passion.

But you hid all these forbidden thoughts away, shame and guilt overwhelming you the moment you were in the same room as him.

A one-sided crush was bad, but on someone who saw you as nothing but their colleague and trusted friend? Now, that’s dangerous.

You can only pray to the stars that your heart will simply move on from wanting someone you can’t have before it completely breaks.

#ford pines #ford pines x reader #gravity falls #fanfiction #ao3 #stanford pines #gravity falls fanfiction #stanford pines x reader

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badger-tales · 22 days ago

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Everywhere and Nowhere//F.W x Reader (3)

a/n: okay only two more chapters left i hope people are enjoying this!!!

word count: 5.3k

Request:

Hiiii! :) I was wondering if you could do a oneshot about a fred weasley x reader idea I've had for forever where the reader was a hat stall for a really long time. To the point she had to be put aside to be sorted later. Plot twist, she never gets sorted. I always wondered what would happen if the sorting hat couldn't decide what house to put someone in. I imagine she would have a room in the faculty tower or something, and because she doesn't have a house but she is a student, she would be able to figure out how to get into every common room. I'm really tired right now, so sorry if this sounds really bad, I promise it sounds better when I'm coherent. You don't have to do this if you don't want to, though 🫶

Thanks sm!!!

Returning for Third Year

When Y/N returned to Hogwarts for her third year, the familiar sensation of isolation lingered in the back of her mind, but it no longer had the same sting it once did. By now, she had grown accustomed to it—the quiet meals alone at the far end of the Great Hall, the solitary walks between classes, the lack of a house to tether herself to. The whispers about her unsorted status had long since faded into the background, and while there was still a slight awkwardness from her peers, it no longer troubled her. She had learned to move through the castle without being noticed, almost like a ghost in her own world.

But the truth was, she didn’t mind it. Not anymore.

She had something none of them did. Something far more exciting than house rivalries or Quidditch matches.

The map.

What had started as a way to fill the empty hours of her first year had evolved into an obsession by the second, and now, as she entered her third year, it had become her passion. The secrets of Hogwarts were vast, and Y/N had dedicated herself to uncovering them one by one. Her notebook, worn and filled with sketches, had grown into something far more than just a hobby. Each hidden passageway, each forgotten room marked on her map was like a key to a puzzle only she could solve. The map had become her anchor, her purpose, in a place where she had once felt adrift.

This year, she no longer felt the pressure to fit in. She no longer felt the pang of envy when she passed the house tables in the Great Hall or overheard groups of students whispering in the corridors. House points and common room gossip seemed trivial compared to the mysteries that lay hidden within the walls of Hogwarts. While the other students moved through the castle in their predictable patterns, Y/N roamed freely, slipping through secret doors and winding staircases that only she knew about.

The castle, with all its secrets, had become her playground.

There was a quiet power in that. As Y/N wandered the halls, she felt a sense of ownership over the castle in a way that the other students couldn’t understand. They might have their house colors and their common rooms, but she had something deeper—an understanding of the castle’s hidden heart, of the spaces that had been forgotten over the centuries.

Each time she added a new passageway to her map, it felt like a victory. Her notebook, now frayed at the edges from being carried everywhere, had grown thick with discoveries. Her original map had become a sprawling, intricate web of lines and symbols, each one representing a piece of Hogwarts that no one else had found. She had drawn routes that bypassed entire sections of the school, shortcuts that allowed her to move undetected between floors, and hidden rooms filled with forgotten relics of the past.

On more than one occasion, she had come close to being caught by Filch, but her knowledge of the castle’s hidden paths always allowed her to slip away unnoticed. And while the other students were busy with their social lives, with trying to fit in and navigate the world of house rivalries, Y/N was free. Free to explore, free to uncover, free to chart her own course through the ancient, magical school.

She had become so in tune with the castle that it almost felt as if Hogwarts itself was guiding her. Sometimes, a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye would lead her to a new discovery. Other times, a strange sense of déjà vu would pull her toward a corridor she had never noticed before. It was as if the castle, with all its magic and history, was whispering its secrets to her alone.

And that was enough.

There were moments, of course, when Y/N would catch sight of her classmates laughing together, or huddled close in the common rooms, and she’d feel a faint twinge of something—loneliness, maybe, or the distant echo of a desire to belong. But those moments were fleeting. The castle held too many mysteries, too many possibilities, for her to dwell on the things she didn’t have.

Besides, she had learned something important over the past two years: belonging wasn’t always about fitting into a group or being sorted into a house. It could be something quieter, something more personal. Y/N had found her own way to belong within Hogwarts, even if it didn’t look like anyone else’s experience. She belonged to the hidden spaces, the forgotten rooms, the secrets of the castle that no one else had the patience or curiosity to uncover.

One evening, after a long day of classes, Y/N found herself sitting in a quiet alcove on the fourth floor, her notebook spread open on her lap. She ran her fingers along the familiar lines of her map, tracing the paths she had already found. Her map was still incomplete—there were so many areas of the castle she had yet to explore, so many secrets left to uncover. But she had time. Hogwarts was vast, and she knew there was more waiting for her to discover.

A soft smile played on her lips as she tucked her notebook back into her robes and stood up, ready to continue her exploration.

The other students might not notice her as they passed by in their groups, but that didn’t matter. Y/N had found something far more valuable than acceptance or recognition. She had found her purpose.

And as she wandered down the familiar halls, her footsteps silent against the stone floors, she felt a sense of peace. Hogwarts was hers in a way no one else could understand. And that, more than anything, was enough.

---

Discovering the Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor Passageways

As her third year unfolded, Y/N became completely immersed in her secret pursuit, her quiet ambition driving her to uncover the entrances to each of the Hogwarts common rooms. The thrill of knowing something as guarded as the access to each house’s sanctuary was intoxicating—more exhilarating than any spell she could learn in class or any Quidditch match she could watch from the sidelines. The castle had always felt like a mystery waiting to be solved, and now Y/N was determined to unlock its deepest secrets.

Her first major breakthrough came just before Halloween, when she discovered the entrance to the Slytherin common room. For weeks, she had been skulking around the dungeons, careful to avoid the temperamental Peeves and the ever-vigilant Filch. The dark, damp corridors were maze-like, but Y/N had learned to navigate them with ease, memorizing the twists and turns that would keep her hidden from prying eyes.

Late one night, when the castle was eerily quiet, she stumbled upon a statue of a coiled snake, half-shrouded in shadow. Something about it felt... off. She had learned to trust her instincts by now, and they told her to investigate further. Running her fingers along the statue’s smooth stone surface, she pressed lightly on the snake’s head. To her delight, the statue shifted slightly, revealing a hidden passageway behind it. Heart pounding, she slipped inside, following the dark tunnel until it opened into a door that faced the Slytherin common room.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she stood just outside, peeking through the narrow gap in the door. The common room was as grand and mysterious as she had imagined—low ceilings, dark green furnishings, and the soft glow of enchanted lamps reflecting off the black lake that loomed just beyond the windows. She didn’t dare step inside, not yet, but the knowledge that she could made her feel powerful in a way she hadn’t felt before.

*The Slytherin entrance... checked off the list.*

Ravenclaw Tower presented a different challenge. The entrance wasn’t tucked away in the shadowy depths of the dungeons, but perched high above, nestled within the winding staircases of the castle’s tallest tower. It took Y/N weeks of patient searching and careful observation to find a way in. She wandered the area often, trying to blend in with the Ravenclaw students and noticing the subtle nuances of the area.

One afternoon, when the sun was casting long shadows across the corridors, she noticed something peculiar: a small, hidden panel beneath a window ledge, nearly invisible unless you were looking for it. Her heart raced as she knelt down to inspect it more closely, gently prying it open to reveal a narrow, spiraling stairwell that twisted upward. She could hardly believe it—the stairwell led directly to the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room, bypassing the need to answer the riddle-guarded door. She marveled at how many students had likely passed by that window ledge, never realizing the secret that lay just beneath it.

With Ravenclaw’s entrance added to her ever-expanding map, Y/N was starting to feel invincible. But there was one final challenge, one that had eluded her for months—Gryffindor Tower.

The Gryffindor common room was notoriously difficult to approach, not only because it was always bustling with activity, but because the Fat Lady’s portrait stood guard over the entrance, requiring a password for access. Getting in seemed nearly impossible. Yet Y/N’s keen sense of observation, sharpened by years of quiet study, eventually led her to a discovery that no one else had noticed.

One day, while making her usual rounds near the tower, she spotted a tapestry that shifted ever so slightly as students walked by. It was an almost imperceptible movement, something easily dismissed as the result of a breeze or a careless bump from passing students. But Y/N wasn’t like other students—she didn’t dismiss such details. She watched it closely, day after day, until she was sure there was more to it.

One evening, after most of the students had gone to bed, she returned to the tapestry. With no one around to see her, she pressed against it, searching for a mechanism. Sure enough, behind the woven threads, her fingers found a hidden latch. When she pressed it, a narrow corridor opened up behind the tapestry, winding its way through the stone walls until it reached the back of the Gryffindor common room.

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief as she peered through the small opening. She could see the roaring fireplace, the comfortable armchairs, the students chatting and lounging without a care in the world. Gryffindor Tower had always seemed impenetrable, but now, Y/N had found a way in—a secret path that no one else knew about.

With the entrances to all four common rooms now marked on her map, Y/N felt a surge of triumph like never before. She had done it. The map, now filled with intricate lines and stars marking each passageway, had become a work of art—her own personal blueprint of Hogwarts’ hidden world. She had charted territory that no other student had ever touched, and it gave her a sense of accomplishment that nothing else at Hogwarts ever had.

Sitting in her quiet room in the faculty tower, Y/N unfolded the map and traced the paths with her finger, her heart swelling with pride. The Hufflepuff common room, the Slytherin dungeons, Ravenclaw Tower, and now Gryffindor Tower—she had found them all. This was her Hogwarts, a place filled with secrets only she knew. She didn’t need the validation of house points or the approval of friends. She had something far more precious—a castle full of mysteries, and the knowledge that she had unlocked its most hidden doors.

She carefully folded the map and tucked it away, a small smile playing on her lips. The school year was still young, and though she had uncovered more than most students ever would, she knew there were still more secrets waiting to be found.

This was just the beginning.

---

Meeting Fred and George

It was late in the school year, just after the winter holidays, when Y/N’s solitary exploration took a turn she hadn’t anticipated. The air in the castle had grown colder, the long shadows from the dimming winter sun making her secret wanderings through the ancient stone halls even more atmospheric. This particular evening, she was following one of her favorite hidden passageways—a narrow, winding tunnel that led from the fifth floor down to the lower dungeons. It was a route she had taken many times, enjoying the quiet solitude that came with knowing a secret no one else did.

At least, that’s what she thought.

As Y/N descended deeper into the passage, the sound of voices suddenly drifted toward her. Startled, she flattened herself against the rough stone wall, holding her breath. It wasn’t common for anyone else to know about this passage—at least, not anyone she had ever seen. The sound of footsteps echoed off the walls, growing louder as the voices approached. They were getting closer. Her heart raced as she waited, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

Then, two figures appeared around the corner.

Fred and George Weasley.

Y/N recognized them immediately—everyone at Hogwarts did. The Weasley twins were infamous for their pranks, their mischievous grins a constant reminder that chaos was always just around the corner when they were involved. But what on earth were *they* doing here?

Before she could make her escape, one of them spotted her. Fred's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, his voice filled with curiosity rather than suspicion. "Oi, who’s that?"

Caught, Y/N hesitated, gripping the edges of her cloak as if it could shield her from the situation. She glanced toward the exit, considering whether to dash away or confront them. But neither twin looked angry—if anything, they seemed intrigued, their usual glint of mischief clear in their expressions.

"What are you doing here?" George asked, stepping closer with a knowing smirk. "This isn’t exactly a popular hangout spot."

Y/N swallowed, feeling the tension in her shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Maybe she didn’t need to run. Taking a breath, she decided to be honest. After all, there wasn’t much point in pretending. "Exploring," she answered quietly, her voice steady. "I’ve been mapping the secret passageways of the castle."

Fred’s eyebrows shot up, his face lighting with interest. "You’ve been what?"

For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Y/N felt a flicker of pride. She had never shared her discoveries with anyone before, but something about the twins’ reactions made her feel less guarded. Slowly, she reached into her bag and pulled out her well-worn notebook, flipping it open to reveal the intricate map she had been creating over the past two years. The parchment was filled with detailed lines and symbols, marking every secret passage she had uncovered, including the entrances to each common room.

Fred and George leaned in, their eyes wide with awe as they took in the map’s complexity. "Blimey," Fred muttered, clearly impressed. "You’ve mapped all this yourself?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a surge of satisfaction as she met their astonished gazes. "I’ve found most of the secret passageways," she said softly, "and I’ve marked the entrances to all the common rooms."

The twins exchanged a glance, their identical grins spreading wider. George was the first to speak, pulling something from his own bag with an air of mischief. "Well," he said with a playful glint in his eye, "you’re not the only one who’s been mapping Hogwarts."

From his bag, George pulled out an old, worn piece of parchment, unfolding it carefully. At first, Y/N didn’t understand—it looked completely blank. But then George tapped the parchment with his wand, murmuring, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Suddenly, lines began to appear on the parchment, spreading like ink on water, forming intricate drawings of the castle’s layout. But this wasn’t just a simple map. Tiny, moving dots labeled with names showed students, staff, and even creatures wandering through the castle in real-time, their movements charted across the detailed design. Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief as she realized what she was looking at.

"The Marauder’s Map," Fred explained with a grin, clearly enjoying the look of surprise on her face. "We nicked it from Filch’s office a while ago."

Y/N was speechless. The map was incredible—far more detailed than her own, and the fact that it tracked everyone’s location was an incredible advantage. Yet as she stared at the Marauder’s Map, a part of her still felt protective of her own creation. Her map wasn’t just a collection of routes and passageways—it was the result of hours spent exploring, discovering, and piecing together the castle’s secrets on her own. The journey, the solitude, and the sense of triumph she had felt with each new discovery made her map special in a way the Marauder’s Map couldn’t match.

"We should compare notes," George suggested, nudging Fred with a grin. "Looks like we’ve got some exploring to do."

For a moment, Y/N hesitated, unsure of how she felt about sharing her discoveries. She had always worked alone, and this map—her map—had been something deeply personal, something that made her feel connected to Hogwarts in a way no one else had. But as Fred and George began talking excitedly about potential secret rooms and tunnels, their enthusiasm infectious, Y/N found herself drawn in.

Fred glanced at her, his expression encouraging. "What do you say? Between the three of us, we could probably uncover all of Hogwarts’ secrets."

Y/N smiled faintly, her fingers brushing over the worn edges of her own notebook. She wasn’t sure how she felt about teaming up with the notorious pranksters, but there was something intriguing about the idea. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to do this alone anymore.

"Alright," she said softly, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "Let’s compare notes."

As they huddled together, the twins animatedly discussing their next move, Y/N felt a strange but welcome sense of excitement. She wasn’t used to sharing her discoveries with anyone, but perhaps the Weasley twins were exactly the kind of company she needed. Their energy, their curiosity, and their obvious respect for her work made her feel more connected than she had in a long time.

Maybe her solitary exploration was about to change—but Y/N couldn’t help but feel that this might be the start of something new. Something a little less lonely, and a little more thrilling.

---

Slowly Building Trust

Over the next few weeks, Y/N found herself crossing paths with Fred and George more frequently. Whether it was by coincidence or by their intentional design, she wasn’t entirely sure, but the twins had a way of making their presence known—popping up in the most unexpected places, their trademark mischievous grins always in place. At first, their interactions were centered around their shared interest in the secrets of the castle. They sought her out during their explorations, eager to compare notes on hidden passageways, swap strategies for outwitting Filch, and brainstorm new ways to sneak around undetected.

Their friendship didn’t develop overnight. Y/N was still guarded, wary of letting anyone too close to the world she had spent years cultivating on her own. Her exploration of Hogwarts had always been something private, a personal pursuit that gave her a sense of belonging in a place where she had otherwise felt isolated. But Fred and George were persistent, their charm weaving its way into her carefully constructed solitude.

At first, their questions were practical. They wanted to know every detail about the secret entrances she had uncovered, especially the shortcuts she had mapped. In return, they offered up their own secrets, using the Marauder’s Map to guide her to unexplored corners of the castle. They shared tips on how to avoid the more nosy professors, told her which times of day certain corridors were least patrolled, and even pointed out a few hidden alcoves she hadn’t yet found.

But as time passed, something shifted. What began as a simple exchange of information—passageways for tricks—started to grow into something else, something less transactional and more personal. The twins didn’t just want to know about the hidden passageways anymore; they wanted to know *her*. They began inviting her to join them in their own schemes—small pranks, at first, nothing too serious. They tested her boundaries, teasing her in that light-hearted, good-natured way that was uniquely Fred and George.

Y/N had never been one for pranks or trouble, and at first, she hesitated, feeling uncertain about stepping into their world of mischief. Her own relationship with Hogwarts had always been about discovery, about uncovering the mysteries hidden beneath the surface of the castle. But the twins had a way of drawing her in. Their energy was infectious, and slowly, she found herself warming to their ideas.

It started with little things—sneaking into Filch’s office to rearrange his precious files, or helping them plant trick sweets in the corridors to catch unsuspecting students off guard. Each time they roped her into one of their plans, she’d feel a rush of nervous excitement, a mixture of uncertainty and exhilaration. She wasn’t used to the thrill of causing chaos, but something about it felt freeing, as though she were shedding the cautious shell she had built around herself.

One evening, after sneaking through a particularly narrow passageway that led to an abandoned classroom, the three of them sat catching their breath, laughing quietly as they recounted their latest prank—swapping out the sugar in Professor Snape’s tea with salt. Y/N had been hesitant about that one, unsure about crossing a line with someone as intimidating as Snape, but Fred and George’s uncontainable enthusiasm had pushed her past her reservations.

“You should’ve seen the look on his face!” Fred said, still chuckling, his eyes gleaming with delight.

George grinned, leaning back against the wall. “I think he might’ve actually turned green for a second.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, though her heart was still racing from the close call. “You two are going to get us all expelled one day,” she said, shaking her head.

“Ah, you’re starting to sound like Percy,” Fred teased, giving her a playful nudge. “Don’t tell us you’re having second thoughts.”

She bit her lip, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Maybe just about pranking Snape. That was... bold.”

George raised an eyebrow, leaning in with a grin. “You didn’t seem too shy about it when you slipped the salt into his tea. You’ve got a knack for this.”

Y/N laughed softly, a bit of color rising to her cheeks. She hadn’t realized it at first, but being with the twins was different. They didn’t treat her like an outsider, like the unsorted student that no one quite knew what to make of. With them, it didn’t matter that she wasn’t in a house, or that she spent most of her time in the hidden corners of the castle. They accepted her as she was, quirks and all.

Over the next few weeks, her caution began to dissolve bit by bit. Fred and George’s enthusiasm for their schemes became a shared joy, something that pulled Y/N out of her solitary existence and into their chaotic world. They dragged her into pranks and capers that left her heart pounding with excitement—whether it was sneaking into Filch’s office late at night to move his entire stash of confiscated items, or slipping prank sweets into the pockets of unsuspecting students. Each new adventure was a small step outside of her comfort zone, but it was also a step toward something new, something thrilling.

It wasn’t just about the pranks, though. As she spent more time with the twins, their friendship began to grow deeper. The late-night explorations and shared secrets turned into long conversations, moments of laughter, and the occasional shared silence when they were too tired to keep scheming. Fred and George had a way of making her feel like she belonged—not just to their plans, but to Hogwarts itself. For the first time in her life, Y/N wasn’t just the quiet girl who wandered the castle alone. She was part of something larger, something meaningful.

One night, as they sat on the steps of a hidden staircase they had just discovered together, George turned to her with a grin. “You know, Y/N, we’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, glancing between the twins. “What’s that?”

Fred leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Have you ever thought about taking your map and doing something... bigger with it?”

“Bigger?” Y/N repeated, curious.

“Yeah,” George said, nudging her. “You’ve got the most detailed map of the castle we’ve ever seen. We could use it—expand it, maybe even improve it. Think of the possibilities.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the idea. Her map had always been something personal, something that belonged to her alone. But the thought of sharing it with Fred and George, of creating something even greater together, filled her with a sense of excitement she hadn’t expected. For so long, her map had been a symbol of her solitude, but now, maybe it could be something else—a symbol of friendship, of adventure, of a shared pursuit.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Fred grinned, clapping her on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

And just like that, Y/N’s world expanded, growing from the solitary paths she had walked for so long to a shared journey with two unlikely companions. She wasn’t just the unsorted student anymore. She was part of something bigger, something filled with secrets, mischief, and the thrill of discovery.

And it was exhilarating.

---

A New Kind of Belonging

By the end of her third year, Y/N’s life at Hogwarts had shifted in ways she hadn’t expected. No longer did she roam the castle alone, silently mapping its hidden corners and passageways in solitude. Fred and George, her unlikely companions, had woven themselves into her life, their presence transforming her once-quiet exploration into something far more thrilling and shared. The friendship that had begun so cautiously, with her hesitant to open up, had grown into something steady and real.

Fred and George didn’t care that Y/N wasn’t sorted into a house, and they never once made her feel out of place for it. Her unsorted status, which had once seemed to hang over her like a cloud, no longer mattered when she was with them. They didn’t care that she was quieter than most, or that she spent hours lost in her own world of discovery. What they did care about was that she was brilliant at finding secret passageways and surprisingly adept at sneaking through the castle without getting caught. And, to her surprise, Y/N found that she didn’t mind stepping into their world of mischief and pranks.

The Marauder’s Map and Y/N’s hand-drawn map became inseparable tools, two sides of the same coin. Her intricate sketches, filled with hidden routes and forgotten rooms, complemented the magical map’s real-time tracking of the castle’s inhabitants. Together, they used both maps to navigate Hogwarts in ways no one else could. They discovered new hidden rooms—some filled with old, forgotten artifacts, others perfect for planning their next scheme—and they reveled in the freedom that came with knowing Hogwarts so intimately.

Fred and George had a gift for turning even the most mundane discovery into an adventure. With them, every new passage or hidden alcove became an opportunity for mischief. They plotted out pranks with the same precision that Y/N used to chart secret routes, and soon enough, the three of them became an unstoppable team. Slipping through Hogwarts’ twisting corridors, dodging professors and Filch, they moved with a confidence that no one else in the school seemed to possess.

It was exhilarating. For so long, Y/N had felt like Hogwarts wasn’t truly hers. Even with all the secret passageways she had found, there had been a sense of distance, an invisible barrier between her and the rest of the school. But with Fred and George, that barrier dissolved. She wasn’t just wandering the castle for the sake of being alone anymore—she was part of something, part of a shared purpose. And that feeling, that sense of belonging, was something she hadn’t even realized she needed until she had it.

Late one evening, after successfully pulling off a prank that left the Great Hall covered in floating, enchanted sweets, the three of them retreated to one of their secret hideaways: a small, forgotten room on the fourth floor that Y/N had found early in her first year. The walls were lined with dust-covered books, the air still and quiet in contrast to the chaos they had left behind.

Fred leaned back against an old armchair, still laughing softly. “I think that might be our best one yet,” he said, grinning widely. “Did you see Filch’s face?”

George smirked, tossing a small, enchanted sweet into the air and catching it. “I thought he was going to explode. Priceless.”

Y/N sat on the floor, her back resting against a bookshelf, her notebook open on her lap. She smiled faintly, the adrenaline from the night’s antics still humming through her veins. “You two really do have a knack for getting into trouble,” she said, glancing up at them with an amused look.

Fred shrugged, his grin never fading. “We’ve always said, trouble’s more fun when you’ve got company.”

George glanced over at her, his tone more genuine than usual. “And you, Y/N, make it a lot more interesting. Can’t imagine we’d have found half of these places without your map.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at their words. For years, her map had been a symbol of her solitude, something she had clung to as a way to prove her worth to herself. But now, it was more than just a personal project—it was part of something bigger, something shared.

She traced her fingers over the edges of her notebook, feeling the worn, familiar texture of the pages beneath her fingertips. “I guess we make a pretty good team,” she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Fred and George exchanged a look, then nodded in agreement. Fred leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “We do. And next year, we’re going to need you more than ever. Got some big plans in the works.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Big plans?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” George said, grinning. “You’re in on it now, so you’re stuck with us.”

There was something about the way they said it, so casual and so sure, that made Y/N realize just how far they had come. She had spent so much time at Hogwarts feeling like she was on the outside looking in, but now—now she had her place. It might not have been within the walls of a common room or beneath the colors of a house banner, but it was hers, nonetheless.

She had her secrets, her map, and her sense of purpose. But now, she also had Fred and George. Their friendship, however unconventional, was solid and real. It wasn’t built on house rivalries or shared dormitories, but on a mutual respect for adventure, discovery, and a shared love of mischief. And as she sat there in the quiet of their hidden room, surrounded by the warmth of their laughter and the familiarity of her own maps, Y/N realized that she had found something even more valuable than the secrets of Hogwarts.

She had found her place.

And as she closed her notebook, feeling the weight of it in her hands, she smiled to herself, knowing that next year—and the years to come—would be filled with even more discoveries, more adventures, and more of the shared joy she had never known she needed.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like she belonged. And that was something she would never take for granted.

Tagged: @buzzbuzzlilbee

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasely x y/n #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley x reader

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olderthannetfic · 10 months ago

Note

I used to think books with "bestseller" labels must be great and that they're the books I should try reading but now that people are getting popular through social media first before their books even release made me think otherwise. People seem to be buying the book like it's celebrity merch. The books could still be good but I now read multiple reviews especially negative ones which has lists of what they think is not good about the books. When I see "bestseller" now I just think "A lot of people bought this." but also ask "Did they like it though?".

Question though: you think "bestseller" label in published books is equivalent to kudos or hits on fics? I mean there's a filter to see items listed that way and there are people who base their fic reading list to it.

*snickering*

Okay, the thing you have to understand about 'bestseller' as a term is that it's time-dependent.

It's not just kudos: it's kudos in the first 24 hours. It's movie profits on opening weekend.

This shit means literally nothing if you're consuming the art even six months later, never mind after a decade.

I think it's stupid as fuck to sort AO3 by kudos unless you're just researching what gets a lot of kudos. I think having this as a default behavior encourages bullies to force targets into archive-locking (which almost invariably reduces kudos and hits) and penalizes authors who don't waste a lot of time trying to game the system. I also don't think it's actually effective for finding good fic.

But buying books based on bestseller status is even dumber because all it means is that a book was marketed correctly to have all its sales in the same week.

Here's someone's attempt to explain. He estimates that you need to sell only 5,000-10,000 copies in a single week to make it on one of the NYT lists.

There are a few other quirks to it, but... yeah... 5k copies in a slow week. Nationwide in the US. For something released by a big publisher with reach. Counting pre-orders if it's the very first week.

And then you get to put "NYT Bestseller" on the cover forever even if it never sold more than those 5k preorders.

Forget booktok promoting garbage: if the numbers are really this low, then "bestseller" meant absolutely nothing for years and years before modern social media.

It's not even cumulative like kudos are. If they mean that, they label it with "Over blahdy-blah million copies sold", not "bestseller".

Like with kudos, the only time this is really useful is if you're chasing buzz. If you want to know what other people are making noise about this week, then yes, you should check out the current bestseller.

It is okay to chase buzz, especially if you are a book blogger and trying to keep your audience up to date on what's going on in publishing! Just be aware that that's what you're doing.

If you want a book that will be culturally relevant for longer than five minutes or a book that is well-written or a book that is to your taste, you should look for some other method of book discovery.

And hey, you might end up with that very same bestseller! It might be a great book, actually. It's just that the "bestseller" status isn't what tells you that.

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ohtobeleah · 1 year ago

Text

Goodbye, Goodbye // Jake Seresin

-> A Terms of Endearment Blurb

Summary: Jake & Amilia have been trying for a year, when they do fall pregnant it leads to a much bigger discovery and an even bigger heart heartbreak.

Warnings: Pregnancy journey. Pregnancy talk. Miscarriage. Ovarian Cancer. Jake Seresin x OC reader. PLEASE READE THE WARNINGS

Word Count: 4.2k

Author Note: Day Twenty One of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Near Death Experience. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The love between Jake Seresin and Amilia Fisher was as fierce as love could be. It was no secret to anyone around them that they had a love that burned so deep and so profound that they would forever and always be each other’s end game. Each other's soul mates. For all that they had been through and worked on, new love grew in the form of healed wounds and new trust.

They had, for what it was worth—survived The Great War.

“I can’t keep doing this.” Amilia sighed as she crawled into bed beside her husband with yet another negative pregnancy test. “It’s been twelve months of constant let downs.” She frowned at the stupid plastic first response she knew she shouldn’t buy but kept repurchasing anyway. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t keep doing this to myself Jake.”

Amilia laid her head on Jake's shoulder as he sat up in their bed. The two of them had been trying for one whole year. One whole year of negative pregnancy tests. One whole year old preconception vitamins. One whole year of sperm health tables. One whole year of tips and tricks Amilia’s Flo app had given her. One whole year of prime positions and menstrual cycle tracking and temperature monitoring and diet changes.

One whole year of nothing by failed attempts and broken hearts.

“I know, and hey—I know we’re both on the same page about wanting this.” Jake cooed as he took the negative test from his wife’s hand. “But maybe it just isn’t our time?”

“So do we keep trying or do we go see a fertility specialist and try to figure out what’s going on?” They had been told to try and convince naturally for twelve consecutive months before reaching out to a specialist. That was the recommendation. But with every month that passed them by, Amilia grew more and more frustrated and concerned that something could be wrong.

“I think we keep trying, but do that in tandem with talking to a specialist.” Jake cooed. “I love you, I want this yeah?”

“I want this too—so bad.” Amilia could feel her bottom lip quivering. She wanted to be a mother so badly, she wanted to give Jake the chance to be a dad. He was already the best uncle to Odette and Riley, even if he was halfway across the world three months at a time. “I just don't know if I can't handle another negative test, my body is literally designed to have children and I can't even get a stupid fertilised egg to embed in me.” Jake had to laugh sympathetically as Amilia snuggled into his side with a huff. She was doing her best, he knew that.

“For all we know it could be me who's shooting blanks.” He reminded her. “We’ll talk to someone who can help us alright, but for now, let's just appreciate the time we have together before kiddos and prams and family passes and all the sleepless nights we’ll surely have.”

“I know you're frustrated.” Amilia mumbled into Jake's side. His tan torso was hot to the touch, her walking talking furnace. “You don't have to be the optimistic one all the time.”

“Trust me–” Jake admitted in the low light of their bedroom the two shared in Townsville, Australia. ”I am, but I'm not frustrated with you.” Jake felt like he had to make that clear as clear could be. “I think I'm just frustrated that we’re kinda told that if you have sex you get pregnant and die.” It was an over exaggeration of the poor sex education system, but Jake pretty much nailed it. “And now that we’re trying, it just sucks that it hasn't happened the way I always thought it would.”

“Makes me jealous of Fe for getting pregnant so easily.” Amilia felt awful saying it, but she knew her husband wouldn't spill her horrid thoughts. “Riley was a thought and then she was real in the span of a year and Nicky well, we both know Nicky was a little oopsie baby, our children, if we keep going at this rate will have sixty five year old parents in their teens.”

“How do people do it.'' Jake sighed as he sunk a little lower into the bed and pulled his wife into his chest. “Oopsie babies, I mean–I just don't get it, how do you not know?”

“We’re horrible people aren't we?” Amilia chuckled to herself as she curled into her husband. They were ready for the next big phase in life, but something was holding them back from stepping into parenthood. Some divine intervention that was telling them now wasn't their time. But my god did they both want it just as bad as each other.

“Hmm, maybe.” Jake kissed Amilias shoulder softly as he revelled in the scent of her body wash. “But no one needs to know, and all those people out there getting pregnant the first time round? They’re just overachievers.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Amilias period was four days late. She initially didn't think much of it because she knew when she got stressed it messed with her cycle, but something deep inside her was telling her to take just one more test. Something was telling her that if she took just one more, that it would be the positive she had been praying for.

“If you’re fucking with me man I’m gonna be pissed.” She wasn’t a religious person, but Amilia believed that there was something bigger than herself out there. So as the little stick sat upside down on the counter of her bathroom vanity—she spoke to whatever the hell that bigger idea was. “I’m serious, I can’t take it.”

The timer felt obnoxious, but Amilia jumped as the silence in her bathroom was broken by the set standard alarm her phone rang with. Three entire minutes had passed and she was standing on the edge of a cliff she knew that she’d jump off if that plastic stick was negative. She couldn’t do it anymore, it was torture.

“Alright, fuck it.” She groaned as she reached out to check the pregnancy test. To Amelia's surprise though it wasn’t what she had originally been expecting. “Oh my god—“ It was positive. Her first positive. “No fucking way.” Two very pink very clear very there lines were looking back at Amilia as she cupped a hand over her mouth and crouched down. Her knees felt weak, she had to remind herself to breathe or else she was going to pass out from the pure joy that was pulsing through her veins.

“Holy shit, I’m pregnant!” Amilia had thought about all the different ways she could have told her husband that they were expecting, she even had one of those ‘Hi Daddy’ newborn onesie tucked away somewhere deep in their closet for a rainy day. But as her feet hit the pavement of the Townville Naval base, Amilia made a B-line for the administration building to get herself a visitors pass.

“Your wife’s looking for you.” Gucci told Jake as he caught up with him in one of the hallways. “She’s in G building.”

“Oz is on base?” Jake replied with caution lacing his words.

“I just saw her, she asked if I saw you to send you her way.” Jake wasn’t about to stick around and play twenty one questions with his wingman. He let his feet carry him over to G building where he’d been told his wife was looking for him. Jake's locker was in G building, so was the canteen he frequented and the rec room he liked the most—so it was only natural for Amilia to assume that would be the easiest place to start.

“Oz?” Jake cooed as he rounded a particular corner and saw the back of his wife’s head. “What are you doing here? Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

Without question or any explanation, Amilia ran towards her husband with a smile so bright and a laugh so full of joy that it nearly knocked Jake to the ground. She jumped into his unexpecting arms that were quick to catch her as her legs wrapped around his wide but muscular frame.

“Babe!?”

“I’m pregnant!” Two words, it took just two words for Jake Seresins heart to implode in his chest. “We’re pregnant Jake we fucking did it!”

“You’re pregnant?” Jake never thought his heart could get any bigger, but he knew in that very moment his heart grew—it imploded and grew back twice the size it originally was to cater for the little life the two of them had created. “Are—are you sure?”

Amilia Fisher couldn’t be sure until she had a blood test done, but when the ten pregnancy test she took all from different brands came up as fat as fuck positives—she knew they couldn’t be lying. She was pregnant.

“I’m sure, I’m so sure Jake, we’re gonna be parents!”

Jake sat his wife back down on the ground but he never let her go. He kissed her with enough passion and love to have her heart fluttering inside her chest and her lungs burning with desire. His hands cupped her flushed with heat cheeks so she couldn’t pull away—and through the entire embrace, Amilia couldn’t stop smiling against her husband's lips.

“Holy shit we’re pregnant!” Jake let his forehead settle against his wife’s. “Oz, I love you so very much.”

“We’re gonna have a baby Seresin.” Amilia laughed as she ran the pad of her thumb across Jake's cheek. “Us, you and me, with a baby.”

“Half you half me huh.” Jaked cooed, he was over the moon. Amilia widened her eyes in response before she laughed, they were having the baby they had dreamed of having.

“Oh god what a combo—“

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“You’ll need to make an appointment with an OBGYN for an ultrasound at around six to eight weeks.” With a single blood test, the pregnancy that Jake and Amilia had been waiting for had been officially confirmed. “But congratulations, you are very much pregnant, Mrs Seresin.”

“You hear that Oz?” Jake cooed as he squeezed Amilias hand in the doctor's office. “Very pregnant.”

The two were keeping everything on the downlow, Amilia, albeit very excited and full of joy to finally experience her biggest wish—wanted to wait till she was out of the first trimester until her and Jake started telling the people closer to them. However, that didn’t stop Jake from telling you, his closest friend, his sister, his person.

“Amilias pregnant!?” You shouted down the phone. “Oh my god congratulations! How far along is she?”

“Uh—we just left the doctors office like five minutes ago, four weeks?” Jake looked over to where his wife sat in the passenger's seat, beaming at your reaction over the loudspeaker. “She’s here with me.”

“Oz! You’re pregnant oh my god!” You wanted to cry, Jake was going to be an amazing dad and Amilia was going to be the best mum. That kid was already so loved at conception. “I’m so happy for the two of you, I’m gonna have to tell Rooster you know that right?”

“I never thought this day would actually come but yeah, we’re pregnant.” Amilia reached out for her husband's hand before he brought it up to his lips. “And yeah, that’s fine, but don’t tell the cowboy alright I wanna tell Rhett myself.”

“So he can tell you that you’re an idiot?” You laughed as you sat in the livingroom at midnight, feeding little Nicky. Bradley was on a mission which left you outnumbered three to one.

“Yeah, but I know he cares.” Amilia and Rhett Abbott were quite close for two people who pretended like they couldn’t stand one another.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The happiness didn’t last for very long. Seven weeks into Amilias first and what would ultimately be last, something went wrong. The kitchen was buzzing with music as she chopped up a quick garden salad to go with dinner, sausages Jake was cooking on the barbecue. She hadn’t changed out of her pyjamas all day, and had barely gotten out of bed. But as six o’clock rolled around on Saturday afternoon, Amilia felt a little more like herself and hoisted herself up.

“Almost finished with these bad boys.” Jake called out over his shoulder through the window that led back into the kitchen, he could see his wife, the love of his life in the corner of his eye. “How’s that salad looking?”

“Diced and chopped daddio—“ Amilia teased as she flicked the rest of the cherry tomatoes off the chopping board into the bowl. “I’ve just gotta add the—“ Oh, that didn’t feel good.

“Add the what babe?” Jake thought he just didn’t hear what Amilia had said, he thought he had just missed the tail end of her sentence, but she’d stopped mid sentence at the feeling of her lower abdomen cramping, like a bad period pain. “Oz?” Jake frowned as he cut the gas and took the sausages off the hot plate.

“The cheese.” Amilia clenched her jaw as she tried to breathe through the pain, it only got worse with every breath she took. “I just have to add the—Ahh!” It felt like someone had stabbed a hot knife into her and had begun to drag the aerated edge across her body. “Ahh—“

“Amilia!” Jake had all but forgotten the tray of sausages he was carrying in when he saw his wife on the floor in a heap, curling into herself to try and stop the pain. “Hey, what’s wrong, hey—?”

Breathe, in out, in out. She was fine.

“Babe I can’t help if you don’t te—“ The blood told Jake all he needed to know before Amilia could even begin to get her words out. “Oh god—no.”

“Jake—“ Her husband's name was the only thing Amilia could will herself to speak as she saw the blood between her legs, seeping into her pyjama pants. The same pyjama pants she’d been in all day because she just hadn’t felt well. “I’m fine, we’re okay, we’re fine, we’re, aaahh—!”

Everyone needs just one person in their lives who say things like ‘You got this’ ‘I believe in you’ and ‘You will find courage and energy in yourself that you normally wouldn’t have had before.’

But more importantly, that person needs to also say the things that no one wants to hear. And if things were to go wrong? They would be there in the mud for whatever reason.

Jake was that person for Amilia Fisher-Seresin. He had the ability to say something’s wrong when she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

“Honey, I think we need to get you up to the hospital.” He had the ability to worry, to care and understand that something was horribly wrong and that there shouldn’t be this much blood or this much pain when it came to implantation bleeding and spotting. Amilia was having what Jake could only assume to be a miscarriage and all he could do in that moment was put his own feelings of grief and sorrow aside to help the only woman he’d ever truly loved. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

“No no no no no—“ Amilia cried as she bawled her fists into the cotton of Jake's t-shirt before her tears strained the white fabric. He could smell the iron in the air. “Jake—“ She sobbed. “Our baby, somethings wrong.”

“Let me take you to the emergency room sweetheart.” Jake had to hold his own tears back, this wasn’t what he pictured would happen when Amilia had told them they were gonna have a baby together. “Please? I have to make sure you’re alright baby, your bleeding and—“ Jake knew he had to say it. “You are what’s important right now, you and your health baby because I can lose that baby, I can deal with that grief but I can’t lose you both alright.” Jake felt his wife’s heart shattering as she screamed into his embrace right there on the kitchen floor. “I can’t lose you both alright so I need you to let me get you some help.”

Jake thought he was a pretty tough guy, but as his wife cried in his arms bleeding as she lost their baby on the kitchen floor, he knew he wasn’t strong enough to handle this without a support system. He needed you. He needed your strength and resistance and your determination and strength to get through this. He needed you to hold him up because his knees felt weak but he had to get up. He needed to be there for his wife through everything.

“I’m sorry—“ Amilia sobbed as Jake carried her out to the car koala style. He was going to be covered in blood but that didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered besides getting Amilia the care she needed. “I’m so sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong sweetheart.” Jake cooed. “Not a damn thing.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“We had to give her a sedative in order to examine your wife, Mr. Seresin.” Time was a fickle thing, it was neither here nor there. “She’s asleep, but for what’s it worth she’s incredibly lucky to be alive right now.” Jake could feel his phone ringing in his back pocket—you had been calling non-stop for updates ever since Amilia was taken back for an ultrasound to confirm what everyone already believed to be a miscarriage.

But he’d never remember just how he ended up standing outside his wife’s hospital room in oncology just four hours after he’d brought her into the emergency room. Jake hadn’t even had a chance to change his shirt.

“It’s critical—if we don’t get in there and operate soon, it’s hard to tell how much time she’ll actually have.” The Doctor didn’t sound like he was making any sense, Jake couldn’t process anything he was telling him. This didn’t make sense, none of it did.

“Ovarian cancer?” Jake tried to wrap his head around how his wife, how Amilia, could have ovarian cancer. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s aggressive, from the scans alone I’d say critical.” Again, nothing Doctor Thomas was saying made any sense to Jake. “Mr. Seresin, has your wife ever experienced any pain during intercourse? Painful cramps outside her normal period or—“

“Not that I’m aware of, no.” Jake knew Amilia like the back of his own hand, so the news of her diagnosis on the back of losing their child was far too much for him to handle. “What does she need? Treatment wise?”

“I can't say for certain without exploring her reproductive system more closely but if the ovaries are too far gone, we’re recommending a full hysterectomy.” Jake's brain was trying its best to compute all the little bits of information being given to him as he watched Amilia sleep. She looked as peaceful as she could be. “If the cancer is as aggressive as we believe it to be, if we leave behind any viable tissue it could spread–the miscarriage was a direct result of the tumours constricting her reproductive organs, it's a miracle she was able to convince to begin with.”

“We’d been trying for a year–” Jake explained softly, his entire world was crashing around him. All that he knew, all that he hoped for in the future was crumbling. “We had an appointment with a fertility specialist the month she fell pregnant, we never ended up going because we ended up pregnant.”

“I'm very sorry for your loss–” Doctor Thomas sympathised as he placed his hand on Jake's shoulder. The mullet kinda took away from the seriousness of his tone. “But I truly believe the miscarriage your wife suffered saved her life.” It was a take Jake never thought he’d have on such a horrid situation. “It would have killed her, she’s a very lucky woman, the blood she lost wasn't just from the miscarriage but from one of the worst ovarian torsions I’ve ever seen.”

There was so much blood, far too much blood for Jake to ever forget. He grew up on a farm, his uncle owned an abitur, he knew that humans held a lot of blood but when you physically see that much blood coming from someone you love it's hard to comprehend the magnitude of the destruction until after the fact.

“Your wife is scheduled for surgery earlier tomorrow morning, it's after visiting hours but given the circumstances i've already organised for a cot to be bright up so you can stay with her.”

“If you can't save her life without the hysterectomy, I want you to do it.” Jake nodded as he let a few stray tears fall down his cheeks. “Yeah–yeah if it's all or nothing just do it.” He pressed his lips into a fine line to try and stop his bottom lip from quivering. “But if there's even a slither of hope that you don't have to, please–just try and give her a chance, she wants to be a mum so bad.”

“I understand Mr. Seresin.” Doctor Thomas replied. “This isn't my first rodeo.”

“Unlucky for you.” Jake tried to chuckle as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It's mine.”

“Everyone I ever meet for these types of cases is their first, and if I can offer one piece of advice I’d say that there are other ways to be parents, adoption, foster care.” Doctor Thomas knew by the gaze in Jake's eyes that he was mentally checking out of the conversation. “Go be with your wife, i'll be by in the morning for post ops.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

By the time Amilia was coming to in her groggy and drugged out state, Jake had already had a good cry in the dark. The hospital room was dimly lit, Jake didn't want his wife to wake up to the harsh fluorescent lights. Hell he didn't want her to wake up in general. He wanted her to stay sleeping peacefully forever, blissfully unaware of the horrors that awaited her when she woke.

“Hey there Oz.” Jake cooed as he brushed Amilias hair from her face. “I've got you baby, I'm here.” It felt like time had stood still since she first screamed out in pain in the kitchen. Jake knew when he got home that ants would be everywhere from the sausages that had fallen from the tray he carried in and the salad you never put away. “Shhh i've got you Amilia, I’m here.”

“I lost our baby.” Amilia hadn’t even opened her eyes properly and she was already incredibly aware of the heaviness in her chest. The grief she felt inside her soul. “Jake–I lost our baby.”

“It's not your fault sweetheart.” Jake sat as close as he possibly could to his wife's bedside. “We lost our baby, I know, I know and it hurts, it hurts so much but Amilia, it's not so simple.” Jake had been dreading having this conversation, he didn't know how to tell his wife she was going in for surgery. That she was sick, that she had ovarian cancer and that they may have to perform a full hysterectomy just to save her life. “The doctors figured out why it took us so long to conceive.”

“It's me, isn't it.” It broke Jake's heart to nod, but that didn't mean he thought his wife was broken. “What's wrong with me?”

“You uh–” Jake couldn't stop himself from sobbing as he stood to climb into the hospital bed to hold his wife. “You're okay, that's the main thing okay, and you're gonna be fine once the surgery is over and I'm gonna be by your side through everything.”

“I just lost our baby, I don't think I'll ever be alright again.”

“You didn't lose our baby sweetheart, you have ovarian cancer–that's what caused the miscarriage, that's what, that's what stopped us from conceiving earlier.” Jake explained as simply and as slowly as possible as he held Amilia close to him and kissed her forehead. “Losing our baby saved your life.”

“Jake, I don't have cancer.” Amilia scoffed as she shrugged him off. “Why would you even say that right now?” Jake was caught between a rock and a hard place, he didn't know what to do or what to say. “What are you even talking about right now?” That's when it hit, Jake physically saw the moment Amilia was able to process what he had said. “Oh–” Her shoulders slumped as she settled back into him. “Oh no, no no no no I can't, I can't, I don't–”

“Shhh.” Jake cooed as he wrapped his wife back into his arms. “I'm here, I've got you, you're okay.” For everything the two had been through this was certainly about to be their biggest battle, but Jake Seresin was adamant that he would be there every step of the way. “Our baby saved your life, and I'll never be able to thank them enough.”

“How bad is it?” Amilia sobbed into Jake's chest. “The cancer? And be honest Jake, please dont lie to me.”

“It's bad enough.” Jake sobbed as he held Amilia closer than he ever had before. “I'm just grateful you're alive.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

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