#pretty good selection of outfits!

[josouhenshin]

while I'm replaying the demo portion of the game to see if I can finesse it so the girls get harassed less, here's some supplementals: graphics from the trans 2 site's quiz thing. ideally these help with figuring out how to access those characters' routes & good endings.

as usual I can't really offer complete or especially accurate translations but I think the gist of these is... under the break

top: your suggested coordination under the portraits: good compatibility character

from top left to bottom right

tachibana mizuki

today's vibe is "sporty casual!" simple clothes that don't leave out sex appeal is a great way to coordinate. try getting the most from denim and sneakers!

misaki sumino

today, try going for erotic-cute appeal! maintain girlish vibes while experiencing beauty in the way only an adult woman can with translucent camisoles and colorful fishnets!

hirosawa yuu

todays theme is: romantic maiden! lace, frills, pin tuck... incorporate taste that makes you think "girl." gentle and sweet, express the purity of a maiden's heart.

asakura jin

for today, let's be a cute little seductress ☆ don't just be cutesy, try incorporating a premeditated sexiness too. be a little adventurous, with a miniskirt you might just tempt someone!

minami kasumi

for today, go with sweet and casual! with orthodox items, achieving a cute balance is the way to go. these are the clothes everyone is anticipating, so show off your fashion sense. keep your hands off!

shiboura minato

today, dress like your womanhood is a weapon and attack! create a strong bodyline and show a glimpse of cleavage. and of course, use your makeup wisely as well. effectively show off the appeal of bare skin, and speak with what you've naturally got. do your best!

shiraki miho

today, let's be honest about what you like! you've always been longing for them, those costumes... sailor uniforms, nurse outfits, gothic lolita dresses, and so on. whatever the case, try dressing cute to your heart's content!

kasuga rei

today, aim for "cool young lady" (cool oneesan)! when you combine pretty and sexy clothes with harder edged items, the result will be spicy and effective. employ a strong posture without forgetting the feminine. you just gotta pair your clothes with carefree gestures!

[monochromatiica]

hehehehehehehehehehhe

[wyvernest]

bright red lust

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!trophy wife! reader

warnings: smut, car limo sex, misogynistic undertones (reader feels good about being a trophy wife), pda, teasing, dryhumping, unprotected sex, creampie, cowgirl

summary: you attend a gala with miguel and tease him until he finally gets you to himself in his limo

translation: "que rico" = 'how nice'

Any woman’s dream is to be his wife. For his rank, his money, his reputation, his everything. And it feels so good to know that he's so desired.

Because you’re at his side, not them. It’s you whom he spends his money on. It’s you whom he buys all the exquisite dresses and gowns for, all the best things you could ever want or need. It’s you whom he makes love to after a tiring day. Or after you wake up. Or anytime, for that matter.

You’re irreplaceable, but at the same time at his disposal. You don’t see it as a price paid but rather as a bonus. You’ve never been pampered so good before, loved so good, fucked so good.

So that’s why, whenever he has a new gala or special event to attend, you let him pick your dress out of all the various selections you spend so much time on finding. 

“Too long.” he dismisses, vision darting from your mauve-satin covered legs to your face. He’s manspreading on the king size bed of your presidential hotel room, hair dishevelled and half lidded eyes sleepy, relaxed. 

“You’re so picky today. I only got a few more!” You giggle with a faux offended expression. Behind the façade of worry that he won’t be satisfied with any of the looks, you secretly love these little fashion runaway sessions, feeling like his own personal top model, trying out different outfits for him. If you weren’t in a hurry, you wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to sit on his lap and accidentally grind your ass on his crotch when you got up as part of the little show. 

“Mm.” He hums, seemingly unaffected by your playful frustration. He knows you love it when he acts so pretentious and superior, but he loves you, and he loves the enthusiasm with which you show him everything. “Next, bebita. This one’s sombre.”

After a few minutes and struggles, you manage to pull on the pièce de résistance; a bright, blood-red skin tight satin dress. Miguel’s eyes widen at the sight of you, brows raised in silent approval and admiration. The length isn’t a problem this time, your beautiful legs and thighs peeking out with every step through the long slit on the right. The fabric is wrapped so deliciously around your breasts, slightly pushing them up together, plump and tantalising. 

"Maybe this one's a bit too much? I-"

"Do a 360." His eyes lit up, attentive and pleased. You twirl, making sure to slightly stick your ass out, checking yourself out in a full body mirror nearby.

"Me gusta." He gets up from the bed, gripping your waist to place a needy kiss on your cheek, before placing his lips on your own. You take his face in your hands, melting into his embrace. “This is the one.” His deep, low whisper sends shivers up your spine, your brain short circuiting. Who are you to say no to him? To those pretty, dark brown, red-tinted eyes?

"I'm gonna go get ready now. Thank you, papi." You turn around, yelping as he doesn't miss the opportunity to smack your ass as you do, smirking to himself.

When you finally arrive at the gala, you get out of your limo and start flaunting your exquisite dress, proud and flashing. You feel Miguel instantly cling to you, a secure, strong hand on your waist, its touch fervent and possessive. 

He doesn’t fail to notice all the other spiders gawk at you, turning their heads too sharply just to catch a glimpse of his beautiful wife. All the lingering looks, the whispered words of admiration, all for you. The hand on the dip of your waist tenses, both in immeasurable pride and a hint of stinging jealousy. But it felt amazing. 

All the comments, the remarks.

“Can’t believe he pulled such a pretty thing.”

“Imagine coming home at the end of the day to her.”

“Maybe being the leader of Spider-Society has its perks.”

They thought he wouldn’t ever hear them, but his enhanced senses have little to no limits. He feels his pants slightly tighten at the thought that so many other men want you. And yet, it’s his cock that you beg for, late at night. 

And you’re aware of this weakness of his. You know that showing everyone that you’re his gets him hard in no time. And as the brat you are, you can’t help it. Especially not when all eyes are on you two. Not when the paparazzi’s come in.

You run a cursory hand from his chest to his abdomen, arching your back, pretty figure on display for the pictures. Bolder. Your hand finds his cheek, his jaw, your eyes never leaving him. You enjoy feeling like an accessory, something that accentuates him, his masculinity. Something that belongs to him.

No other man has ever made you feel this way.

You gesture to him to lean down, your heels still not enough for you to be able to reach his face without his aid. He does, and you place a tantalising peck on his cheek, light enough so that your bright lipstick doesn’t transfer. 

Feeling him stiffen, unsure of your teasing, you decide to risk it and lean your face down to the crook of his neck. 

Hundreds of photographs flash as you kiss his neck, your soft lips lingering just a second too late, only for a red print to remain plastered on his skin, for everyone to see. 

He turns to you with an expression worth a thousand words. You know that face all too well. 

As soon as you get back in the limo following the after-party, you wave good-bye to all your acquaintances and friends. The driver takes a turn and exits the flash-lit area. 

Turning to look at Miguel, any conversation or small talk on the event you just attended gets smushed into a heated kiss you both longed for, his hands on your hips, pulling you into him on the back seat, your arms thrown over his shoulders.

When he grabs your thigh, you waste no time in lifting your leg over his waist, straddling him without breaking away from the kiss.

His warm hands slide underneath the red satin, grabbing at the globes of your ass greedily. You start grinding on him, your damp panties rubbing onto his erection in his pants.

Your breasts nearly pop out of your dress during the hazy make out session, and he parts from your lips to start kissing down your neck, stealing a glance down at them. Throwing your head back, your body turns into putty in his strong arms. He licks and kisses at the delicate skin of the tops of your tits, slowly and reflexively grinding up into your heat.

You moan his name, your breathing getting heavy.

He knows that having you in risky places only makes you even wetter for him, and he can't get enough.

"Ah! Oh- Miguel!" You whimper as a heavy hand smacks your ass, making you jerk forward into him, your tender body smushed against him so perfectly.

"Here? Are you sur-"

"Here, yes." Hot, shallow breaths fan your neck as he speaks in between kisses and gentle bites. "Can't wait any longer."

Your hands fumble with his belt and he quickly rips your panties at the seam, making a hole over your slit. Panting and rushing, you pull his hard, meaty cock out and align it with your dripping cunt. You feel him slip into you, nice and slow, filling you up with the familiar euphoria you have craved so ardently for the whole night.

He groans as he enters you, wet, warm and tight. Just when you were getting adjusted to his size, the limo goes over a speed bump and his cock thrusts up into you with the turbulence, its bulbous tip kissing your cervix.

You feel him deep in your guts, and as you begin riding him, he starts to buck his hips up into you, making you see stars.

"Que rico", he pants out, whispered, "having a pretty thing like you all over me." He

Keeping the thrusts quick and shallow, so as not to make your shenanigans too obvious, you bounce yourself on his cock; at first for his pleasure alone. Seeing him drowned in ecstasy will eventually being you your own pleasure as well.

All until he brings a hand to your swollen clit, rubbing furiously, throwing you over the edge in mere seconds. You come all over his dick, eyes rolling back, his name falling off you tongue in a strangled moan, sweet music to his ears.

He feels your pussy pulsate oh so deliciously around his cock, and it doesn't take him much longer to also release his load in your velvet walls, painting your insides white, claiming you as his.

As soon as he comes down, catching his breath, he smothers you with another fierce kiss, groaning into your mouth as you stir with his still sensitive cock inside you.

"We should do this again sometime, Mr. O'Hara." You tease, your lips straying away to nibble at his pulse point.

"Oh, we will, bebita."

divider by @cafekitsune as always

a/n: finally wrote this 7 mesozoic eras after it was requested sorry man

[etfrin]

❝coriolanus snow who treats you like a doll❞

tw: toxic, dark, objectification, suggestive | [fem reader]

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow braids your hair every night, it's a routine to him. Doesn't matter how late he is from work or if he has to wake you up to do it, he will do it himself every night.

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow brushes your hair every morning as well, but not only that if he has time he will shower with you. Clean you up with his own hands, rub your body thoroughly, and scrub your scalp with his favorite shampoo

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow who has a very large closet dedicated to you. Everything in there was chosen and bought by him. He selects your outfit every morning and even chooses the make-up you will wear (the ones that would look pretty when you're sobbing with how good he is fucking you)

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow who thinks dolls shouldn't talk after all they're dolls. Dolls should be played with. He only allows sounds from your lips when you're spewing the latest gossip, or asking him about his day. He loves your voice when you're moaning, whimpering, and whining when you're being used as a Fleshligh, otherwise, he doesn't care about your words.

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow rarely lets you ride him, when he does, it's a privilege (read: he's just too tired but won't admit it) and you can only fuck yourself on his cock at the pace he has set. If you go faster or slower, he will make sure to punish his doll that can't fucking obey.

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow who daydreams about fucking you in front of all of Panem. Just so he can brag that he has a good pet, an obedient human doll to play with that no one has. Snow lands on top.

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow doesn't show affection to you in the normal way, but he does show them (or so you believe). He shows you by kissing you on your forehead when you're good, he shows you by reading whatever book you want during bedtime, he shows you by letting you cum, he shows you by calling you his, and by letting you call him Coryo.

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow who gets paranoid that someone is going to try to poison you (even as you're stuck in the mansion) and without telling you starts to dosage your food with poison so that you grow immune. Even if your body goes weak and your mind is hazy from the noxious substance, you have access to the best doctors of Panem and you have Coryo to take care of you.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived @bucksdonkey @xyzstar @ellie-luvsfics @sunny-deary @daughter1of2anita3dearly @eir964 @nowsyhozey @ayaya-aa @serving-targaryen-realness @hansbasement @louweasleymalfoy @lettersandwhiteroses @arzua10 @wotcherpeak @ever8ea @daughter-of-the-stars11 @blippys-blog @iguanagwen @moonlight-by-the-sea @snowlandstop @badbleep88 @hobireasns @floswife @weeeoosworld @ludasgf

[neon-junkie]

How would TBB react to seeing the reader about to leave on a night out dressed up in a super hot outfit?

Gender-neutral reader, but feminine presenting. Words like 'beautiful' and 'pretty' are used!

Hunter - Even with half of his face tattooed, he still manages to blush through the thickness of the ink. - He's truly lost for words. - Hunter has an adorable stutter as he compliments, "wow, you look… nice- I mean, incredible. Good. Beautiful?" - Hunter then facepalms as he scolds himself for picking "nice" as his first compliment. Ugh, you look so much more than nice! - You'll both be giggling as Hunter takes a deep breath, and begins going into detail about how good you look, highlighting the specific parts that really stand out to him. - You're heading out with friends, but Hunter is quietly hinting that he wants to come along. Totally not because he's jealous or anything, but because he hopes to meet your friends, right? The friends that he's met several times before? Yeah! - Tell him that you'll still be looking this good when you come back home later tonight, and he'll get the hint. - However, he may need to leave a fresh mark or two on your neck, just to get the point across that you're taken.

Echo - This poor, poor man is going to turn the deepest shade of red when he finally sees you. - Why, just WHY did you have to wear that specific outfit that he loves so much?! And you're going out without him too?! Oh, what a tease! - Echo is lost for words as he gushes over you. He feels like it's his wedding day - How is he this lucky? How did he land an angel like you? - There's a tear in his eye as you smother him in kisses, reassuring him that you're all his, that you're the lucky one for being with him, that you can't wait to come home and snuggle up with him later. - Echo doesn't ask for much, but he would like to be kept in the loop on your whereabouts. Purely for your own safety! - "And when you reach the next bar, just comm me. Your friends have my comm number too, don't they? If anything goes wrong, and you want picking up-" blahblahblah. - One final smother in reassuring kisses, and you're good to hit the town!

Wrecker - His mouth instantly hangs open, his eyes turn wide, and his facial expression swiftly turns into a grin as he comments, "HOT!!" - You know in cartoons where the character's mouth drops open, and they begin howling and barking? Yeah, that's Wrecker. - Seriously, you look hot, and Wrecker's going to ensure that you know it. - "Look at you! I can't believe I got myself an angel as sweet as you!" - He'll mention how he's sad that he's not tagging along, but he'll assure you that it's important you spend your time with your friends. - Wrecker isn't as clingy as he seems. After all, he'll be right here, waiting for your return. - And when you do return, all your hangover needs will be met. A tall glass of water waiting for you, a midnight snack, breakfast in bed, and a big buff man to cuddle you back to health!

Tech - This will go one of two ways: - Option one: Tech eyes you up and down, and with a firm nod, he comments, "that is suitable attire for your evening. I hope you enjoy yourself." - Option two: Tech's brain short circuits. He can barely muster up a thought, let alone a comment. Radio silence, but his expression says it all. - Either way, Tech is more than impressed with your outfit choice, and how stunning you look. He just… struggles to find the words, like a deer in the headlights. - Give him a few moments, and you'll be met with suitable praise. "How exquisite you look, a truly elegant and radiant creature." - Tech can't pinpoint one specific word to describe how beautiful you look, so instead, he selects the most complex and in-depth ones. He doesn't want to rely on a 'standard compliment.' - A few kisses later, and you're off to meet your friends. All the while, Tech begins pacing around the Marauder like a lost puppy. He needs to keep himself occupied until you return!

Crosshair - He's instantly thirsty for you, smiling cheekily as he eyes you up, gawking at the sight of you. - Crosshair has a way with words, and spews out his praise, all whilst kneading at your waist, his hands trailing down to grab your ass whilst he steals a handful of kisses from you. - And then it dawns on him… - You're going out with your friends tonight, not him… - Jealousy swiftly takes over, and his compliment turn into teasing (yet petty) jabs. Nothing to hurt your feelings, though. - "Any reason why you're wearing this tonight? Do you need more attention? Am I not enough for you?" - Whilst his tone is teasing, there's a desperate need for validation. - Yes, he knows you'd never be stupid and hurt him, but… can you please remind him one more time? - Don't be surprised when you leave, and minutes later, Crosshair sends you a holotext. "Comm me if you need anything, Beautiful."

[triptychgardener]

See transfem Rose to me happens when she's like ten and sneaking into Mom's closet to put on her clothes and makeup and she gets caught and Mom Lalonde (also trans [Rose doesn't know this]) gets extremely excited and immediately like the same day throws an extravagant coming out party for literally just the two of them that Rose OF COURSE takes as a passive-aggressive gesture.

Mom has Rose's entire wardrobe replaced the next day with exclusively pretty-pink princess outfits which Rose immediately defaces and defiles in any way she possibly can. Mom continues to be proud and Rose continues to be utterly bewildered.

Rose was only one of a dozen different possible names she had written down in her (LOCKED!!!) diary but finds that two days later Mom has done her the kindness of selecting that one (we matsh!! :D) and replacing it on all her official documentations, wiping the record of any evidence that Rose ever was a boy in the first place.

And meanwhile Rose is just sitting there emotionally flummoxed, unsure of whether to feel grateful that it went so well, frustrated that it went TOO well (no space for it to be a cool act of rebellion [this urge is then satisfied by becoming goth]), and honestly kind of pissed because she really thought Violetta Ravenwood Dark'ness LaLonde was a really good name (she would later rescind this opinion, and in the even more secret diary she stuffs into a tear in her mattress [It would take Mom a whole extra week to find this one] thanks her mother for the save.)

[eiightysixbaby]

Since we're feeling subby guys tonight: catching best friend!Eddie adjusting himself when he sees you in a cute dress and taking care of him like the good boy he is xoxoxoxo @munson-blurbs

bug I hope this is everything you wanted it to be 🤗

You’re brushing out the wrinkles in your dress with your hands, frowning slightly in the mirror. You don’t think you look bad, but you’re just not sure if it’s the right outfit. Huffing, you swing the bathroom door open, stomping into your best friend’s room to get his opinion. His bare back is to you, and you swallow, getting ahold of yourself before speaking.

“Eddie, what do you think of this dress? I’m just not sure if I love it and I might go back to the other outfit with the skirt-” you ramble, Eddie turning around from where he’s rummaging through his closet.

He stops in his tracks, eyes widening for half of a second as he takes in all of you. His mouth is slightly agape as he stands there, a shirt hanging loosely from his one hand.

“Hello?” you snap your fingers, far too frustrated with the task of selecting an outfit to have patience for his antics. “If you don’t like it you can just tell me, you’re never afraid to be honest any other time,” you rest a hand on your hip now, waiting for him to say anything.

He realizes then that he’s been standing there like an idiot, straightening immediately. “What? No! Sorry, I- uh- you look great,” he says, his voice going higher pitched at the end, and he mentally smacks himself for it.

“Right. That was convincing,” you say sarcastically.

“No nooooo no no, I’m serious,” he says, regaining a bit of composure now. “You look… really good in that.”

You eye him quizzically, looking back down at your body and holding out the fabric at the hem of the dress, deciding. You look back up at him, just barely catching the way he adjusts the awkward bulge that’s formed in his sweatpants.

Your eyes go wide, arms crossing over your chest as you try to fight off a smug little grin.

“W-what?” Eddie asks, scratching the back of his neck, trying desperately to keep his cool. He didn’t think you’d catch him, figured he could rush into the bathroom to change before you clocked his totally obvious boner.

“Are you fucking hard right now?” you ask, your tongue pressing to the inside of your cheek as you chuckle.

“No,” Eddie denies, holding his shirt in front of his crotch. Way to make it discreet, loser.

“You think you can handle it if I wear this dress tonight? Think you can keep your composure?” you tease, throwing caution to the wind in terms of this being your best friend that you’re talking to. It’s about damn time you had an excuse to flirt with him.

“I- I… um,” Eddie’s stammering now, his cheeks growing nearly red with embarrassment.

You walk closer to him, taking the shirt gently from his grip. His dick is straining within the fabric of his pants, and you open your mouth in a gasp when you see it.

“All this just for me?” you purr, pressing a hand to his stomach and trailing down slowly. He swallows, hard.

“Y-you’re so fucking beautiful,” he forces out, blush still evident on his cheeks and now his neck.

“Why don’t you take your pants off for me, pretty boy,” you say, voice dropping an octave as you look up at him.

“What?” Eddie asks, nerves clearly heightened as his hands fidget.

“Did I stutter?” you ask, pouting at him. “Take. These. Off.”

Your hand comes down to pull at the waistband, letting it snap back against his skin. He hisses, his shaky hands coming down to slide his pants down his legs.

“Boxers too,” you add, watching his every movement.

And so the boxers come down too, Eddie’s hands tentatively tugging the fabric down. He’s breathing heavily as his cock springs free, fully exposed to you now. He feels vulnerable, having not expected his best friend to see his dick today. The way your eyes widen when you see it, though, is definitely a confidence boost.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, and he nods emphatically.

Delicate hands come down to his crotch, one of them wrapping around the base of him and the other swiping the pre-cum from his pink, swollen head. He takes a sharp breath in, a strangled whine coming from his throat when you squeeze his shaft.

“Let me take care of you, yeah?” you say, batting your lashes up at him.

“W-we’re gonna be so late to Robin’s party,” he rasps, running a hand through his wild curls.

“She’ll understand,” you murmur, smirking when you cup his balls and he groans. You drop down to your knees and Eddie swears he’s about to ascend to a different universe. His cock stares you right in the face, your fingers squeezing the tip and letting more of that pearly liquid leak out.

“You’re really okay with this?” Eddie asks, tilting your chin up gently so you’re looking at him.

“Eds, I’ve been dying to get my hands on you,” you admit, and he feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. “Now hush and let me take care of you,” you say, pressing a gentle kiss to his tip.

He curses under his breath when your lips wrap around his cock, one of your hands still gripping the base of him. You let your tongue swirl around him, catching the saltiness of his pre-cum. The sounds he’s making are sinful, pitiful, and relentless, grunts and whines and whimpers tumbling out of him from even the tiniest action on your part. Your knees dig into the carpet, mouth taking as much of him as it can, and your hand pumping the rest of him.

You squeeze his balls, rolling the flesh between your fingers, his hips jolting forward into your mouth.

“Sorry - shit, sorry,” he pants, “-that just feels so fucking good, gonna cum if you keep that up,” he says, his voice strained with all of the effort it’s taking him to not fall apart completely.

You look up at him through your lashes, your tongue licking a long stripe up the underside of his shaft, the tip of your nose brushing it. Your hand squeezes his balls once more, making him twitch and curse. He stares down at you, focused on the way the top of your dress pushes your tits together, thinks about how your chest would look decorated with his cum. Your head bobs on his cock quickly, tongue teasing his slit when it can.

“Fuck, baby, baby,” he moans, fingers tangling in your hair. “I’m gonna fucking cum, please let me cum on your chest baby please,” he begs, the sound of it music to your ears.

“So good when you beg for me,” you say, pulling your mouth away and letting your hand pump him to his release.

A few harsh strokes and his cock is twitching, ropes of sticky cum hitting your neck, your chest, even your chin. Eddie’s breathing is staggered, his chest heaving as you work every last drop out of him. The sight of you covered in his cum is just as glorious as he thought it would be, and he’s sure it could make him hard all over again if he stares for too long.

“Better now?” you ask, rising to your feet.

“Fuck yes,” he says, voice breathy. “You’re fucking unreal.”

“If you’re good, maybe we can sneak off into the bathroom later and have round two,” you say softly, letting his arms pull you close to him.

“In that case, I’ll be so fucking good. Whatever you need is yours, baby,” he replies, heavy-lidded eyes still filled with desire.

“Oh, and I got all the confirmation I needed from you. I’m definitely wearing the dress tonight,” you say, winking at him as you walk back into the bathroom to clean yourself off. “Now get dressed, we have to go.”

[latenightreadingpdf]

Brewed Connections - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: After his favourite coffee shop closes unexpectedly, Spencer Reid discovers Y/N's charming coffee shop and becomes a regular customer. Bonding over their shared love for literature, the two develop a close friendship.

The sun filtered through the windows of the quaint little coffee shop, casting a warm glow over the mismatched wooden tables and chairs. Spencer Reid, with his usual mop of messy hair and earnest expression, peered through the window. He had been searching for a new coffee spot since his regular one closed down. This one, with its shelves brimming with old books and the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air, seemed promising.

As the bells above the door chimed, Y/N looked up from her work station, her eyes meeting Spencer’s. Her heart did a tiny flip. "Hi there," she greeted with a radiant smile.

"Uh, h-hi," Spencer stuttered, a shy smile crossing his face as he approached the counter. "Could I get coffee with lots of sugar, please?"

"Of course," she said, her fingers dancing over the coffee machine. "One super sweet coffee coming right up." She couldn’t help but notice his adorable awkwardness, finding it endearing.

With his coffee in hand, Spencer retreated to a cozy corner booth, selecting a book from the nearby shelf. But his attention kept drifting back to Y/N, who was now humming softly to herself as she worked.

Caught in the act of staring, Spencer quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks warming. He tried to focus on his book, but thoughts of the enchanting barista lingered.

Before leaving for work, Spencer bid farewell to the woman behind the counter. "Thank you," he said, his eyes meeting hers once more.

Y/N’s smile widened. "Have a good day!"

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next day, Spencer made a deliberate effort with his appearance, donning his favorite glasses and a smart sweater vest. As the chime of the bell announced his entrance, Y/N’s face lit up in recognition.

"Welcome back!" she greeted cheerfully. "Glad you enjoyed your coffee yesterday."

Spencer was momentarily speechless, struck by how captivating she looked. "Um, thank you," he managed, his gaze taking in her outfit, dark jeans and a Doctor Who tee shirt. "I like your shirt. Are you a Doctor Who fan?"

Y/N’s eyes sparkled. "Yes, I am! Are you?"

A spirited conversation about the show ensued, with Spencer’s coffee prepared and handed to him along with a complimentary chocolate chip muffin.

"I didn’t order this," Spencer remarked, confusion evident in his voice.

"It’s on the house," Y/N said with a wink. "Consider it an incentive to come back."

Blushing, Spencer stammered out his thanks. "I’ll see you tomorrow," he promised before hurrying out.

Their morning encounters became a cherished routine. Y/N had his order memorized and always added a little extra treat, delighting in Spencer’s surprised expressions. They shared their love for literature during Y/N’s breaks, their discussions ranging from classic novels to obscure scientific journals.

Soon enough, they exchanged phone numbers, their connection extending beyond the confines of the coffee shop.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

One day, Spencer sent a text explaining his absence due to a case. Y/N felt a pang of disappointment but understood. Meanwhile his colleagues noticed his unusual attachment to his phone.

"Derek, what's up with Reid? He's been glued to his phone all day," Emily remarked.

"Yeah, it's weird," Derek added, eyeing Spencer suspiciously.

Cornered by his friends, Spencer denied any attachment to the device. However, Derek managed to snatch his phone and discovered the playful exchanges between them.

"Ooooh, pretty boy’s got a girlfriend!" Derek teased, waving the phone in the air.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Spencer protested, cheeks aflame.

Blushing furiously, he tried to reclaim his phone from Derek's grasp. "Give it back, Derek!"

Derek held the phone out of reach, his grin widening. "Not until you admit you've got a thing for this girl."

"I do not have a 'thing' for her," Spencer insisted, though his flushed cheeks and stuttering protest said otherwise.

Penelope, ever the tech wizard, chimed in, "Oh, come on, Pretty Boy! We've all seen the way you light up when you're texting her."

"Yeah," Emily agreed, "It's adorable."

Aaron Hotchner, trying to maintain some semblance of order, intervened, "Enough, Derek. Give him his phone back."

With a dramatic sigh, Derek handed the phone back to Spencer, but not before sending a wink his way. "You should invite her to meet us sometime."

Spencer rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "We'll see," he said, tucking his phone safely into his pocket.

The team exchanged knowing glances, eagerly awaiting the day they would finally meet the mysterious Y/N who had captured Spencer's attention so completely.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The bell above the door chimed, and Y/N glanced up to find Spencer standing there, looking a little sheepish. Without thinking, she rushed around the counter, enveloping him in a warm hug.

"I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were back!" she exclaimed, pulling back to look at him.

"I wanted to surprise you," Spencer admitted, a shy smile gracing his lips.

After serving him his coffee, Y/N declared a break, eager to catch up with the intriguing man who had become such an essential part of her daily routine.

As they sat together, coffee in hand, Spencer and Y/N realized that their connection went beyond shared interests and sweet treats. And as the days turned into weeks, their bond only grows stronger, proving that sometimes, the best relationships start over a cup of coffee.

[starstruckkittensweets]

“Touch of Red” | Kinktober 2024

Formal Wear || Hawks | Keigo Takami

fandom: my hero academia Goodness gracious, formal wear is my weakness. So I thought about my beloved Hawks in it, and I started salivating. I think this is my first official fic centered around Hawks, and not a little drabble or blurb, so please be gentle! I hope I did our pretty bird boy justice. I hope you enjoy, my dears! warnings: public sex, formal wear + glove kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, Keigo's wings go a little awry when he's all worked up, panty stealing, finger sucking, brief aftercare || words: 3.1k

If there’s one positive about this mandatory hero gala tonight, it’s the fact you get to spend hours upon hours admiring the extensive selection of outfits, from pristine pressed suits to gorgeous flowing gowns. Everywhere you look is a sea of color; deep reds, blooming golds, striking silvers, and rich blues.

You’ve always been a sucker for anything fancy, prestigious events be damned. Staring at all the freshly ironed suits, blending from stark white to enchanting black. Practically drooling over each dress, whether they bear lace, ripples, or sparkles. All of it catches your eye, has you sipping at your glass of wine far more often than you would under normal circumstances. You can’t help it; there’s just something about seeing so many people together like this, all dressed in their absolute finest, that sends shivers down your spine and your heart fluttering in your chest.

Keigo knows about your little obsession—fascination, you always have to correct him—and he intends to exploit it in every way he can. Tonight is no exception; he smirks when he catches you ogling at him from the side, glass practically trembling in your grasp, nearly splashing the liquid all over the front of your dress.

And goodness gracious, does he look beautiful tonight.

He’s chosen a simple three-piece suit with a red shirt underneath and stark black gloves, but it’s enough to have you squirming in your assigned spot in the room. Hair swept back, golden eyes sharp as they roam around the room, finally settling on you. Lips curling into a smirk as you grab a fistful of napkins from the buffet table behind you, praying to whatever god may be listening above that you don’t make a fool out of yourself tonight.

Your presence is all but required as an active member of the commission. Not as a hero of course, but working a bland desk job well into the late hours of the night. Being a hero isn’t exactly something you aspired to be, even when you were younger, but working for the commission isn’t all flowers and unicorns, either. But if there’s one positive your job has granted you, it’s being given the chance to forge a friendship with the winged hero Hawks.

Even if he’s been staring at you nonstop for the last five minutes or so.

Just ignore him, he’ll go away eventually. Don’t encourage him.

You turn back to the table, swiping a piece of candy from the tray in the center and popping it in your mouth. Savoring the sweet taste before sipping at your wine—and nearly choking on it when Keigo suddenly appears right next to you.

“Careful there, birdie. Don’t want you ruining that pretty dress. I gotta say, were you planning on matching up with me tonight? Or is it just a coincidence?”

Your face grows warm beneath his teasing expression. No, you were most definitely not thinking about the color of your dress when you chose it for tonight. Definitely not thinking about the beautiful shade of his wings, nor the soft feathers that mirror the lace stitched around the hem. And absolutely not pressing a kiss to the little feather necklace sitting in your nightstand back home before leaving for the gala.

“Coincidence,” you manage to get out through another mouthful of wine. Damn it, anymore of this and you’re going home drunk off your ass. “You look…handsome, Hawks.”

He gives a light scoff at his hero name; the two of you are all too aware of the precautions you have to take in public. No kissing, no holding each other, no personal names when unwanted ears are listening in. You don’t doubt there’s someone with a hearing quirk eavesdropping on all conversations going on within this room right now, waiting to be released to the morning paper tomorrow. And as much as you’ve grown to admire Keigo over the past few years or so, the last thing you want is to give him any unnecessary negative attention from the media.

No telling what they’ll do to you if they find out you’re warming his bed every night. Rip you apart like the savages they are.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says with a wink, and you swear you feel your knees buckle. “Red looks good on you. That one’s gotta be my favorite one I’ve seen you in so far.”

His favorite? He can’t be serious…

You swallow hard and hide your face behind your wine glass. But he’s quick to swipe it out of your grasp with a clump of feathers; curling his gloved fingers around the stem to lift it up to his mouth. Your heart leaps in your throat as you watch him take a small sip, in the same spot your mouth was on.

The exact same spot—is he trying to kill you tonight?! Does he even know what kind of effect he has on you, especially when he’s dressed so…dashingly?!

Apparently he does, by the way he smirks at you over the rim of the glass. Licking his lips afterward, his golden eyes almost glittering beneath the light of the chandeliers above.

“What’s wrong, little birdie? You look nervous.”

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step towards you; and you let out a yelp when your backside knocks into the buffet table. It would be just like you to end up in a fucking splattered cake because of him.

Stupid sexy hero in his stupid sexy suit!

“I’m not,” you choke out, glancing over his shoulder to avoid his eyes. Thankfully no one’s looking in your direction, witnessing the winged hero practically cornering you against the snack table. “I…I don’t…” Your cheeks are on fire, blood singing in your veins as he keeps his eyes fixed on you. “…You just look good tonight, okay?”

“Aww, birdie, you’re too sweet!” He leans in close, nose brushing your own as he rests your wine glass on the table behind you. “I tried my best just for you, after all!”

Of course you did, you feathered fuck.

“How nice… I’m sure you have a hundred admirers in this room alone, with that suit of yours.”

“Nah, not really. Barely notice ‘em! The only one I can see is you.”

Charming. You give him a smile and start to move away, but then he’s reaching for your wrist and holding it gently between his fingers. Leaning in close, making you shiver when his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Boring party so far…wanna step outside for a bit?”

A thousand no’s are on your lips, but you can’t seem to say them out loud. Your mind is spiraling, heart pounding against your ribcage, echoing in your ears.

You can’t. What if someone sees you? What if you’re gone for too long and someone notices? What if someone thinks you’re together? What if this backfires on both of you? What if the commission fires you after tonight for not acting professional enough? For getting too close to their precious golden boy?

He smiles, stretching his hand out to you, and suddenly you can’t remember what you were so nervous about in the first place.

“…Okay.”

His fingers feel so good laced together with your own. His red wings spread out, guarding you from any unwanted attention. He waves to any other guests that glance his way, insisting that he needs some fresh air, maybe even a quick flight to stretch his wings and then he’ll be back. He’s always been easy-going and confident with himself in the spotlight, able to sway the crowd and have them swooning over him, hanging onto every word that falls from his mouth.

All too soon you find yourselves out in the hallway, where a handful of heroes and commission workers are gathered. Luckily none of them pay you any mind as Keigo leads you further down the hall. Far away from any prying eyes.

Suddenly he yanks you to the side, not a soul in sight on either end of the hallway. Tugging you into a random room and slamming the door shut behind you. A warm glow fills the room as he pulls on the little chain of the lamp above your heads. The two of you are panting, face-to-face with each other, tucked away in a fucking supply closet of all places.

His lips find yours almost instantly; you can’t help but moan into his mouth, painted nails digging into his soft blond hair. He wraps his arms around your waist, his wings around your body, peppering soft kisses down the length of your jaw, your neck, and finally at your collarbone. Your back hits the wall behind you; somewhere in the room you can hear a few items clanging onto the floor.

“Door’s locked,” he mumbles against your skin, “just be quiet.”

“I’m not the one who has to be quiet,” you remind him, but your smile fades as he starts to suck on the juncture of your neck. “Y-you’re the louder one, you know…”

His lips are heavenly, teeth nipping at your skin, his fingers toying with the hem of your dress. Instinctively you wrap a leg around his waist, moaning as he begins to grind his hips into yours.

You don’t have much time, locks be damned. Sooner or later, someone will notice your absence and start looking. You can only imagine what tomorrow’s headlines would read upon a reporter discovering the two of you huddled up in a janitor’s closet.

Still, you savor the sight of him in his fancy little suit, before pushing his jacket off his shoulders and burying your face against the collar of his dark red shirt. Leaving a few love bites of your own as he rests his gloved hands along your curves. Holding you in place, biting back a moan every time you hit a sensitive spot.

“Keigo,” you whisper in his ear, “I want you to fuck me.”

He allows himself a little smirk, before ripping off one of his gloves with his teeth. “Say no more, pretty birdie.”

His lips are hot against your own, his fingers sliding down the length of your body, right against the small slit of your dress. Your whines are music to his ears as he pushes your panties to the side.

“Aww, already wet, aren’t you? You weren’t thinking about me out there, were you? Having all kinds of dirty thoughts in front of all those people?”

He talks big, but if the tightness in his pants is anything to go by…

Your breath hitches at the first brush of his fingers against your slick. The collar of his shirt is rumpled, the first few buttons of his vest undone. Your dress is barely clinging to your chest at this point, both sleeves tugged down to expose your collarbone and the tops of your breasts.

“Hm? I’m waiting, birdie.” You whine when Keigo slips a finger in, curling it slightly but refusing to move any more than that. “What were you thinking about out there, that got you all hot and bothered?”

He knows the answer, he always has—but he still needs to hear it from your mouth. You swallow hard and force your eyes open, nearly fainting when you see those gorgeous golden eyes staring right back at you.

“I-I…” You clear your throat, the words slipping from your mind as he adds a second finger. “…Was thinking about you, Keigo…”

“Oh were you, now? I’m flattered.” He gives you a cheeky smile before rewarding you with a gentle thrust of his fingers. Your eyes screwed shut, you begin to writhe against the wall, bucking your hips into his hand. “Details, birdie. I need details—I don’t think you were enamored by my good looks alone.”

“N-no… It was—ah, fuck—y-your outfit…”

He leans in so close you can taste his breath, feel his nose brush against the apple of your cheek. “And what about my outfit, huh?”

“’S just… You look good, Kei—always look so good all dressed up…”

“Yeah I know, you got a thing for me in suits, huh?”

There’s no arguing with him as he begins to move his fingers back and forth. Curling them into you, whispering filthy words in your ear, savoring the way you whine for him to go faster. His pants are unbearably tight; he’d reach down to free himself but that means he’d have to let go of your leg, still planted firmly around his waist.

“Always drooling over me whenever I get one of those modeling jobs… You like it when I get all dressed up, huh? Chose this one just for you, birdie—knew how much you love anything fancy. Bet you like these gloves too, huh?”

He reaches his gloved hand up to brush your face, slipping his middle and ring fingers past your lips with a moan. His cock is straining against his pants as he watches you suck on his fingers, eyes dazed and hair strewn about, a thin line of drool trickling from your mouth.

Fuck it. He needs you right here, right now.

He makes quick work of your panties, nearly tearing them in half as he slides them down your legs and pins you against the wall. Bunching the skirt of your beautiful red dress up and around your waist, giving him a full view of your soaked pussy. He wants nothing more than to take his time and taste you, but any moment the two of you can be found. Gotta make this short and sweet for now; save the rest for later at home.

Your fingers fumble with his belt, leaving it loose in the loopholes of his pants, tugging down the zipper and freeing his aching cock. You swirl your thumb around the leaking tip, smearing the bit of precum that’s gathered at the slit. Leaning in to kiss his jaw, whispering for him to fuck you now.

The two of you whine into each other’s mouths as he slides himself in. Your nails dig into his back, legs wound tight around his hips. His wings flutter slightly, each feather trembling with ecstasy. Matching the beat of his heart, so loud he wonders if you can hear it.

“Keigo,” you grind your hips as best you can, eager for any kind of friction, “please…”

He braces himself against the wall, large wings twitching uncontrollably as he sets a brutal pace. Slamming himself into you as hard as he can, pressing you into the wall with every thrust of his hips. You’re nearly sobbing now, tears leaking from your pretty eyes, lips parted with nonstop chants, moans, pleas of his name.

First name, not hero name. Keigo, not Hawks. It’s always been Keigo with you, hasn’t it?

He smiles into your shoulder, suddenly glad he ever shared that part of himself with you.

“K-Keigo, I—”

“Shh, gotta be quiet, birdie.” He presses his palm to your lips, meeting your teary eyes with a smirk. “Don’t want anyone to find us, do you?”

You shake your head no, but the eager squeeze of your pussy nearly has his eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

“Oh, of course you do,” he almost laughs right then and there, still rutting into you like an animal in heat. “Bet you’d like that, huh? Someone to walk in and see you all spread out for me, so fucking wet and needy…”

He’s close, he can feel it; can never shut up when he gets like this. But your needs come first and foremost, no matter what. So he holds you up with one arm, sliding his gloved hand down to your bare clit. Drawing tight circles around the bud with his fingers, eager to bring you to your peak.

You twist and shudder in his hold, nails and heels digging into him, face scrunched up in pleasure. “Keigo—fuck, ‘m coming—”

“’S okay, pretty birdie—you can come, come for me, please—”

You reach your high first, clamping down like a vice around his cock, trembling in his arms as pure bliss courses through your veins. You’re so fucking beautiful, more than he could possibly put into words—and the sight of you losing yourself on his cock has him coming on the spot, groaning into your neck and pushing you up against the wall.

Neither of you move at first, too preoccupied with holding each other as tightly as you can. But then the sweat and mess below get to him, and he’s sliding out of you with a pitiful moan of your name. His wings are quivering, but he forces his feathers to move to clean up the place a little bit. Rearranging the nearby shelf, picking up anything that might’ve fallen in the midst of your lovemaking. Snatching up your discarded panties and discreetly slipping them into his back pocket.

“I expect those back by the time we get back out there.” But there’s no bite to your words, nothing but a lazy, satisfied smile on your face as he lowers you onto your shaky legs. Letting you lean on his chest before straightening up your dress. “Don’t wanna go back out there wearing nothing at all.”

But he shakes his head, allowing you to slip his jacket back over his shoulders. “Nah, I can grab a fresh pair from your place. It’s not too far away, I don’t mind!”

“Then if that’s the case, just fly me home right now!”

“Birdie, you know I would,” he says almost sadly, brushing a few stray pieces of hair from your face, “but rules are rules. I don’t want either of us to get in trouble.”

“Even more than we already are,” you mumble, and he giggles before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Maybe so. Now wait here, I’ll be back in two minutes flat. Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone, alright?”

You roll your eyes and nod your head, and he kisses your forehead before opening the door as slowly as he can. Glancing at both ends of the hallway before slipping out, sending a sly wink your way.

“See you in a bit, birdie.”

And then he’s off, leaving only a gust of wind in his wake, and maybe one or two stray feathers with you to keep you safe. You watch him go, still dazed and drunk on love, leaning against the wall with heated cheeks. Leaving you to admire just how damn pretty he still looks in that suit of his.

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ alastor + dressing you

character: alastor warnings: 18+ for mature themes (no smut) minors do not interact, fem!reader, pet/master dynamic, toxic relationship (possessiveness; reader is nothing more than a silly little doll for alastor to play dress up with), implied size difference, a hint of blood words: 1.1k

Alastor is a creature of habit, a man of routine. He has his daily rituals, his rigorous schedules, his lists of tasks, all performed to perfection each and every day. 

And Alastor likes to begin his mornings in a very specific way. 

You know the procedure by now inside out, upside down, could recite it backwards, if he so desired you to. 

By the time he wakes you, he’s already laid out your outfit for the day; intimates, dress, socks, accessories, all spread in an immaculate flat lay on his seldom-used bedspread. 

You are always expected to adorn yourself with the garments he’s selected, to pull on each and every piece all on your own, fabrics lovingly caressing your exposed flesh as his gaze slithers after the material, leaving burning smudges on your skin.

But, of course, you can never do it all completely right—not like Master can. 

Because it always ends the same, this little morning sacrament: with Alastor fussing over you—straightening out a bow, smoothing out a wrinkle, tugging up a sock, readjusting a sleeve.

There is always something wrong he has to fix, to make perfect. 

And the finishing touch, the finishing touch is always for Master to add. 

A leather collar, as red as his eyes and adorned with a heart-shaped tag, his name in an elegant scrawl engraved in the platinum. He’s always so tender when he fastens it around your neck, after he has thoroughly approved of your dressing for the day, more tender than you’d ever thought him capable of; more tender than he ever is otherwise. 

It’s all just another way he claims you, degrades you, announces that you are his—his to decorate, his to desecrate, his to do whatever the fuck he wants with you. 

That pretty little silver heart that rests so daintily against your clavicle, that rises and falls and glitters with each of your gentle breaths, will never let you forget that. 

Today, as it is with most days, he has chosen a white colour palette. 

Sitting in his usual armchair with his legs crossed, folded hands resting in his lap, he watches as you undress in front of him, left vulnerable and raw to his gluttonous glare. It stings, his gaze razored and slitting into your skin, prickling as it rakes over your unprotected form, leaving you feeling hypersensitive, overexposed, like he’s stripped away some fundamental layer and left you barer than bare.

Yet to the untrained eye, he would appear only mildly interested, possibly even teetering on indifferent, but you know him better than that.

You are not the untrained eye—not anymore.

You know that the glowing in his gaze is brighter, bolder and more brilliant than normal as he sharply catalogues every action—pretty silk slipped off, dainty lace sliding on. 

You know that his pupils are abnormally large, having gnawed away at his irises in their attempt to consume the scene in front of him—a scene he’s witnessed a hundred times before; a scene he never tires of nonetheless. 

You know that his smile, usually sharp and stretched, is a little bit softer around the edges, a little bit sweeter as it seals hungry teeth behind curled lips.

His chest swells and deflates with calm, even breaths, his unblinking gaze holding yours for a moment—in, out, in, out—and you stand still as a statue, waiting.

Such a good little pet he’s got himself. 

He lets the moment linger for a little, basks in the exquisiteness of your obedience, allows that sweet suffocation of your compliance to grow until it’s nearly unbearable, until you’re struggling to keep stationary under his unrelenting stare, until the weight of it is crushing, compressing your ribs, flattening your lungs as you anticipate his approval.

Finally, he nods, and then, you begin.

First, the intimates; pure snow-white lace encrusted with tiny crystals, dainty material skimming your flesh in a faint caress, clinging to your supple curves as you fasten hooks and adjust waistbands. 

Next, an ivory milkmaid dress, complete with cinched puffy sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, the corset top outlining the natural lines and bends of your torso, skirt flaring slightly at the hips and flowing into loose pleats around your thighs. Little white flowers detail the garment, embroidered in silk across the linen, blooming with each of your graceful inhales. 

Then, a pair of white thigh-high nylons to garnish the outfit, adorned with tiny white polkadots, sleek and sheer as they hug your legs. 

He doesn’t miss the ripple of chills that follow after his eyes as they glide up your body, trailing the curled knuckles hooked in the band of your stockings. Nor does he miss the delicate shiver that dances up your spine, or the tensing of your muscles as you linger in limbo beneath his stare, anticipating his next order.

No, he witnesses it all.

And he smirks, huffing out an airy snort, your frame flinching with the sound.

“Does my gaze make you uncomfortable, dear?”

“No, Sir, of course not,” you respond immediately; well-trained, obedient. 

“No? Then why has your body gone rigid beneath my eyes?” 

“I just—” you begin, faltering a little, a small frown on your face. 

Suddenly, he rises, stalking toward you calmly, both hands clasped behind his back. That infamous collar, held securely in his grasp, jingles with each of his steps, such a delicate sound for something so sinister. 

Stopping an inch or two from your face, your head snaps up, the motion instinctual, eyes wide and subservient—searching for guidance, awaiting your orders like the good little girl you are. 

A palm wreathes around your jaw, points of his claws pressing into your cheeks as he forces your head up further, revelling in the soft pained yelp that hitches in your throat, tangling on a gasp.

“Do you feel like a piece of meat, on display for your owner?”

“Y-Yes, Sir.”

Crimson searches your face, slow and scrutinizing, lids narrowing slightly as his smile sharpens.

“Nothing more than a pretty little prize to be paraded around on my arm, proudly and in public?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Leaning down, he grinds his forehead into your own, inhibiting your gaze from fleeing his, neck bent at an unnatural angle as he looms over you. He stares at you for a moment, scarlet so bright it hurts to look directly into, so brilliant you’re sure it’ll leave sunspots blotting your vision when you finally look away, but you don’t dare to blink. 

Slim fingers flex around your jaw, tightening, and his claws pierce your cheeks—shallow little pricks that’ll be unnoticeable in a few minutes, dots of blood rushing to fill the tiny dents. His tongue laves over each in a single, slow drag, wide and wet as it cleans the wounds and streaks his tastebuds with copper, sealing them with a thick salve of saliva before pulling away. 

“Good,” he finally murmurs, the word a puff of breath wafting across your face, warm and woodsy. “Because you are. And Master likes for his things to look presentable.” 

[grandwretch]

modern au; nonbinary steve

dustin bullies steve into playing their favorite MMO with them. to Dustin's disgust, Steve's favorite part is collecting all the different cosmetic items and making cool fantasy outfits for his avatar. unbeknownst to the party, steve creates an alt account where he can collect the female outfits and wigs, because there's a bigger selection and they're much prettier.

as Steve interacts w people on his new account, he realizes he likes it better-- for one, people pay attention to women in a way he isn't used to. not all of it is good attention, but steve relishes in it. also, he likes that people see him as a woman. he likes that they don't even think about it. quickly he joins a guild and actually starts playing the game in earnest, just so that he has these relationships with people who view and treat him as a woman.

he meets Eddie there. Eddie is charming and flirtatious with everyone, men and women, but it's clear that Steve is his favorite. Very carefully, Steve becomes closer and closer to Eddie-- close enough that Steve is full of guilt.

He feels like he's lying to Eddie about who he is, even though he's told the truth about everything but his gender. Even worse is the realization that he doesn't ever want Eddie to think of him as man-- which is confusing, because steve isn't exactly comfortable with someone he's falling in love with thinking of him as a woman.

Things get even worse when, after Steve drunk texts Eddie after a night out with Robin, they start sexting. Its fun, casual flirtation, nothing too serious, but Strve realizes he likes the idea of sex better as his alternate self. He likes pretending to have tits, he likes imagining what it would be like to have a cunt, he likes talking about wearing lingerie and being Eddie's good girl.

He thinks he can't come clean without losing the best thing he's ever had, so Steve pushes his guilt down and pretends he's not in love.

Of course he gets caught out, eventually. Dustin and Eddie become friends in real life and Eddie isn't an idiot. Steve is mortified and distraught, but once Eddie is sure that this wasn't all a cruel prank, he's quick to assure Steve that nothing has to change-- Knowing that in real life Steve has broad shoulders and a square jaw doesn't make him any more of a "man" than his online avatar makes him a "woman". Not if that's not what Steve wants.

So Steve doesn't have to give anything up. He gets to keep his amazing, supportive boyfriend. He gets to keep his pretty clothes and avatar. He gets to keep experimenting in the bedroom, finding out what makes him happy instead of what he thinks he should be doing.

And he gets more, things Steve never even dreamed of having: He gets to start buying pretty clothes in real life, too, and they hang next to his polos like they belong. He gets to grow out his hair. He gets to slowly find out what he likes, how he wants people to think of him, how he wants to think of himself.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Punk Biker Floyd Leech

In a world that’s in a very distant future where cybernetics and AI have advanced the world beyond normal means

Individual desires are at an all time high

Now the days of meet-cutes and noble rebels were the stuff of ancient history

In a world where everyone’s so focused on themselves there are a select few who try

One of them being you 

Working hard enough to become the mayor of one of these decrepit cities 

You’re working your hardest to change this outlook 

And so far it’s actually going pretty well 

For the first time in awhile they’ve felt such warmth

since you’ve allocated the funds usually meant for the mayor’s paycheck 

But there’s a glaring problem 

The Underbelly–a part of any city that’s filled with the poorest and most desire-driven people

And no one represents that better than Leader of the biker gang of the Underbelly–Floyd

“Hey mini mayor, care to loosen up? Go for a ride?”

“Not this again Floyd! I’m trying to do something.”

“Aww are you the one who’s been putting up these cutesy little posters?”

“Yes, why?”

“I’ve been takin’ them back to my place, cause they look like cute napkins.”

“FLOYD!?”

Floyd Leech in this world is a mystery to most 

Feared by all

As an heir of the Mafia that’s running half the planet Floyd’s signature for his wildness and unpredictable attacks

One day he’s steam plowing through smaller gangs by mowing them down with his custom motor bike

But on another day he’ll be seen standing behind the mayor as you give your address to the people

Like his other actions, it’s seems so random

And it’s not that you nailed him right away that makes him interested

Honestly when his friend Azul asks him why he’s so protective of you, he can’t say one thing in particular

You always look him directly in the eyes when you have something important to say

You do sigh but you’re never annoyed with his antics

When he sneaks into the office knowing your in there still working, you so easily lean into his arms as he carries you to the sofa you have

He doesn’t really know exactly why but he doesn’t care 

Not anymore

All he knows is that for once he’s got a real tangible reason to do what he does

For once when he crushes the skull of a politician it’s because they tried to frame you

For once instead of just doing whatever's fun he thinks about you 

Will you show him that adorable upset face if he burns down this orphanage

Will you hug him again if he get’s the convicts to participate in community service

It’s all he can think about now 

And he’s decided he’d want nothing less

“Ne~Mini Mayor wear this for me.”

“Is this your earring? The one you choose to leave off for the style?”

“Yeah.”

“Hehe wouldn’t you want to keep this just in case you wake up with a need for good outfit?”

“Wear this when you come down to the Underbelly.”

“Oh yeah what’ll it do help you find me?”

“Something like that. Just promise you’ll keep it on you for me.”

“I will Floyd. I will.”

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

1k night celebration 🍾🍾🍾🎈congrats 😏

i don’t know if you write ABO but if you do, please do an Alpha! Agatha Harkness who meets omega! Reader. Agatha see the fear in Reader’s eyes. Reader is terrified. Agatha is horny and thinks that Reader is pretty

Nothing to Fear Dear

Alpha!Agatha Harkness x omega!fem!reader

Summary: You are terrified of Alpha's, but suddenly one comes into your life that is just...different.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, a/b/o content (marking/scent glands/scenting/breeding), shit alpha's wolf whistling and being rude to R

A/N: This is my first time writing ABO! Please if I got anything wrong please tell me how I could improve! I love reading ABO and would love to write more I just don't know if I did it justice.

You didn't trust Alphas. Your history with them wasn't good. Your dad, your cousins, your ex. Telling you what you could and couldn't do. Controlling you at every turn. Now that you were on your own and away from all of them.

You tended to stay home, get things delivered, but there was a farmers market with the nice weather rolling in and you really wanted to go see what it was like. You got yourself dressed for the day; nothing too revealing, nothing that would catch an Alphas attention. You took a little tote with you that you had bought with every intention of using sooner, but you barely left the house.

You step into the bustling farmers market, immediately enveloped by a symphony of sounds and scents. The air is alive with the chatter of vendors and the hum of visitors exploring the stalls. Vibrant displays of fresh produce catch your eye—deep red tomatoes, crisp green lettuces, and baskets overflowing with colorful berries.

As you stroll through the market, the scent of freshly baked bread mingles with the earthy aroma of herbs. You pause at a stand where a farmer enthusiastically offers you a slice of juicy peach, its sweetness bursting in your mouth. Nearby, a musician strums a cheerful tune on a guitar, adding a lively backdrop to your experience.

You find yourself drawn to a table laden with homemade jams and honey, each jar gleaming in the sunlight. The vendor, an elderly woman with a warm smile, shares the story of how her bees produce the honey you now sample on a small wooden spoon. The rich, floral notes of the honey linger on your palate as you continue your journey.

The vibrant energy of the farmers market is both exhilarating and slightly overwhelming. You navigate through the bustling crowd, making sure to keep to the less crowded paths. Despite your efforts to avoid attention, the occasional Alpha scent catches your nose, causing a flicker of anxiety.

You remind yourself to breathe, focusing on the pleasant sensory experiences around you. The sweet taste of the peach, the melody of the musician's guitar, and the warmth of the sun on your skin all help to ground you. You approach a stand with beautifully arranged flowers and pause to admire the vibrant array of colors.

As you continue exploring, you find yourself stopping at a stand featuring an assortment of herbs and spices. The vendor, a middle-aged Beta with a kind demeanor, offers you a sample of a fragrant lavender sachet. You inhale deeply, the soothing scent helping to further calm your nerves.

It’s while you’re at this stand that you feel a presence nearby. Turning slightly, you see her—a striking woman with brown hair and an air of confidence that immediately marks her as an Alpha. She’s examining a selection of fresh herbs, her expression thoughtful and focused. You can’t help but notice her tailored, yet casual outfit, giving off a sense of understated elegance.

Your instinct is to move away, to avoid any possible interaction, but something about her presence is different. She doesn't exude the same domineering aura you've come to associate with Alphas. Instead, there's a calm, almost magnetic quality to her. Before you can make a decision, she glances up and catches your eye, offering you a gentle smile.

“Lovely day for a market, isn’t it?” she says, her voice warm and inviting.

You nod, managing a small smile in return. “It is,” you reply softly.

“I’m Agatha,” she introduces herself, extending a hand. “It’s nice to see new faces around here.”

You hesitate for a moment before shaking her hand. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Do you come here often, Y/N?” she asks, her gaze steady and kind.

“No, not really. This is my first time,” you admit, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Well, you’ve picked a good day for it. The weather is perfect, and the produce is exceptional this time of year,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “If you’re looking for recommendations, I’d be happy to help.”

The offer is tempting, and despite your usual wariness around Alphas, something about Agatha makes you feel at ease. “That would be nice, actually. I’m not really sure where to start.”

Agatha’s smile widens. “Great! How about we start with the fruit stand over there? They have the best strawberries you’ll ever taste.”

As you walk together, Agatha points out her favorite stalls, sharing little anecdotes and tips. Her presence is comforting, and you find yourself relaxing more with each step. The way she interacts with the vendors and other market-goers shows a level of respect and genuine kindness that you haven’t seen in an Alpha before.

By the time you’ve filled your tote with fresh produce and a few delightful treats, you realize that you’ve enjoyed yourself more than you expected. Agatha has made the experience not only bearable but pleasant.

As Agatha shows you around the market, you begin to let your guard down. Her warm, genuine demeanor makes it easier to forget the usual anxiety you feel in the presence of Alphas. However, this fleeting sense of comfort is shattered when a group of Alphas nearby start to take notice of you.

"Hey there, sweetheart!" one of them calls out, his tone laced with a possessive edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

Another Alpha joins in, letting out a piercing wolf whistle that makes your heart race with fear. You freeze, instinctively drawing closer to Agatha. Your eyes meet hers, and you see a flash of something intense and protective in her gaze.

In an instant, Agatha steps closer to you, her presence becoming a shield against the unwanted attention. The scent of lavender intensifies around you, soothing your frayed nerves. Agatha's expression shifts, her previously warm smile replaced with a steely determination.

"Is there a problem here?" she asks, her voice calm but with an underlying firmness that commands respect.

The Alphas, taken aback by her sudden presence, hesitate. One of them scoffs, trying to maintain his bravado. "We were just having a bit of fun," he says, though the uncertainty in his eyes is evident.

Agatha takes another step forward, positioning herself directly between you and the other Alphas. "Well, I suggest you find your fun elsewhere. This Omega is with me." Her tone leaves no room for argument, her Alpha presence now fully asserting itself.

The other Alphas exchange glances, the weight of Agatha's authority pressing down on them. They grumble among themselves before deciding it’s not worth the confrontation. One by one, they back off, their eyes still wary of Agatha.

Once they’re gone, Agatha turns to you, her expression softening immediately. "Are you alright?" she asks gently, concern evident in her voice.

You nod, still a bit shaken but deeply grateful. "Thank you, Agatha. I don’t know what I would have done without you."

She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her touch grounding you. "You don’t have to worry when you’re with me," she says softly. "I won’t let anyone hurt you."

The sincerity in her words touches something deep within you. Despite your past experiences, you feel a growing trust in Agatha. Her actions have shown you that not all Alphas are the same—that there are those who can be kind and protective without being controlling.

As you continue to explore the market together, Agatha remains close by, her presence a comforting anchor. The other vendors and market-goers seem to recognize her protective stance, giving you both a respectful distance.

By the time you leave the market, your tote filled with fresh produce and delightful treats, you realize that today has been more than just a shopping trip. It’s been a step toward healing and perhaps the beginning of a new friendship.

As you part ways, Agatha gives you a warm smile. "I hope to see you again, Y/N. Maybe we can make this a regular thing."

You smile back, the anxiety that usually plagues you feeling more distant than ever. "I’d like that," you reply, and for the first time in a long while, you truly mean it.

-----------------

The weeks following your initial encounter with Agatha have been transformative. Each trip to the market with her has been better than the last. She introduces you to her favorite stalls, the vendors greeting you both warmly, and slowly, you’ve started to feel like you belong. Agatha’s presence has been a comforting constant, her protective nature ensuring you always feel safe.

Today, however, is different. Agatha had invited you out for a date beyond the familiar confines of the market. The thought had initially filled you with trepidation, but her kind eyes and gentle smile had reassured you. She had taken you to a quaint café, where you spent hours talking and laughing, the time slipping by unnoticed. As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, Agatha suggested heading back to her place for a nightcap.

You hesitated but agreed, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. Her home is cozy and inviting, filled with the same warmth and charm that she exudes. As you step inside, you can’t help but feel a surge of affection for the woman who has slowly become so important to you.

Agatha offers you a drink, and you both settle on the comfortable couch in her living room. The conversation flows easily, but there’s an underlying tension—a palpable awareness of the new territory you’re venturing into.

As the evening progresses, Agatha moves closer, her touch gentle yet insistent. When her hand finds yours, the connection sends a jolt through you. You’ve never felt so much fear and love all at once. Her touch is tender, but there’s an intensity in her eyes that makes your heart race.

"Y/N," she whispers, her voice husky with emotion. "I’ve wanted this for so long."

You swallow hard, your own emotions a turbulent mix. "Agatha, I… I’m scared," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She cups your face in her hands, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek. "You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll never hurt you," she promises, her eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nod, trying to focus on the love you feel rather than the fear. "I trust you," you whisper, and the words are a revelation to yourself as much as they are to her.

Her lips find yours, the kiss starting slow and soft, but quickly becoming more passionate. Her hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel her need for you in every touch. Your heart races, but this time it’s from desire rather than fear.

Agatha’s hands roam over your body, exploring with a gentle yet insistent touch. Every caress sends shivers down your spine, the fear slowly melting away under the heat of her affection. She pulls back for a moment, looking into your eyes, her own filled with a mix of love and desire.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You nod, your breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, Agatha. I’m more than okay."

Her smile is radiant, and she kisses you again, this time with a fervor that leaves you breathless. You surrender to the moment, letting yourself be carried away by the wave of emotions. Agatha’s touch is both tender and possessive, her need for you evident in every movement.

She pulls you onto her lap, working you against her throbbing cock that pushes against her pants, making you moan out. It had been years since you had sex with another. Your fear took such a hold you’d taken suppression pills not wanting the attention of Alpha’s when you’d go into heat. You hadn’t been taking them since you met Agatha. She made you feel safe even though the fear sat in your chest like a heavy stone.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Agatha pulls you back to reality and you realize you’re not breathing properly.

“I got lost in thought. I’m sorry.” You tried to make an excuse, but Agatha knew you better she saw the look in your eyes.

“It’s me sweet girl. No ones going to hurt you.” She pulled you close, brushing against you and scenting, a lavender calm over you and you didn’t need much more to start grinding down on her. You wanted, no needed this, needed her and Agatha felt the same way. Trying to get herself out of her pants as fast as she could and you had worn a skirt because Agatha had asked.

She pulled your panties aside, rubbing against you as a moan tumbled out past your lips. Agatha pulled your lips towards her own, whispering against your lips,

“Is this okay?” You nodded frantically, moving your hips just enough for her to slip inside. Suddenly you’re getting pulled down onto her. “Fuck...you feel perfect. My pretty girl. Such a pretty little omega.” All you could do is nod dumbly as she thrusted up into you.

Nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing had even ever come close to how Agatha was making you feel right now as she thrusted up into you and you rolled your hips. She felled you up perfectly like she was made for you.

“A-Agatha...?” You breathed out, making her look at you. “Mark me. Please...wanna be yours...please let me be yours.”

“Only if you’ll be mine pretty girl.” You smiled all big and blissed out on her cock.

“Yes! Please wanna mark you too!” She smiled, leaning in and pulling you further onto her cock as she knotted you, filling you up full and biting into your neck, making you moan out at the double pain and pleasure combo. Once she pulled back you leaned in, marking her. The sound she made for you was perfect as you clenched around her. She was made for you and you were made for her.

As the night progresses, you realize that this is what you’ve been missing. The balance of fear and love, the intensity of her affection, and the safety you feel in her arms. Agatha has shown you that it’s possible to feel safe and loved without being controlled, and for the first time, you truly believe it.

When the night finally ends, you’re wrapped in her embrace, feeling more at peace than you ever have before. Agatha’s presence is a balm to your soul, and you know that with her, you can face whatever the future holds.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[maxsimagination]

𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙚𝙨 - 𝙘.𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙠

summary: caitlin and yn are both rookies for the fever and hit it off immediately

-> ik cameron was second pick but let’s run with it for the story

𖦹 masterlist

“𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙄𝙍𝙎𝙏 𝙋𝙄𝘾𝙆 in the 2024 wnba draft, the indiana fever select caitlin clark.”

“with the second pick in the 2024 wnba draft, the indiana fever select yn yln.”

i clapped harder than ever when i heard caitlin’s name called for first pick. we’d played against each other in college, uconn vs iowa was the rivalry.

immediately after, i almost had a heart attack when they called my name. tears welled in my eyes as i walked up to the stage, had my photo taken with cathy and followed the security to where caitlin was.

she swept me up in a huge hug, squeezing me tightly.

“i knew you would make it. you always were the hardest to play against.”

she teased me as she released me from her grip.

“i didn’t think i’d make it, i wasn’t expecting to hear my name so soon.”

i tried to laugh but only ended up choking on my tears as i wiped them away. caitlin brought her hand up to my face to gently swipe away the remaining drops as she grinned down at me.

“at least we can play together at the fever.”

——

one month later

i walked into the indiana fever gymnasium, almost gawking at how big it was, and how decorated it was with accolades. many of the girls were already there and they all waved me over.

“welcome to the fever, yn. good to have you.”

erica wheeler greeted me, along with caitlin who was already there. she had come up behind me however, and slung her arm over my shoulders with a grin.

it was the first training session we had as a new team, so we started off with the basics.

i worked hard, trying my best not to disappoint anyone but most of all, myself. it took some effort but within a month of the season taking off, i was on the roster for the indiana fever. and just as everyone expected, caitlin was also in the roster.

we formed an easy link-up on the court, always nailing our passes and getting steals from our opponents. we were like the dream team.

it was a game day against the connecticut sun, one of the top teams. we knew it would be a hard game but i was confident we could do it if we tried our hardest.

when we arrived at the stadium before the game, me and cait walking in together as the paparazzi snapped photos of us and our outfits.

warm up started after that, and we were just shooting baskets. i was taking turns at shooting free throws with cait, and while she was lining up to take one i stood back and watched. i let my eyes memorise her face, her eyes, her mouth, her hair. she looked so pretty concentrated on the throw.

while i was letting my mind wander, cait took the shot and landed it perfectly. it was my turn and she snapped me out of my daydream. we continued shooting baskets for a bit then moved on, eventually going back to the locker rooms and gearing up for the game.

they announced the starters for each team, calling my name then caitlin’s, along with aliyah, nalyssa, and kelsey.

the first quarter started and it was game on. i immediately got on the ball, running it up the court to the basket and landing a shot. by half time we were up, 45-30, which was impressive for the fever.

it was just before the end of the game, the score was close and i knew that we had to put some distance between us and the suns. our coach called a break and we all jogged to the bench. caitlin and i found each other instinctively, and when the break was over we went back out there with renewed intensity.

in the five minutes left, i managed to get possession of the ball, run it down the court and pass out to caitlin who scored a three. then i did it again, stealing the ball back off a rebound and getting to caitlin who scored another three.

we worked hard the whole game to keep the score in favour of us. caitlin was basically pulling three-pointers out of her ass with the amount she had landed. when the ref blew the whistle for the end of the game, we all cheered loudly. it wasn’t an important game by any means, but it was a big win for the fever especially against one of the top teams.

i ran to caitlin and she pulled me into a hug.

“you killed that! ceo of three-pointers right here.”

i poke cait as she grins and shakes her head at me.

“nah i couldn’t have done that without your passes, they were fire.”

she nudges me back. neither of us leave each others side until we get back to the locker room. all the girls are talking about the win, and i’m running on an adrenaline high. the girls are all jumping and dancing around, shouting out to whatever music is playing on the speaker in the room. so i join in with cait, grabbing her hands and jumping around. it was an amazing vibe after a great win.

[kezzanza]

ME, YOU & HENNESSY.

Pairing: Jude x Fem ! Reader Tags: Drunk Sex, One Night Stand Word Count: 5.4k Content Warning: Drunk Sex, Smut, 18+ Jude is the perfect guy to make you forget about your cheating ex.

The black dress you wear is revealing. Its silky fabric clings to every curve on your body in a way that's both exciting and unsettling. No part of your body is left to the imagination.

You move through the entryway and feel the weight of curious eyes drifting toward you, drawn in by the boldness of your outfit. It's been a while since you've dressed up like this.

Two weeks ago, you left a year-long relationship. One where you never got to wear what you wanted without your ex complaining. You more than deserved the appreciative eyes on your figure. It felt good to make yourself look pretty and not have your insecure ex in your ear whining about it.

Inside the villa, the energy is vibrant and lively. A mix of music, laughter, and chatter fills the air. The vibrant purple lighting on the walls makes the modern, all-white interior feel electric. You look around the room, the strangers that look back at you remind you that you have no idea who is hosting the party.

This isn't your usual scene—more uptown and expensive than you're used to. It's Lily, your best friend, that showed up at your place tonight with an invitation. She took one look at you sprawled on the couch in your pajamas and forced you to get ready. But after spending this month eating ice cream and watching comfort shows after being broken up with, it didn't take much convincing—you knew you needed to have some fun.

You're wearing the outfit you've been saving for a special occasion. Lily is clear about her intentions: she wants you to have fun and get laid. You couldn't help but agree with her.

She pulls you along as she navigates the crowd in search of the bar. Through the bodies, you catch a glimpse of the backyard. Large windows and open sliding doors blur the boundaries between indoors and out. People spill onto the grass and into the evening air. If there's a pool out there, you'd swear you're in Ibiza rather than Birmingham.

It's obvious as you look around the room that the guests are both well-dressed and well-off. You often wondered how rich people partied. Now you have your answer: just like everyone else, except they're grinding on each other in thousand-dollar outfits.

"Stop thinking so much," Lily says. You hadn't even realized she's looking at you. Too lost in thought for it to register. "What you need is shots," she concludes, flashing a smile at you.

You roll your eyes playfully. No matter the problem, her go-to solution always seems to be alcohol. Lily tells you that you need a drink to forget everything about your ex and let loose. You can barely hear her over the music—loud and heavy with a bass you can feel in your chest. But you know she's right, so you let her pull you to the bar.

There's a bartender expertly mixing drinks. An impressive array of liquor is lined up against the wall behind him. Rich people's parties really are different. Every detail, from the selection of spirits to the polished bar setup, speaks of an attention to detail you haven't quite experienced before. You're not surprised to see names of liquor you can't even pronounce.

Lily positions herself confidently in front of the bartender, half ordering and half flirting to get your drinks. Whenever you're with her, you don't need to speak much, which is fortunate because you're not good at sweet talking. You always had too much bite in your words.

The bartender pours two shots of a clear liquid. Lily hands you yours with a grin. You both clink your glasses together before downing the shots. The potent burn of the alcohol sears a trail down your throat. Despite its likely high price, the sharp taste is undeniable. The second round of shots is just as horrible, making you scrunch up your face as it burns down your throat.

"You're too beautiful to be pulling faces like that," a deep voice says from your left.

You turn, prepared to dismiss whoever's intruding with little patience for nonsense. But there, standing before you, is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He's clad in a crisp white short-sleeve button-up that clings to his broad shoulders and powerful arms. A few buttons are left undone to reveal a sculpted chest beneath. In black jeans that accentuate his long, strong legs, he's a vision of effortless allure.

As you look back at his face, it feels like the world goes silent, leaving just you and him in a private moment. It's embarrassing how attracted you are to him. The irritation you felt at his comment is helplessly replaced by an urge to hear him call you beautiful once more.

His presence is practically magnetic.

Men that make you feel like this are dangerous. You know you shouldn't be so quick to be swayed by him. And just by looking at him, you can tell he's a player, someone stringing along multiple women. You probably wouldn't even have his attention if you weren't dressed as sexy as you are now. It would be a bad idea to get involved with him.

But you've just come out of a rough breakup. One that hit you hard when you realized you had been left because your ex had cheated and chosen his side thing. This stranger seems like he'd make you forget about your ex. That's exactly what you need for the night.

"Jude," he says, offering his name with a knowing smile when it becomes clear that you're curious to know more about him. "But you probably already knew that."

He looks familiar even though you can't quite place his face to a name. Maybe he's a celebrity you've seen on the rare occasions you dip into social media. With his striking looks, he could easily be a famous internet personality. But you never really kept up with who or what was popular, so it's no surprise you don't know him nor his name.

"I'm not one of your fangirls, so no, I didn't know your name," you snap, eyeing him coolly. "Try impressing me with more than just your ego."

He regards you with a hint of disbelief, as if struggling to grasp that someone wouldn't know who he is. His cocky assumption that everyone recognizes him is both amusing and exactly the kind of audacity you need tonight.

"You want me to impress you? That's a first," Jude says with a smirk. "But if I'm making an exception, I need your name—so I know what to sign on the autograph you'll inevitably ask for."

You roll your eyes, but you're undeniably fascinated. "I'll tell you my name when I think you deserve it," you reply eventually, a playful glint in your eye. "But I don't mind dancing with you."

Sweet nothings and surface-level compliments quickly lose their charm for someone with a personality like yours. What you need is someone with a way with words. Someone who can make your pulse race and your core tighten with just a few carefully chosen sentences—Jude seems to be that person.

As you study his face, you're caught between hesitation and intrigue. The attention he's giving you feels different from what you usually get from other guys. It sparks something within you that's impossible to ignore. It doesn't hurt that every time you look at him, you feel a rush of desire.

Jude looks down at you, his gaze flickering with curiosity. It's as if he's trying to piece together the enigma that you are. You revel in this moment—loving the feeling of making him work for a chance with you.

With a flutter of anticipation, you offer your manicured hand. He grasps it confidently and guides you through the crowd. As you watch the muscles of his back flex with each step, you can't help but think this: tonight is going to be unforgettable.

Before you disappear into the sea of bodies, you glance back at Lily, managing to catch her eye as her face lights up with excitement. She mouths the words have fun with an animated enthusiasm that hints at something more. You can't help but wonder if Jude is a celebrity that Lily knows well. Her reaction suggests there's more to his presence than meets the eye.

You watch for a second as a tall, impeccably dressed man approaches Lily. He embodies the refined elegance of someone accustomed to a life of luxury. His groomed beard adds a rugged charm to an otherwise polished appearance. He looks a few years older, which was exactly Lily's type. You already can't wait for the stories you will both share tomorrow.

Turning your head back forward, you notice as the crowd's gaze subtly shifts toward you. 

Their eyes are bright with curiosity and a hint of intrigue as they follow your movement through the throng of bodies. A few onlookers exchange whispers, their heads tilted slightly as they try to piece together the scene unfolding before them. The murmurs and sidelong glances create a ripple of speculation and fascination.

You and Jude become the center of a quiet, yet palpable, spectacle. Despite the curious stares and whispered speculation surrounding you, your attention remains fixed on Jude. The peripheral buzz of the crowd fades into insignificance as you focus on his wide back and broad shoulders.

Jude stops in a pocket of space that isn't as crowded, turning around to face you. His hands find your hips and pull you close. His dark eyes lock onto yours, a flicker of desire lighting up his features. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt under your fingertips. You can feel the muscles shifting beneath your fingers with every movement he makes.

The song playing is slow and sensual, with a sultry melody that wraps you in its embrace. Its rhythm pulses through the room, creating an irresistible urge for bodies to press together and move in sync. The rhythm of the music merges with the pounding of your heart, making it hard to distinguish one from the other.

"You're stunning," Jude compliments with a husky voice as he looks appreciatively down at you.

"How many girls have you said that to tonight?" you reply nonchalantly.

His lips curve into a smirk as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Stop fighting this and dance with me," he says with a seductive whisper.

Without waiting for a response, he begins to move. Guiding your body in sync with his to the rhythm of the music. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder so you press yourself closer to him. Feeling the firmness of his chest against your softer curves.

The strength in his arms as they hold you securely stirs your desire. Each subtle movement, each brush of skin against skin—it heightens the connection between you. There are shivers of excitement coursing through your body. Jude's fingers tighten a fraction around your waist, pulling you even closer still. You can feel the power in his grip and it lights a fire inside you.

"Fuck," he groans in your ear, his voice thick with want.

You wonder why, but then you feel it—his hard length pressing against your thigh. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, making your breath catch in your throat.

"You already want me that badly?" you ask, your voice sharp and teasing.

Despite the challenge in your tone, your body leans into him, clearly contradicting your words. Your hips grind against his in a slow, deliberate rhythm. The heat between you grows palpable—a tangible force that threatens to consume you both. His hands move from your hips to your back, pulling you flush against him.

You could feel every inch of him now. The hefty size of his bulge was the unmistakable evidence of his desire for you. The thought of exploring this further, of letting him lead you upstairs and into bed, becomes increasingly enticing with each passing moment.

"I want you so fucking badly," he whispers in your ear, his voice rough with need.

His hands explore your body, tracing your curves with a bold familiarity. One rests at your waist, while the other lingers possessively on the curve of your ass. His body feels like a furnace pressed against you. But it's not the heat that ignites your desire, it's the electrifying knowledge that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You tiptoe and put your lips beside his ear. "So, what are you going to do about it?" you ask, your voice firm and deliberate, cutting through the music.

"I'm going to take us upstairs to my room," he replies in a low, husky voice, "Then, I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll never forget my name."

Your heart races as his words hang in the air—the promise in them sending a thrill down your spine. The arousal that hits you is almost strong enough to make you fall into his arms right there, but you can't ignore what he says.

"This is your place?" you ask, your voice edged with skepticism. You pull back slightly, eyes narrowing as you assess him critically.

You scan the opulent surroundings—the sleek modern furniture, the expansive room, the high-end decor. You had pegged him as just another party guest. Now, with the realization sinking in that he could be more than that, you briefly question if you're out of your league with someone of his caliber.

He laughs softly, a sound that makes your heart flutter. Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers grip your ass. You lean into his touch as your own hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"You really don't know me." He says, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'm not just any guy attending a party. I'm the host."

As the words sink in, you pause for a moment, letting the revelation register.

"Should I be worried that someone as young as you can afford all this?" you ask, your tone unconvinced. "I'm not going to be kidnapped, am I?"

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about," he says, "But don't be surprised if you see my face in the newspaper tomorrow." He smirks. "The media always makes me the headline when I throw a party."

The moment stretches, and as you look at him, a powerful urge overrules your rational thoughts. You wanted this, wanted him and tonight, that's all that mattered. The attraction you feel is a craving that eclipses all other considerations.

In a split second, you make up your mind, letting desire take the lead.

You lean in, pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss that conveys all your unspoken hunger. As the kiss deepens, Jude's hands roam your body, exploring with a confident touch. His fingers trace your curves. You respond by running your hands over his shoulders. When you finally pull back, your eyes lock onto his with a burning intensity, your gaze filled with a steely determination. The need in your eyes makes it clear that tonight, he is all you want.

"Let's go upstairs," you say, your voice low and purposeful.

Jude's hand is firm around yours as he guides you across the room, effortlessly parting the sea of bodies. Each step up the staircase feels heavy, the murmurs and curious glances of the crowd providing a backdrop to your ascent.

As you reach the upstairs hallway, the atmosphere shifts dramatically. The corridor—bathed in soft, muted light—is a stark contrast to the vibrant purple glow and energy of the party below. The quiet emptiness of the pathway makes it feel like you're separated from the lively festivities, creating a sense of intimacy and romance.

Suddenly, Jude stops and gently presses you against the nearest wall. Under the soft yellow lights, his features become even more striking. The warm glow highlights the strong lines of his jaw and the depth of his eyes, making him look even more attractive.

His dark eyes trace the contours of your face before he leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that's both fierce and tender. Your inhibitions melt away as his hands caress you, lighting a trail of fire wherever they go. You feel a surge of want as his breath grazes your ear.

"I could fuck you right here," he whispers into your ear. His fingers dance along your back, and you realize with a start that his fingers are slowly pulling your zipper down. "Nobody would ever know."

The words are like a match to dry tinder, sparking a fire deep within you. As you consider Jude's idea, a shiver of excitement courses through you. The more you think about it, the clearer it becomes: you're ready to surrender to his every desire.

"You're right," you reply, the sound of your voice thick with lust. "Nobody would know."

You feel the warmth of his fingers against your back. His hand pulls away after a moment, having fully unzipped your dress. The silky cloth remains on your body only through your shoulder straps and the tightness of the fabric.

Without another word, he hoists you up with hands against your ass. He does so with an ease that turns you on intensely as you feel the power in his muscular arms. It's a thrilling sensation, being manhandled by someone so strong and so capable.

He walks with a never-wavering stride, as if you weigh nothing at all. You tighten your grip around his neck, not for support, but out of a deep, insatiable need to keep him close to you.

Jude leads you into a room you assume is his. With one hand holding you up, he flicks on one of the two light switches. Soft, warm light from two side lamps bathes the room in a romantic glow. With that same free hand, he locks the door with a resonant click.

The sudden sound makes your heart skip a beat, highlighting how quiet the room is. The distant bass of the party is almost inaudible now. It's just you and him with the sound of your ragged breaths mingling.

He sets you down onto his plush, black bedspread. The tension is almost unbearable—a delicious cocktail of excitement and passion that leaves you breathless. It feels unreal when you look at his handsome face and realize what the two of you were going to do together.

Jude stands at the end of the bed and looks down at your figure. You sit up on your elbows to watch as his hands—strong and sure—start to unbutton his shirt. One by one, each button reveals more of his chiseled torso to the cool air. He drops the garment to the floor when he finishes, leaving him shirtless.

He climbs onto the bed and then above you, bracketing your body with his arms . "Tell me how badly you want me," he says, his voice barely above a whisper,

"I need you inside me, Jude." The words escape your lips before you can second-guess yourself.

With a swift and decisive motion, Jude pushes you flat onto the bed, following your body down. The mattress sighs beneath the weight of your entangled forms. His lips claim yours in a dominant kiss—the kind that leaves you moaning. Jude's teeth graze your lower lip, demanding a response that you can't help but give. Your hands instinctively grasp at his broad shoulders, feeling his warm skin under your fingers.

You feel like prey caught in the grip of his hungry mouth. But there's an undeniable thrill in the way he handles you, making your heart race with a delicious kind of fear. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing and probing. It's as if he's trying to leave no part of you untouched.

His hand slides gently down your neck then arms, easing the straps of your dress off your shoulders. With unbridled eagerness, he continues to undress you, pulling the tight material down your body. As the fabric falls away, it leaves you in just your lacy black lingerie, leaving you exposed to his dark gaze.

You feel the rush of cool air against your body as he drops your dress onto the floor. He climbs off the bed and walks to his nightstand as you lie on your back, sprawled against the bed. The sound of the drawer opening echoes softly in the quiet room, punctuating the heavy silence. He pulls out a shimmering packet that makes you feel heated when you recognize its contents.

This was really happening, you think with a rush of desire.

As Jude returns to the bed, the tension in the air is palpable. He climbs back on the bed, kneeling over your thighs. When he places the condom into your hand, you wonder if your heart can escape your chest from beating too hard.

"Put it on," Jude commands, his tone demanding and leaving no room for hesitation.

With hands that slightly tremble, you unbutton Jude's tight-fitting jeans, revealing the mouthwatering bulge that lies beneath his black boxer briefs. You trace the outline of his arousal with your fingertips as he groans. The fabric clings to him like a second skin, allowing you to feel the heat emanating from his body.

When you finally pull the waistband down, his huge length springs free, making your mouth water with desire. His cock is thick and veiny—standing proudly at attention as if eager to be released from its confines.

You take a moment to admire the sheer size of him, tracing the path from his tip to the groomed curly hair at the base. The head glistens with a bead of pre-cum, begging for your touch.

You put the condom wrapper on your teeth, tearing the foil and holding the condom in your hand. Gently, you grasp his shaft, the soft skin sliding under your hand as you stroke him from base to tip. He lets out a low groan, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a hunger that mirrors your own.

Carefully, you unroll the rubber over his erection, watching as it stretches to accommodate his size. The condom snaps into place with a final caress.

Jude's eyes darken with desire as he took in the sight of you. One of his hands trace the delicate lace of your black lingerie. Your breath hitches as Jude reaches behind your back to unclasp your bra with ease.

The cool air of the room brushes against your exposed flesh as he pulls the garment off you. His gentle hands cup your breasts as his thumbs graze the sensitive peaks, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

He settles over you with a single arm supporting him. Leaning in, he captures your mouth in a deep kiss. With warm hands, he fondles one of your breasts, his touch growing more insistent with each passing moment. You moan into his mouth, the sensation of his thumbs circling your nipples almost too much to bear.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with awe. It's as if he couldn't believe his luck in having you here, willing and eager for his touch.

Jude's hand leaves your chest to continue their journey down your body. They trace the curve of your hips before teasing your upper thigh. He lingers there, caressing the sensitive flesh. He smirks when you part your thighs slightly, giving him more space, and he slides a hand between your legs.

You gasp when he touches your damp, wet core through your panties. Then, with a firm grip, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, exposing your most intimate secret.

"So wet for me," he whispers, his voice thick with lust as he tosses the scrap of fabric aside.

You fluster at his words, but the embarrassment quickly disappears as he explores the soft folds of your pussy. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he spreads your lips, revealing the swollen bud of your clit. His thumb circles it lightly, sending waves of pleasure shooting through your body.

He repositions your legs, pressing your knees into your chest. Then, with a suddenness that takes your breath away, he slides two fingers inside you, moving inside you.

As if he's known your body for years, he finds your g-spot. You can't help but let out a loud moan as his fingers curl in that magical way that makes your eyes flutter shut. Your hips tremble, seeking more of his touch, begging for the pleasure that you know he can give you. Instead, he only slides his fingers out of you.

But you knew what was coming next.

Jude's breath brushes against your face as he leans in closer. "Look at me," he says softly.

His eyes search yours when they open, looking for any sign of hesitation. All he finds is a reflection of the desire that mirrored his own. The promise of what was to come ignited a flame that neither of you could resist.

"Jude," you whisper, your voice weak with desire. "I need you."

"What do you need?" he asks, looking down at you with unbridled lust, his voice a seductive promise.

You hesitate for a moment, caught between fear and passion. But then his hand moved to your core, his thumb brushing against the swell of your clit, and all thoughts fled. There was no turning back now.

"You," you moan, your voice barely a whisper. "Everything you can give to me."

"Then let me show you," he says, his voice a command.

Jude aligns his length with your warm, wet entrance. The thick head of his cock presses against it. The initial resistance sends a jolt of sensation through your body, making you gasp. You feel a twinge of apprehension at his size. His gaze locks onto yours, reassuring and filled with passion.

His warm hands caress the back of your knees, urging you to relax as he begins to ease himself inside you. The discomfort is present, but the wetness of your desire provides a slippery path for his invasion.

With a soft moan, you yield to the pressure, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate his impressive girth. The pain is sharp but fleeting. The tension slowly morphs into a delicious ache that sends waves of pleasure rippling through your core.

Jude's eyes shutter as he enters you fully. He feels the velvety warmth of your body enveloping him, groaning at the sensation of being sheathed so completely. The way you moaned, your walls quivering around him—it only served to heighten his desire.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers a string of sweet nothings, promising to take you to heights of pleasure you've never known.

With the utmost care, he begins to rock his hips, his movements slow, allowing you to adjust to his size. Each gentle thrust sends sparks of sensation through your body. You respond with soft, breathy moans, but you can't deny you wanted more.

You weren't some delicate virgin—you could take more than this.

You wrap your legs tightly around Jude's waist, urging him to pick up the pace. His eyes, dark with desire, stare into yours as he reads the unspoken challenge in your gaze. You dig your nails into his back.

"Faster," you breath out, your voice a siren's call.

His rhythm quickens, the force of his thrusts increasing as he claims you fully. Hard and rough and fast—each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You bite your bottom lip to hold back a moan, but it escapes anyway, a sweet sound that spurs him on.

Jude leans down and presses his lips to your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. You gasp, your hands finding his hair, gripping it tightly as pleasure washes over you. Every nerve ending in your body was alive, hypersensitive to his touch, his taste, his very presence.

Jude's deep, gravelly voice whispers in your ear, "You feel so good, baby. So tight around me. All mine."

His words are a declaration of ownership that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel his dominance in every inch of his body pressing into yours, in every pulse of his hips that drives you closer to the edge. His grip on your waist tightens. Fingers digging into your flesh as he leaves you no room to escape the overwhelming sensations he's creating.

Your moan helplessly as he leaves a mark on your neck, the sting of pain melding with pleasure as he says, "Take all of me."

The command in his voice is absolute, and you can't help but submit to him completely, your body arching into his touch, eager for more of this delicious torment. You cling to him as your body responds to his every touch.

You arch your back as he continues pounding into you. Jude's rhythm becomes more demanding. His hips piston against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless.

"You're going to come for me," he says, his voice a dark promise that sends heat pooling in your core.

Your nails drag down his back as you try to hold on, to anchor yourself in the maelstrom of sensation he's creating. Each thrust hits that perfect spot, making your thighs tremble and your eyes flutter shut.

His pace is relentless, pushing you closer and closer. With every movement, you feel yourself losing a little more control. The tension coils tighter, a delicious ache that's almost unbearable. You whimper. Your body begging for the release that you know he's going to give you.

"Jude," you plead against his lips.

And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he whispers, "Come for me."

Like shattering into a million pieces, your orgasm rips into you, responding to the authority in his voice. You cry out. Your nails dig into his back, leaving half-moons in his skin as you try to hold onto him, to hold onto this moment of pure ecstasy. Jude's eyes flash with triumph as he feels your body convulse around him, your orgasm clenching him tightly.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his own release approaching.

His hips continue to move, each thrust now slower and more deliberate. He draws out the last remnants of your climax until you're limp and boneless under him. He kisses you deeply, his tongue claiming your mouth as surely as his body claims your body, leaving no doubt in your mind who you belong to.

Jude's powerful hips drive into you one last time. With a groan, he stills, his entire body tensing as he follows you over the edge. The rush of his climax fills the condom. He holds you tightly, his breathing harsh and uneven, as he rides out his own wave of pleasure.

He collapses beside you, his breathing ragged, his body slick with sweat. You lie there, your heart still racing, your body tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure. The room is silent except for the sound of your breathing. You turn to look at him, basking in the afterglow of your passion. His eyes lock onto yours with a fierce possession.

Jude's hand reaches out, brushing a stray hair from your face. You lean into his touch, craving the contact. You close your eyes, savoring the feel of his touch. When you open them again, his face is inches away from yours.

He gently kisses your forehead before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He stands up with the grace of a man who's done this a hundred times before and walks into the bathroom.

You lie there, catching your breath, and waiting for him to come back.

His movements are careful and precise as he wipes away the evidence of your shared passion, tenderly cleaning you up with a soft cloth. His gaze never leaves yours, and you can't help but feel butterflies at the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

Once you're clean, he tucks you into bed, his eyes dark with a possessiveness that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You're not going anywhere," he murmurs, his voice low and gruff with emotion. "Not out of my sight."

With that, he settles back into the bed, pulling you into his embrace, your bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces that have finally found their match. And as you lay there, safe in his arms, you know that, for now at least, you have no intention of going anywhere.

[dylsluvrs]

hi love! can i request a theo x reader something like ‘the moment i knew’ by taylor swift! pretty please with a cherry on top!

hi sweetpea! i love this request, thankyou for asking. i hope i can do it justice! i took a very different turn than i planned to, but i still hope you like it🥰

THE MOMENT I KNEW // THEODORE NOTT X FEM!READER

“i say hopelessly, ‘he said he’d be here.’”

playlist: the moment i knew - taylor swift

summary: in which reader loves her birthday, and theo makes empty promises.

warnings: bad language, angst, hurt/comfort, out of character slytherin group, established relationship.

your birthday had always been your favourite day of the year. you figured it was better than christmas. you loved the season it was in, how pretty the date looked on paper, and you loved the way theo always paid close attention to exactly what you wanted. you weren’t fussy by any means, just particular. you liked a select few people, but your birthday party was always a big bash, the whole of slytherin was always invited. theo made sure you were the centre of attention for everyone.

until he didn’t.

you lay on your bed, anxiously picking at the new colour on your nails, eyes darting back and forth following pansy’s figure. you were already an hour late for your own party, still deciding what to wear. you’d already picked an outfit, but pansy decided it simply wasn’t good enough. it was your seventeenth, you could finally use magic outside of school. this one needed to be special.

“i found it! this one is perfect.” she pulled out a simple yet elegant party dress, holding it up to your body as you lay on the bed, arms by your sides. “right. up you get, put the dress on, and we’re off.” you sighed in relief, quickly slipping on the dress, leaving your legs bare and tugging on a pair of heels she’d sprung from nowhere. “i love it. and so will theo. i bet he’s wondering where you are, you’re never late for your party.”

you hummed in response, touching up the red lipstick you adorned and linking your arm in pansy’s. you grinned as cheers erupted from the common room, the boys running up to you with smiles on their faces. “happy birthday, love.” enzo placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, clearly having taken advantage of your absence for an hour. mattheo offered a hand, guiding you down the rest of the steps while draco fawned over pansy. “you look gorgeous. don’t tell theo i said that. he might curse me.” blaise’s eyes were wide and you let out a chuckle, eyes darting around the room.

“where is he?” your brows were furrowed, scanning the room in search of your boyfriend. “he’s not here yet…” you frowned, before snapping yourself out of it, bringing a smile to your lips. you were the birthday girl, after all. and appearances were everything. “i’m sure he’ll turn up, sweetheart.” mattheo sent a sympathetic smile in your direction, his eyes already hazy. you nodded, grabbing the drink out of his hand and tipping it down your throat with a wince.

you danced to the music for what seemed like hours, allowing yourself to be passed between the boys as a dance partner, and letting them fuel you up with more alcohol. this was a special birthday, and they’d be damned if you didn’t have a good time. you were constantly bombarded with questions on theo’s whereabouts, and it took everything in you not to cry.

he said he’d be here.

before long, you were staged in the middle of the room, pansy’s dainty hands clapped over your eyes. you heard the soft start of a strained happy birthday song, before pansy peeled her hands away, allowing you to look at the cake that blaise held tightly in his hands.

theo still wasn’t there.

it had gotten late in the night, and students began to leave, giving small goodbyes and stumbling their way to their dorms, until it was just your friends left. “thank you for a truly wonderful birthday, guys. i don’t know what i’d do without you.” they could all see the tears forming in your eyes, sympathetic smiles bombarding your vision. “i think i just need to be alone for a moment.” you excused yourself, bounding up the stairs before the tears could fall.

you fell to your bed, broken sobs escaping your lips. you heard the shuffles of many pairs of feet, listening as they stopped outside your door. hushed whispers that weren’t so hushed. “do you think we should go in?” you heard a faint slap, and a small cry. “no, you toad! he’s spoiled her favourite day. he’ll be lucky i don’t fucking curse him.”

speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

theo walked up the stairs, bleary eyed and heavy, coming to a stop as he saw the huddle of his friends outside your dorm. “what the fuck are you playing at?” as much as mattheo wanted to shout, he kept his voice level, eyes menacing as he glared at the brunette boy. “what?” it was only then that theo took notice of everyone’s appearance. party clothes. “fuck!” he ran his hands through his hair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“i fucking forgot. cara mia? i’m sorry. can you let me in?” blaise and mattheo stood firmly at the door, arms crossed over their chests. this wasn’t intimidating to theo, but pansy’s glare was. “you’re a fucking arsehole, theodore. the one day a year she asks for.” she threw her hands up, storming off with draco in tow.

“let me talk to her.” the boy tried to move towards the door, being pushed back by blaise’s hand on his chest. “let her calm down, mate. she’s heartbroken.” theo sighed in frustration, hand coming forward to knock on the door. “amore, please let me in. i can explain.”

you shuffled to the door, opening it a small amount. you stood there in your pyjamas, makeup smeared across your tear stained cheeks. “it’s okay, matty. let him in.” you placed a soft hand on mattheo’s shoulder, and he smiled sympathetically down at you. he huffed at theo, but nonetheless stepped aside to allow him in the room.

“we’ll stay out here in case you need us, yeah?” if you couldn’t count on your boyfriend, at least you knew you could count on his friends. you closed the door behind you and allowed theo to take in your appearance. your cheeks were covered in tears and mascara, red lipstick smudged across your lips and your hair dishevelled.

“i’m sorry, tesoro. i was with my father, and i completely forgot what today was. it’s been a rough week.” you scoffed, shoving past him to sit on your bed, facing away from him. “it’s not good enough, theo. you said you’d be here. you lied. i spent three fucking hours getting ready, and i had no one there to impress.”

theo ran his hands through his hair again, another frustrated huff leaving his chapped lips. “was it a good party?” your eyes were fixed on him, narrowed. if looks could kill, theo would be dead before he hit the ground. “no thanks to you. your friends had to keep me distracted so i couldn’t think about how my own boyfriend didn’t show up!”

“i’m sorry, piccola. my father-” you tensed up at the mention of the man. you knew how theo loathed his father. maybe even more than you loathed your own. there was a special place in azkaban reserved for him. “i need to show you something. i promise, this is not an excuse for missing your birthday. but please, i’m begging you, amore, don’t be mad.” your heart was pounding in your chest, palms becoming sweaty.

he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, coming closer to you. he’d invaded your space, the smell of his aftershave surrounding you. you gasped as he turned his arm, watching the way the snake danced across his skin. “teddy…” tears threatened to fall again. the guilt was beginning to creep in. you knew theo wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything short of his own death, but you had been blinded by sadness.

“no, no, tesoro, don’t cry. va bene. tutto andrà bene.” you shook your head, hands grasping at his shirt. you knew mattheo had the dark mark, he was practically given it at birth, but you’d never expected theo’s father to be so evil. “you’re a deatheater, teddy. you-you’re going to have to do horrendous things.”

you knew all about the inner workings of the dark lord’s army, your father had been apart of it for years, and mattheo had been in your dorm crying into your shoulder about the things he’d witnessed. “baby, nothing will happen. we’ll be alright. i’ve got mattheo, okay? we will take care of each other.”

“how will i take care of you now?” you had begun pacing, theo’s hands coming out to grasp your waist, pulling you into his chest with a soothing hand on the back of your head. “i’m supposed to take care of you, cara mia. you are my life.”

“i’ll get one too. you cant face this alone, teddy. we said we’d be with each other through everything. this is everything.” you were mumbling into his chest but he understood every word. he stood back, hands coming up to cup your jaw, eyes poring into your own.

“no. look at me. you are not doing this.” you pushed his hands away, moving yours to grab his jaw now. “yes i am. all i have to do is ask, theo. you know my father’s itching to have me join the dark army. i said i was in this for better or for worse.” theodore knew better than to argue with you. even if you did agree to listen to him, you were cunning enough to take matters into your own hands. either way, your skin would be tainted. either by the dark lord’s hands, or his own. he was fearful. you were the light at the end of the tunnel, but you would always choose to follow him into the darkness.

“forever and always, cara mia.”

“forever and always, teddy.”