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flickering-chandelier · 8 months ago

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You Matter to Me

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Summary: Reader is the mom friend, and she’s very good at it. While she is always taking care of everyone else, Cassian decides to be the one to take care of her.

Based on this request! 🩷

Word Count: 2.6k

Cassian couldn’t help but laugh as you weaved your way through the dining room at the river house with Nyx on your hip, helping set up everything on the table while Rhysand and Feyre were finishing a meeting with Azriel and Amren in their study.

“Oh, the wine!” you said suddenly.

“Do you want me to get it?” Cassian asked.

As he knew you would, you answered cheerfully, “Nope, I’ve got it.”

“At least let me hold the kid. I don’t want you falling down the stairs,” he said, reaching for Nyx and taking him from your arms before you could protest.

You smiled at him before disappearing to the wine cellar.

He was endlessly impressed by your incessant energy, never sitting down until everyone else was settled first, always the one to jump up and grab something if somebody needed it. Since you had come around, it felt like everything was always in order.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too much. If you were always taking care of everyone else, who would take care of you?

His attention was pulled when you glided back into the room, placing wine bottles on either side of the table, before the room filled with people, the rest of the inner circle spilling out of Rhysand’s study.

Feyre smiled at Cassian, her arms outstretched to take Nyx. “I’m surprised she let you take him.”

“Practically had to wrestle him from her hands,” he teased, smiling at you as you sidled up next to Feyre.

“He’s being dramatic,” you said.

“Somehow, I don’t think he is,” Feyre smiled at you. “You don’t have to take care of us all the time, you know.”

You shrugged, your eyes shining as you smiled down at Nyx. “I don’t know how to act any other way.”

Maybe we should help change that, Cassian thought.

Cassian’s eyes were on you all throughout dinner, as you laughed with Feyre, bouncing Nyx on your lap so she could eat. He hadn’t noticed before just how many things you did for everyone else. Feyre’s glass was empty, and likely before she even noticed herself, you were smiling at her, pouring more wine. Nyx knocked Azriel’s spoon off the table and in a heartbeat, you were handing him the clean one that you hadn’t used. Cassian himself unsurprisingly required another napkin and without looking up, you were reaching to pick one up and hand it to him across the table.

It seemed effortless, like second nature, but he knew it couldn’t have been. It must be exhausting to think about everyone else.

As dinner came to a close, you rose from your chair, collecting plates and dirty napkins. Feyre stood up to help, and Cassian found himself doing the same. Azriel looked at him with a raised brow, and Cassian just shrugged, snatching up Az’s discarded napkin and Nyx’s floor spoon.

He followed you into the kitchen, where you already had the sink full of water and were soaking the plates. Feyre had gone back out to collect more from the table.

You looked surprised as you noticed him. “Do you need something?” You asked.

Cassian tried not to be offended. “No. You think I would only come talk to you if I needed something?”

He tossed the spoon into the sink behind you and threw the fistfull of napkins on the counter to be washed before turning back to you, leaning against the counter where you were, his arm nearly touching yours. “I want to help,” he said quietly. “Put me to work.”

Shrugging, you said, “No, I just… Well, what are you doing?”

You waved your hand dismissively and turned away from him, going back to the sink. “You don’t have to do that.”

“So?”

Cassian moved around you, cutting off your path. You looked up at him exasperated, and he couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. “Neither do you! You don’t even live here.”

“You know who does live here?” Cassian asked, moving in front of you again as you tried to side step around him. “The High Lord and High Lady. You do know they have servants, too right?”

“Servants deserve a break,” you said, finally looking up into his eyes.

“So do you,” he murmured. Without thinking, he reached forward and brushed a piece of hair that had fallen on your forehead behind your ear.

He heard your breath catch and warmth spread through him.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Cassian smirked again. “See? You know I’m right. Put me to work.”

You blinked, then rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, you said, “Fine. Can you grab the rest of the napkins from the table?”

He gladly did as you asked.

---

From that day, Cassian made it his mission to be the one looking after you.

Not that he would let you know that, of course. He tried to be stealthy about it, so you wouldn’t shut down the whole operation.

Most of the normal group was outside at the river house, enjoying the warm summer day. Cassian sidled up next to you as you were talking to Feyre and handed you a glass of lemonade.

“Oh!” you said, surprised, but clearly pleased. “Thank you.”

It looked like you had needed it too, because not long after, your glass was empty. Cassian broke off the conversation that he was having with Azriel and wandered over to you casually, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Having a good day?” He asked, pulling the glass from your hand as you smiled up at him.

“I am.”

“Glad to hear it,” he beamed, before heading back into the house and filling the glass up again.

When he returned with it, you raised your eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Cassian furrowed his brow as he passed you the lemonade. “What do you mean?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, like you were studying him, but you brushed it off. “Nevermind. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he smiled. “Really.”

---

Cassian was acting weird.

Feyre had been your best friend for years, and you were pretty sure Cassian had talked to you more in the last few weeks than in all of the previous years combined.

You could feel his eyes on you often, and he was popping up next to you seemingly constantly, refilling your drink or handing you a snack from the kitchen. He even seemed to know which snacks and drinks were your favorites, though you weren’t sure how he would have figured that out.

It was sweet, you supposed. If you really let yourself stop to think about it, you were willing to admit that it was nice to be taken care of a little for once. You got so busy looking after everybody else, you truly couldn’t remember the last time somebody had cared to pay attention to what you needed.

But, at the same time, you felt a little bad, and you couldn’t understand why on earth Cassian suddenly cared so much.

Cassian himself interrupted your thoughts, coming up behind you and wrapping a shawl around your shoulders. You realized that you were holding your arms together over your stomach, shielding yourself from the evening wind.

You raised an eyebrow at him in question.

“What?” he smiled, his hands lingering for another moment on your shoulders. “You were shivering.”

“Was I, really?” You asked, surprised. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He leveled you with a remarkably serious expression, considering how easy going he always was. The two of you were back towards the river house, away from the rest of the group who were gathered in clumps around the rest of the yard, laughing and drinking.

“How do you always notice what other people need, but you give no thought to yourself?” He asked, his eyes softening as he looked down at you.

You grappled for an answer, feeling slightly paralyzed under his gaze. “I don’t know,” you finally said honestly.

Cassian offered you a sad smile, taking your hand in his and squeezing it briefly. “You hungry?”

You laughed. “A little, I guess?”

He smirked, nodding his head to the house, then pulling you forward by the hand.

The two of you reached the massive kitchen. You started rifling through the pantry and Cassian placed his hands on your hips, pulling you back against his chest.

You embarrassingly let out a squeak of surprise. “What are you doing?” You asked, trying to twist around to look at him, but he pushed you toward the counter, spun you around and lifted you to sit on it.

He grinned, his hands still on your hips as you gaped at him. His eyes were locked on yours, and you felt your heart racing, but you were trying desperately to not let him see it.

“Stay,” he commanded teasingly as he finally stepped away, but you knew he meant it.

As he rummaged through the kitchen, you tried to steady your breathing. You had to admit, you had been thinking about Cassian a lot more often lately. And that… what he just did… that would not help matters.

By the time Cassian was back towering over you, you felt more normal. He presented your favorite snack with a smile.

You took it, thanking him. He hopped up on the counter next to you, his shoulder brushing yours.

After eating in silence for a few moments, you turned to him. “How did you know this is my favorite?”

He shrugged, turning his smile on you. You tried to ignore the way that your heart melted. “I pay attention.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Cassian seemed to contemplate for a moment, his easy smile gone. He finally looked back to you, his eyes smoldering, and said, “You matter to me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as he gazed at you, your cheeks warming, and you unfortunately could not think of a single thing to say.

Suddenly, footsteps were coming toward you and the trance was broken as you looked toward the door to find Feyre striding into the kitchen.

She looked surprised to see the two of you sitting together, and you knew her well enough to understand what her answering smile meant.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, hopped off the counter, quickly thanked Cassian, and retreated back outside.

---

Your mind had been reeling with thoughts of Cassian for days. Something in the air felt different between you in that kitchen, but you weren’t sure exactly what it meant.

A loud knock on your door roused you from your ever spiraling thoughts.

Cassian was grinning as you opened your apartment door, holding a bag of food out to you. “I hope you didn’t have lunch plans.”

You gaped at him. “You’re feeding me in my own house now?”

“I thought I’d mix things up a little bit,” he said, nodding his head inside. “So, are you going to let me in?”

After studying him for another moment, you stepped aside. He walked right past you, going to the kitchen table and spreading the food over its surface.

Giving in, you went to your cabinet to get cups and plates, but Cassian stilled you with his hands on your hips once again. “No, you don’t.”

“Cassian,” you huffed as he pulled you back toward the table. “You don’t even know where anything is!”

He pushed your shoulders down lightly until you were sitting in a chair. “You can point, can’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. “This feels excessive.”

“I disagree,” he winked at you before going to the cabinet that you were just at, pulling down a few plates, then placing them on the table.

“Cups?” he asked.

Sighing, you pointed to another cabinet and he went to it, jovially pulling glasses out and filling them with water.

Within a few minutes, Cassian was piling food onto your plate, watching you intently as he ate from his own.

“What is going on with you?” You asked.

Casually, he said, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean! Why have you been hovering around, feeding me, bringing me jackets?”

The side of his mouth turned up into a lopsided grin. “Do you want me to stop?”

The question was not what you were expecting. You weren’t sure that you were willing to admit to him how much he had been affecting you yet. You sat back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Answer my question.”

His smile only grew. “Answer mine.”

You raised an eyebrow, determined. “I asked first.”

Cassian laughed. “Okay, fine.”

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table in front of him, his eyes fixed on you. “You really want to know the truth?”

You nodded, forcing yourself to keep your eyes locked on his.

His teasing demeanor dropped, his expression suddenly serious. “I was watching you at dinner with everyone a few weeks ago. And you were running around, taking care of everybody else the entire night. It was like you didn’t even think about it. It’s amazing how you can do that, and I know that everyone around you is thankful for it. But…” he hesitated, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “But, it also made me sad. I started wondering if anybody ever took care of you. And I figured I could be that person.”

You had to take a deep breath, your mind reeling.

When you were silent for a few more moments, Cassian continued. “You don’t have to take care of everybody, you know. You can slow down. You can relax, and let someone else help you out, too.” He smiled slightly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to show you.”

Something seemed to snap in you then. You hadn’t even realized how badly you had been wanting someone to help you, to pay attention to you, to take care of you for once. The fact that Cassian had noticed even before you did how badly you needed someone to be there for you made it even more unbelievable.

Your feet seemed to move without your brain’s permission, stepping right up to Cassian, cupping his face in your hands, and kissing him.

Cassian responded immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulling you to sit on his lap. He weaved his hands through your hair, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin at your waist where your shirt had ridden up the slightest bit.

His lips trailed down your neck, and he murmured, “You never answered my question.”

“Don’t stop,” you panted.

He chuckled into your neck before kissing you on the lips again. “Don’t stop kissing you? Or don’t stop taking care of you?”

“Both,” you smiled, taking his face in your hands and kissing him again.

“You got it,” Cassian smiled against your mouth.

After a few moments, you pulled back, tracing the edge of his jaw with your thumb. “Thank you, Cassian. Really,” you said quietly.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t even realize how badly I wanted someone else to watch out for me for once.”

Cassian kissed you gently. “I’m here for you now. Whatever you need. Whether you know it or not.”

You smiled, nuzzling into his neck, hardly believing it.

---

It took some time, but you eventually became more used to Cassian’s eyes on you, to not be shocked when he handed you a plate of food or washed the dishes for you.

You were still very much the mom friend who took care of everything, as it was in your nature. But you now knew that you had someone looking after you, too. And you couldn’t be more thankful, as Cassian sidled up to you, kissing you on the temple and handing you a glass of water.

“Thank you,” you beamed.

Cassian wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a kiss. “Anytime.”

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @melmo567 @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @halibshepherd @cigvrette-dvydrevms @lilah-asteria @marina468 @evergreenlark @bookloverandalsocats @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @azrielshadows1nger @andreperez11

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animamii · 29 days ago

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Angels Get Their [Chicken] Wings | Toji Fushiguro

another au origin story of lockedup!toji x sweetheart!reader

︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡

The air is thick with smoke and cheap perfume, the low hum of music vibrating through the dimly lit club. Toji slouches in a worn leather chair, one arm draped over the back, the other nursing a glass of bourbon. Swirling it absentmindedly. His dark eyes flick lazily over the girls twirling on stage, their slow, sultry movements barely holding his attention. He’s seen it all before.

Then he notices her.

Perched on one of the high chairs near the bar, she sticks out like a sore thumb—like a goddamn angel who took a wrong turn and ended up in hell. A cute little outfit hugs her figure, sweet but entirely out of place. She’s not here for the show; she’s not vying for attention or throwing cash. No, she’s eating. Picking at a plate of food like she’s sitting at a cozy diner instead of a dingy strip club.

Toji furrows his brows, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "The hell is a girl like that doin’ in a place like this?"

Curiosity burns through the haze of bourbon, and before he even registers it, he’s on his feet. Moving like a predator with no real prey, he saunters over, his heavy boots making little noise against the sticky floor. He leans against the table she's sat at, tilting his head as he takes her in up close.

"You lost, sweetheart?" His voice is low, rough with amusement. "Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone eat a damn meal in a place like this."

She looks up at him with wide, innocent eyes, lips still wrapped around a forkful of food, and Toji suddenly wonders if he just found the most interesting thing in this whole damn club. She blinks up at him, chewing slowly, as if genuinely processing his words. Toji watches as she swallows, then dabs at the corner of her mouth with a napkin before answering.

“Well,” she starts, her voice light and sweet—too sweet for a place like this. “The food here is actually really good.”

Toji’s brows lift. He wasn’t expecting that. He expected nervousness, maybe even fear. But this girl? She just smiles at him, unbothered, like he’s not some imposing stranger who’s way too interested in her presence.

“You eat at strip clubs often?” he asks, leaning a little closer, forearm resting on the table. The scene is oh so contrasting, Toji facing the shadows, face barely visible in the dimness. Whereas her face seemed to glow under the slowly strobing-colored lights that shined towards her. Toji swears he can see a halo floating above her head.

She shrugs, taking another bite. “Not all of them. But this place? Their wings are top tier. Plus, the make the best fried pickles in town.” A dimply smile appears on her face as she pops a fried pickle chip into her mouth.

Toji lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Cute.” He watches her, amused by the way she swings her legs absentmindedly, so damn comfortable in a setting that should have chewed her up and spit her out.

“You come here alone?” he asks, scanning the room out of habit. He doesn’t see anyone watching her, no jealous boyfriend or overprotective friend lurking in the shadows.

She nods, cheeks full from another bite of food. “Mhm.”

He scoffs amusedly, lip tugging to one side with a smirk. “You got a death wish or somethin’?”

She tilts her head, expression still impossibly sweet. “Why? You gonna kill me?”

Toji grins, sharp and wolfish. “Nah, sweetheart. But not everyone in a place like this is as nice as me.” She giggles at that, and Toji swears it’s the most out-of-place sound he’s ever heard in this dingy club. Like a damn bell ringing in a haunted house.

“Nice?” she teases. “That’s not the vibe you give off.”

Toji smirks, amused by her boldness. Most people knew better than to poke at him like that. But here she was, all soft edges and sweet smiles, like she had no idea who she was talking to. Or maybe she did and just didn’t care.

“That so?” he muses, swirling the bourbon in his glass. “Then what kinda vibe do I give off, sweetheart?”

She hums in thought, tapping a finger against her chin. “Hmm… dangerous.”

Toji grins. Smart girl.

“And yet, here you are, sittin’ all nice and comfy next to me.”

She shrugs again, unfazed. “I dunno. You don’t scare me.” Something dark and intrigued flickers in Toji’s eyes. She doesn’t scare easy, huh?

“You probably should be,” he murmurs, just loud enough for her to hear.

She just smiles, takes another bite of her food, and looks at him with those wide, innocent eyes. “But then we wouldn’t be having this fun conversation, would we?” Toji huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Yeah, this girl? She’s trouble. Trouble wrapped up with a pretty pink bow.

Toji watches her, lips curling around the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip of bourbon. She doesn’t squirm under his gaze. Doesn’t shy away like most would. Instead, she just keeps eating, twirling a fry between her fingers before popping it into her mouth. The damn audacity.

He sets his drink down with a heavy clink. “You always this bold, sweetheart?”

She grins, tilting her head slightly. “Only when I meet someone who piques my interest. There's something inter”

Toji chuckles, low and deep. Interesting. That’s a new one. He’s been called a lot of things—dangerous, terrifying, a goddamn nightmare—but never interesting.

“You got a name?” he asks, drumming his fingers against the bar.

She hums, lifting her drink to her lips, it's not even alcoholic, just a shirley temple with too much syrup. “Maybe.”

His smirk widens. Oh, she’s playing with him now.

“You’re a little tease, huh?” He leans in, just enough to make his presence impossible to ignore. She smells sweet—like strawberries and something warm, maybe sugar or dulce de leche. It’s all wrong for a place like this, too soft, too damn inviting.

She doesn’t move away. Just meets his gaze with those wide, curious eyes. “Would it kill you to be a gentleman and introduce yourself first?” Her pink lips turn into a small, almost teasing smile.

Toji lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, sweetheart. Name’s Toji.”

She perks up, finally setting her fork down. “Toji… That’s a cool name.” For a second she looks him over, repeating his name in her mind. Toji, Toji, Toji... It has a nice ring to it.

“I know,” he drawls, a little cocky. “And you?”

She presses her lips together, as if debating whether to answer. Then, finally, she sighs dramatically. “I guess it’s only fair. I’m—”

A crash echoes from the back of the club, cutting her off.

Toji’s body tenses on instinct. He doesn’t even think—his hand goes to his waistband, brushing against the familiar weight of his weapon. Old habits die hard. With vigilant eyes he glances toward the noise, spotting some idiot getting shoved against a table, drinks spilling everywhere.

Just a bar fight. Nothing he needs to worry about.

But when Toji turns back, sweetheart is watching him with an unreadable expression. Not scared, not startled. Just… observing. Like she caught something interesting in that split second.

“You always this jumpy?” she asks, resting her chin on her hand.

Toji snorts, letting his shoulders relax. “Tch. Habit.”

She hums like she’s not fully convinced but doesn’t push. Instead, she picks up her plate again, casually continuing her meal.

Toji leans back, eyeing her with something akin to amusement and curiosity. “You’re real calm for a girl sittin’ next to a guy like me.”

She giggles. That sound again. Soft, light, so fucking out of place. “Maybe I just trust my gut,” she says simply, the prettiest smile on her face.

Toji raises a brow. “And what’s it tellin’ you?” In all honesty he's so confused by her. The soft, seemingly innocent way she looks, she's sweet and tender but isn't fazed by any of the maliciousness that radiates off of him. It freaks him out a bit.

She pops another fry into her mouth, then smiles at him like she’s got him all figured out. “That you’re dangerous, but not to me.”

Toji stares at her, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes. Then, after a beat, he lets out a low, rumbling laugh. “Sweetheart, you got no idea what kinda trouble you’re askin’ for.”

"Ohhh I think I know exactly what kind of trouble you are, Toji." Her voice is like sugar to him, and he's waiting for the next time he gets to hear his name roll of her tongue in that candied drawl.

Toji watches her, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. This girl is something else. Most people—smart people—would have taken one look at him and kept their distance. But here she is, sipping her sugary drink like she’s not sitting next to a man who could snap her in half without breaking a sweat.

He leans in just slightly, elbows resting on the bar, voice dropping into something lower, something meant to dig under her skin.

“You got a thing for danger, sweetheart?” She must have if she's in a shady place like this, even if it's for their damn good lemon pepper and parmesan wings.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t shrink back. Instead, she taps her fingers against her glass, girly acrylics making soft sounds against the cup. Long lashes fluttering, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Maybe,” she muses. “Or maybe I’m just good at knowing who’s worth being scared of.”

Toji huffs out a laugh. Cocky little thing. “And you decided I ain’t?”

"Yup, my intuition is telling me that I'm safe. Don't gotta thing to worry about when it comes to ya, I feel it in my heart," she places her dainty hand over her chest.

"That so?" Something inside of Toji softens as she says that.

She nods, completely sure of herself.

Toji leans back, his smirk slowly fading into a more genuine, intrigued expression. Her confidence in trusting him—of all people—was both surprising and... refreshing. It was rare for anyone, especially someone like her, to feel that way in his presence. Most people would’ve sensed the danger, the raw unpredictability that lingered around him. But not her. She was too calm, too sure of herself, and he couldn't quite figure out if that was a foolish move or the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.

His gaze softens ever so slightly as he watches her, the flickering lights casting a warm glow on her face, making her seem almost untouchable. The contrast between them—the dangerous aura he exuded, and the sweetness she carried—was something he couldn't look away from.

"You sure about that?" he asks quietly, eyes locking onto hers.

She smiles that little, too-sweet smile of hers, the one that seems to carry a secret she’s not sharing, and nods again. “I trust my gut. It’s never wrong.”

Before he can press her further, the bartender swings by, wiping down the counter. “You botherin’ my best customer, Fushiguro?”

Toji barely spares the guy a glance, eyes still fixated on her. “Tch. She don’t seem too bothered.”

The bartender shakes his head, chuckling. “She’s here every week. Sits right there, eats her food, minds her business.” He glances at her, amused. “But looks like she made a friend tonight.”

Toji hums, rolling his glass between his fingers. “That right?”

She just smiles, unfazed. “Maybe.”

The bartender chortles, moving away, and Toji lets the silence stretch between them for a moment. Then he rests his chin in his palm, watching her with something between curiosity and amusement.

“You really come here for the food, huh?” Toji looks down to see her little feast, a bunch of appetizers. Wings and fried pickles, mozzarella sticks and fries.

She nods. “Mhm.”

He chuckles. “Not the entertainment?”

She glances toward the stage, where a girl is languidly spinning around the pole. “That too,” she admits, shrugging. “They work hard. It’s kinda nice to just sit and watch.”

"I don't think I've ever heard someone admire strippers in that kind of way," Toji chuckles again, shaking his head as he takes another sip of his drink. He’s starting to see her in a new light. Most people came to places like this to get lost in the chaos, to escape. But her? She seemed like she was here for the simplicity of it all, for the food and the show, without all the mess that came with it.

"It takes a lot of skill and strength to do something like pole dancing and stripping. Both physical and mental. Plus they dress really pretty," a small, admiring smile sits on her lips and she watches the girls dance on stage.

“You got a good head on your shoulders,” he remarks, watching her with a newfound softness. “You're too kind. Not many people like you would last long in a place like this, especially not alone. You don't seem like you belong here.” Toji's eyes flicker over her again. She looks fresh as a daisy, perfect in this place full of weeds.

She meets his gaze, her expression soft but unwavering. “Maybe I don’t,” she agrees. “But I like to think everyone belongs somewhere, even if it’s somewhere unexpected.”

Toji tilts his head, intrigued by her answer. Most people would be rattled by the place, maybe even scared, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t scared of him either. That was... new. “You really not worried about me?” he asks, leaning in just slightly.

She just smiles, a little mischievous now. “You don’t scare me, Toji. I told you. I trust my gut.” Something stirs in him at her words. A strange warmth mixed with a flicker of respect. Her confidence—it wasn’t arrogance, it wasn’t naive—there was something genuine about it, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He leans back again, eyes never leaving her. “You're somethin' else, sweetheart.”

She grins, dipping a fried pickle into ranch, “Guess we both are.”

The night drags on, the club’s atmosphere shifting into something hazier, maybe even a little shadier. The lights dim further, the music slows, and the crowd thins to the usual stragglers—lonely men nursing cheap drinks, exhausted dancers collecting tips, sniffers going to do lines in the bathroom, and the occasional drunk stumbling toward the exit.

But she is still here. Sweetheart. Sitting pretty, sipping her drink, looking like she belongs in a cozy café rather than this rundown joint.

And Toji? He’s still watching her.

He isn’t sure why he hasn’t walked away yet. Maybe it’s the way she’s completely unbothered by him. Maybe it’s the way her voice lingers in the air, light and teasing, a stark contrast to everything he’s used to. Or maybe he just likes the idea of something soft sitting so close to something dangerous.

“So,” he muses, resting his forearm on the tabletop as he angles himself toward her. “What’s a sweetheart like you do when you’re not sittin’ in a place like this?” Toji had never cared to get to know people—hated it honestly—but he was oh so curious about what this pretty little thing does when she's not in an ugly place like this.

She hums, tapping her nails against her glass. “You mean, when I’m not eating overpriced wings in a strip club?”

Toji smirks. “Somethin’ like that.”

Leaning back slightly, her doe eyes flicker to the stage where one of the last dancers of the night is finishing up. “I work, go to school. I read. I go out sometimes.” She glances at him, lips quirking. “Nothing as exciting as whatever you do though.”

Toji's eyes widen for a split second before he chuckles, low and deep. “You say that like you know what I do.”

She tilts her head, playful but observant. “I have a pretty good guess.” Plump, pink lips wrap around her straw as she takes a long sip of the drink that's just as sweet as her.

“Oh yeah?” Shifting closer, Toji rests his chin in his palm. “Let’s hear it, then.”

A slow exhale leaves her lungs, watching him like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle. “You carry yourself like someone who’s always watching his back. You sit where you can see the whole room. You don’t like people sneakin’ up on you.” She twirls the straw in her drink. “You’re dangerous but controlled. Not reckless. So… I’d say you’re either in some very shady business, or you used to be.”

Toji just stares at her for a moment. Then, a slow grin stretches across his lips.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, letting out a short laugh. “Ain’t you a sharp little thing?”

She returns his grin, taking another sip of her drink. “So I was right?”

Leaning in, Toji's voice dips low. “Maybe.”

A satisfied hum vibrates through her chest. “Figured.”

The bartender passes by again, wiping down the counter, and Toji takes the opportunity to order another drink—for her this time. She blinks when the fresh glass is slid in front of her, tilting her head in question. It looks just like the shirley temple she was sipping on earlier, but lingers with the scent of vodka.

Toji just smirks. “On me, sweetheart.”

She raises a brow, but there’s amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh? And what do I owe you in return?”

Toji taps his fingers against the wooden table, watching her with something unreadable. “Just keep talkin’ to me.” Her lips curl, and Toji swears it’s the most dangerous thing he’s seen all night.

“Deal.”

The drink sits between her fingers, untouched for a moment as she studies him. The club hums around them, but Toji barely notices anymore. The distant bass, the murmured conversations, the occasional clink of glass—it all fades into the background. All he sees is her.

“So,” she starts, picking the vodka-soaked maraschino cherry out of the glass. “You gonna tell me one of those stories now?” Dangling it a bit, she takes a bite, the syrup and vodka dripping from her lip, which she quickly licks with a swipe of her tongue.

Toji smirks, resting his chin in his palm. It almost looks adoring, really. “That eager to know my business, sweetheart?”

Leaning in slightly, she mirrors his posture, her expression playful but steady. “You offered.”

Damn. She got him there.

He exhales through his nose, debating how much he wants to give away. He could make something up, spin a little tale, see if she’d buy it. But for some damn reason, he doesn’t feel like lying to her.

“Hm.” He rolls his glass between his fingers. “Alright. I’ll give you somethin’ light.”

She perks up, smiling as she props her elbow on the bar. “I’m listening.”

Toji lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he swirls the remaining bourbon in his glass. The amber liquid catches the dim light of the club, casting warm reflections against his fingers. “There was this job once,” he starts, his voice slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring the memory. “Some rich asshole wanted a guy handled. Nothing fancy, just in and out. Easy money.”

She hums, propping her elbow on the table as she watches him with interest. “And?”

Toji lifts his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a deliberate clink. His eyes gleam with amusement. “And it was easy… until the guy’s wife walked in.”

Chin resting in her palms, her brows lift, interest sparking in her expression. “Oh?”

Toji huffs out another chuckle, rubbing his jaw as if he can still feel the impact of what happened next. “Yeah. She was holdin’ a fuckin’ frying pan. Came swingin’ at me like she was in a damn action movie.”

Her reaction is instant—she gasps, covering her mouth with her fingers, but it does nothing to muffle the laughter spilling out. “No way.”

“Toji’s honor,” he says with a lazy smirk, lifting a hand like he’s swearing on it. “Damn near cracked my skull open. Had to duck real quick.”

She’s still laughing, shaking her head in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous.”

He shrugs, unfazed. “Hey, love makes people do crazy shit.”

She tilts her head, resting her chin against her palm, still grinning. “And what happened after that?”

Toji snickers, rubbing a hand over his jaw before reaching for his drink again. “Left the guy tied up, made my exit, and let the missus deal with him.” He takes another sip, savoring the heat before adding, “Never took a job on a married man again. Too much trouble.”

She’s still grinning, shaking her head in disbelief. “That’s actually kinda funny. You know, that kinda reminds me of this movie.”

"You talkin' bout Tangled, sweetheart?"

She blinks, caught completely off guard. “Wait—you’ve seen Tangled?” There’s a tinge of surprise in her voice, like she can’t quite picture him—a towering, scarred, broad-shouldered hitman—sitting through a Disney movie.

Toji shrugs like it’s no big deal. “’Course I did.” He glances down at his drink before muttering, “Really like that green fella, the lizard.”

Her lips part before a laugh bubbles up. “The chameleon?”

“Yeah, whatever the fuck he is.” He waves a hand dismissively before taking another drink. “I like ‘em.”

She shakes her head, still giggling. “I just… I can’t believe you sat through an entire Disney movie.”

Toji smirks, looking her over with a lazy kind of amusement. “What, big bad Toji can’t enjoy a damn cartoon?”

She grins, tilting her head playfully. “I dunno. Just figured you’d be more of a Godfather or Scarface kinda guy.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, even a guy like me needs somethin’ lighthearted every now and then.” He gives her a pointed look. “Not like I got a lotta folks sittin’ me down for movie night.”

Her smile softens just a little, something unreadable flickering in her expression. Then, she perks up, grinning again. “Well, since we’re already on Disney movies, I’m dying to know—what’s your opinion on The Lion King?”

Toji exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Ain’t even gonna start with that one. That movie’s got more family trauma than me.”

She bursts out laughing again, and for a second, Toji just watches her, something warm curling in his chest. He likes the way she laughs—soft but full, like she’s not just being polite. Most people look at him and see something to fear. Something sharp and dangerous. But her? She's over here talking Disney movies with him.

“So,” he finally drawls, stretching his long legs out. “My turn.”

Her laughter fades into a curious hum as she blinks, tilting her head slightly. “Your turn?”

Toji straightens just a bit, his elbows still resting on the table as his scarred lip curls up. “Yeah. Told you a story. Now you owe me one.”

She hesitates for the first time all night, lips parting slightly before pressing together. Toji catches it—the flicker of uncertainty, like she’s debating whether she should play along.

Then, after a beat, she sighs dramatically. “Fine. But I don’t have any stories about frying pans and hit jobs.”

Toji chuckles, low and rough, shifting slightly in his seat. “I’ll take what I can get, sweetheart.”

She hums in thought, tapping her nails lightly against her glass before her gaze flicks back to his. There’s something playful there, something challenging. Then, after a moment, she leans in, lowering her voice like she’s about to tell him a secret. “Okay… how about this?” Her lips quirk. “Once, I walked into a bar, and this really dangerous man bought me a drink.”

Toji snorts, shaking his head. “Real funny.”

She grins, clearly pleased with herself. “It’s still happening, so I haven’t figured out how it ends yet.”

There’s something about the way she says it—something light, teasing, but with just enough truth underneath to make him pause. He watches her carefully, studying the way she tilts her head, the way her fingers absentmindedly trace the condensation on her glass. There’s no fear in her eyes, no hesitation, just that same quiet curiosity that’s been there since the moment he first spotted her in this place.

“That so?” he murmurs amused, voice dipping lower.

She nods, slow and deliberate, lifting her glass slightly in a silent toast. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and see.”

Toji huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leans back in his seat. Trouble. This girl is pure trouble.

The club is quieter now, the air thick with the lingering scent of alcohol and now faded perfume. The neon lights overhead flicker intermittently, casting an uneven glow over the bar. Most of the patrons have trickled out, leaving only the stragglers—some finishing their drinks, others too lost in inebriated conversations to notice the late hour.

Toji stretches, rolling his shoulders before settling back into his seat. He’s still watching her, the pretty little thing sitting across from him, grinning like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Like she isn’t sitting next to someone most people would cross the street to avoid.

He taps his empty glass against the counter once before looking at her. “Guess it’s gettin’ late, huh?”

Following his gaze to the clock on the far wall, her doe eyes slightly widen as she makes a soft noise of surprise. “Damn. I didn’t even notice.”

“Too busy enjoyin’ my company, sweetheart?” Toji can't help but smirk for the umpteenth time that night.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. “You’re entertaining, I’ll give you that.”

He chuckles, running a hand through his dark hair. “Flatter me any more, and I might start thinkin’ you like me.”

Tilting her head, she watches him with that same mischievous glint she’s had all night. “And if I did?”

Toji holds her gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He could play it off, tease her right back, but for some reason, he doesn’t. Instead, he lets the moment settle, the air between them thick with something unspoken.

Then, finally, he exhales, grabbing a few bills from his pocket and tossing them onto the counter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you out.”

She raises a brow. “What, afraid I can’t make it to the door on my own?”

“Nah,” Toji says, standing up and stretching lazily. “Just wanna make sure no one else tries to scoop up my company before I’m done with ‘em.”

An airy laugh leaves her lips as she shakes her head, but she slides off the stool anyway. As they make their way toward the exit, Toji’s hand naturally finds its place at the small of her back—not pushing, not pulling, just there. A quiet kind of possessiveness, the kind that says he’s keeping an eye on her, whether she needs it or not.

Outside, the night air is cool against her skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the club. The street is nearly empty, the distant hum of traffic the only real sound cutting through the quiet.

She takes a deep breath, looking up at the sky. “You know,” she muses, “I don’t usually stay out this late.”

Toji hums, lighting up a cigarette and taking a slow drag. “Yeah? What made tonight different?” He finally gets a good look at her. How tiny she looks compared to him, her arms wrapping around herself as she shields herself from the soft breeze of the late night.

She glances at him, something playful yet sincere in her expression. “Guess I just wanted to see how this story ends.”

Toji exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching her through half-lidded eyes. “And?”

She smiles. “Still figuring it out.”

Toji shakes his head, smirking as he flicks ash from the end of his cigarette. “You’re trouble, sweetheart.”

She grins, and Toji finds it fucking adorable. “Yeah, well… I think you like trouble.”

He chuckles, low and rough, before nudging her forward. “Go on, get home before you really start testing that theory.”

She takes a step back, watching him like she’s committing him to memory. Then, with a playful little salute, she turns on her heel and walks off into the night.

Toji watches her go, taking one last slow drag of his cigarette before huffing out a laugh. He realizes he didn't get her name, but he knew he wanted to get into just a little more trouble with his little sweetheart.

︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡

another meet cute but I triedddd to make reader more softer. keyword 'tried' bc I always love when she keeps up with Toji. oh whaleeee!

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pathologicalreid · 1 year ago

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newly creds | S.R.

in which the BAU team wants to see your newly issued credentials

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: marriage. changing your name. slightly suggestive at the end but nothing explicit.

word count: 498

a/n: first and foremost, thank you so much for 100 followers AND for almost 3k likes i am so astounded by this im just so grateful. i absolutely wrote this while i was supposed to be doing privacy law homework. very proud of the title too. also today is my birthday so legally you have to like and reblog this!!! please enjoy <3

“So, let’s see it,” Derek prodded as he leaned over your desk, obviously searching the surface of it for something.

You peered up at him, “Can I help you?”

Before he could properly answer you, Emily entered the bullpen. Her eyes found you and she hastily piled her things on her desk before joining Morgan next to yours. “Do you have it?” She asked, dark hair shining as she inspected your desk.

Obviously, you had missed some sort of memo about whatever ‘it’ is. “I have uh, half of a bagel?” You offered helplessly, gesturing to your unfinished breakfast that was waiting patiently for you on top of a napkin.

“Y/N!” Penelope called your name from the glass doors she was rushing through, “Did I miss it? I want to see!”

Spencer rounded the corner of your desk, slowly placing a mug of fresh coffee on your desk, next to your abandoned bagel. “What’s going on?” He asked, carefully bringing his cup of coffee to his mouth to take a sip.

You shrugged, “They all want to see something but won’t tell me what ‘it’ is.” You grumbled, holding out your left hand, “Is this it?” The whole team had seen your ring already, Emily, Penelope, and JJ had even helped Spencer pick it out. You wondered if maybe they all wanted to see the engagement ring with your wedding band.

“Y/N,” another voice called, you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands as you turned to face JJ. “Did you get the envelope that was on your desk? It got delivered to me by mistake, but I kept it safe while you two were honeymooning.”

Your lips parted, “Oh!” Quickly, you realized what everyone was pestering you about. You and Spencer had just gotten back from your weeklong honeymoon. The both of you got to work first, just to find a package on your desk. Rolling your chair back slightly, you rolled your eyes, “You know, you all could’ve just said something.”

You reached into your desk drawer and pulled out your credentials before unclipping your badge from your belt loop. Handing your creds to Derek and your badge to Garcia, who squealed in excitement, you couldn’t help but smile at Spencer. “SSA Y/N Reid,” Derek said, sounding like a proud parent.

Spencer placed a hand on your shoulder, and you beamed, “I wasn’t expecting them so quickly, I don’t even have my new driver’s license yet.”

“Does this mean you’re both going to answer to Reid now?” Emily asked, smiling at the prospect of confusion.

Shaking your head, you took your badge back, “Not unless it’s a prank. Hotch actually specifically asked us not to do that.”

“Welcome back,” Rossi said, walking into the bullpen and passing your desk. “I sure hope the two of you had the same kind of fun I did on my third honeymoon,” he teased, winking as he continued up to his office.

Spencer choked on his coffee.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #david rossi #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #written by margot

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kitkatpancakestack · 2 months ago

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K's favorite sterek fic recs

This is for my beloved kri @tenisperfection who was so brave to get into tw in 2024 <3 (and also bc I wanted to have all my ultimate faves in one place lol). In no particular order:

Homeland (obligatory self-promotion)

Still by coppersin

My taco sparkles by butyoureyessaidyes

Nearly everything shines by maevewren

This space is for you by matildajones

Separate skins by RurouniHime

Darling, Dearest, Dead by standinginanicedress

Like french vanilla ice cream by GotTheSilver

God was a dog-man by spqr

Crash landers by gyzym

Outrun your ghosts by wangler

Lay your armour down by stilinski

Cozy Forest Retreat! 1bed/1bath by andavs

In the upper story by toraten

The broken radio is playing suicide by decideophobia

A desperate arrangement by mikkimouse

Sparkly pens by mm_coconut

Southpaw series by elisela

Just once by stilinskisparkles

In other words, baby, kiss me by primeroseshows

tie your napkin 'round your neck, cherie by magneticwave

I wish I had a river by thepsychicclam

Patience gets us nowhere fast by vendelin

the lovers [murderers] in 9B by ofherlionheart

One thread by RurouniHime

Put down in words by paintedrecs

Enemy lines by qhuinn (tekla)

Beyond the canyon nook by raisesomehale

Pack up; don't stray by the_deep_magic

Hunger for your touch by WhoNatural

Where you still remember dreaming by yodasyoyo

How Derek met his smallest fan by purpleduvet

Hear it in the silence by elisela

Tiny houses by ohmyjetsabel

But, doctor! By stilinskisparkles

In case the daylight never comes by plume_bob

Home by thetypewritergirl

Play crack the sky by wearethecyclones

Windows by dr_girlfriend

#sterek #fic recs #i hope when you get around to reading you find some good food here kri! MWAH!#also i know i said id do this forever ago....my brain apologizes ...but here you go!

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riddleswhcre · 3 months ago

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────۶ৎ riddle's temptation

you're playing a dangerous game with tom riddle—sharp words, stolen touches, and a tension so electric it burns. he's unravelling you piece by piece, and the worst part? you don’t want him to stop.

warnings: smut, characters are 19+, p in v, fingering, spanking, age gap.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

the dining room shone with opulence, a sort of grandeur that appeared to be the property of the old money and of long lineages. crystal chandeliers cast soft shards of light across the walls, while the grand tablecloth lay over a table covered in ivory fabric with golden appliqués. in the ambient soft murmuring of people, conversation trailed into the noise, punctuated by the clinking of utensils against porcelain.

there you were, on the edge of the table, poised, yet paying careful attention to the fellow across the table. tom riddle.

it wasn’t just his presence—though he commanded a room effortlessly with his sharp cheekbones, dark hair slicked immaculately, and a piercing gaze that seemed to strip bare anyone it landed upon. no, it was the posture that he inhabited, languorous yet always master of himself, with a charm that was irresistible. your father had always been telling stories of his intelligence, charm, and cleverness. a trusted confidant, a man of remarkable intellect.

but he was far more than that to you.

the first time you had met him, you were barely out of school, just turned 18. and there was something about the fact that his dark eyes always lingered and, meaning to be critical, knowing and utterly smug, that was just off-putting enough. you had caught him looking at you on more than one occasion, his gaze burdened with a feeling you had the temerity not to reveal.

and tonight, right there next to each stolen look, tucked under the cotton of his every crisp piece, all felt like a game of roulette.

"you've really gone all out with this evening's meal," tom drawled softly to your father, his rich voice piercing the background a smooth surgeon's blade cutting through steel. “the perfect balance of indulgence and refinement.”

your father laughed, pride shining in his crinkles. “coming from you, tom, that’s quite the compliment.”

you tried to pay attention to the conversation, the flow of other voices in the background. but tom shifted in his chair, his arm brushing yours ever so slightly, and suddenly the air felt stifling. your pulse quickened, though you fought to appear unaffected. he looked at you and then, his lips gave a slight tilt into a smug smile and he spoke to you, in a low voice, barely audible.

“you’re unusually quiet tonight, sweetheart.”

the epithet sent a tingle up your back and you grabbed for your wine glass, wishing for something to anchor you. he was always like this, weaving a spell of subtle provocations and leaving you teetering on the edge of composure.

dinner flowed, laughter building up as mutual acquaintances reminisced and told tales. you kept a veneer of polite nods, and would get in on the conversation from time to time, but your thoughts drifted far and wide. each moment spent near tom felt like a tightening string, the tension building with every passing second.

the tablecloth covered much, draped thick fabric over thighs and knees. your hand rested in your lap, idly sketching patterns into the napkin that laid out before your thighs. tom moved forward a little closer, confiding in your father about a future business plan. his hand moved under the table edge as he talked.

at first it was only a very faint stroke, as light as, almost, you thought to be hallucination. but then his fingers pressed firmly against your knee. you stiffened, glancing sharply in his direction. he didn't stare at you, not even comment on what he was doing. his expression remained perfectly neutral, his tone measured as he engaged in casual conversation.

but his hand moved higher.

your breath caught in your throat, and you reached down from under the table and put your hand over his hand, in vain effort to stop him. his fingers did not slide, but stroked along in a focused manner on your thigh. you felt the chill of his ring on your skin, amidst the heat building up in your abdomen.

"darling," he murmured under his breath, tilting his head just enough so his words reached your ear alone. “relax.”

relax? was he serious? your father was only inches away, chuckling over something one of the others had said. you were surrounded by people, yet tom’s touch made the entire room fade into irrelevance.

he squeezed your thigh gently and your stomach churned. his hand didn’t wander further—he wasn’t reckless, not tom. no, that was computed, a bait to unseat you little by little. his thumb drew small circles against your skin, maddeningly slow, as if testing how far he could push you before you broke.

you turned your head to glare at him, your cheeks burning. at last, he locked his eyes with yours, his face unapologetically serene, yet his dark eyes sparkled with smugness and an even deeper, something unsettling, something that set your heart racing.

“careful, he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent heat flooding your cheeks. “you wouldn’t want to cause a scene, would you, doll?

the endearment trickled from his mouth like honey and your hand around the glass of your wine became tighter. he smirked, victorious, before finally withdrawing his hand. it was almost as negative not to have his feeling of touch in comparison to having it, as it left your skin with a feel of pricking and your mind in chaos.

tom leaned back on his chair, perfectly relaxed and went on discussing as if it had never occurred. but when his knee brushed against yours under the table, a silent promise lingered between you.

this wasn’t over.

the rest of the dinner felt like a fever dream. you responded when spoken to, nodded when required, and kept your eyes fixed on your plate far more than necessary. but tom, in contrast, was infuriatingly rational, and could be very sweet as he spun both jokes and personal stories. he looked just how the upstanding fellow your father worshipped would appear, but you knew better.

at long last the dinner came to an end and the guests made their way down to the adjacent drawing-room to have drinks. your father went out to chat with a friend by the fireplace, and left you briefly by yourself. and you sighed happily, able at last to let out a full exhalation. but the reprieve was short-lived.

“sweetheart.”

instantaneously, the voice was unmistakable, deep and resonant, making a quivering shiver run up your back. you swivelled round to find tom behind you, his countenance inscrutable, yet his dark eyes flashing with something you dared not to acknowledge.

“i believe we need to talk," he said softly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

you glanced around, your pulse quickening. the room was filled with people, yet none paid you any mind. he put out his hand and although you knew you should refuse, an entirely unspoken push moved you to accept it.

his hold was strong, his palm was warm as he led you through a narrow passageway to the side of the crowd. the noise of laughter and clinking glasses faded with each step, replaced by the pounding of your own heart.

he came to a halt in front of a door of heavy oak construction, and slid the door open with no effort. the room beyond was dimly lit, a study or library of some kind, its walls lined with shelves of leather-bound books. the air smelled faintly of aged paper and mahogany.

with the door shut with a click, the silence went on and on and on. you faced him, your throat tight, every urge pushing you back a few paces. but tom stepped closer, his movements unhurried, deliberate.

“you’ve been avoiding me all evening," he whispered under his breath, amusement mingled with a deeper, darker tone. “was it something i said? or perhaps something i did?”

you opened your mouth to speak, but the speech failed to get out. he took another step forward, his presence overwhelming, and suddenly he was close enough that you could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jawline, the cool glint of his signet ring.

“you shouldn’t have touched me," you managed, though the words came out far weaker than intended.

he cocked his head, his mouth forming the infernal smirk. “no? then why didn’t you stop me, darling?”

your breath caught as his hand went up and rubbed a stray piece of hair out of the way across your face. the sensation was warm, almost tender, yet it set your nerves on fire.

what do you think you are doing to me? he intoned, as his eyes lingered at your mouth for only a second before returning mine. “sitting there, looking so lovely, so untouchable. it’s maddening.”

“tom—”

he covered the gap between you in one smooth movement and his arms came to rest on your waist.

your protestations, tentative and feeble, became nothing more than mumble on your tongue as his thumb grazed against your hip, his caress both possessive and forlornly tender.

"tell me to stop" he choked, his breath a hot caress on your cheek. “if you want me to, tell me now, doll.”

but you couldn’t. the sentences just wouldn't appear, caught in the middle of your brain reels and the tingling, heady draw of his figure. he watched you very closely, his gaze searching, and when you did not answer, he came closer.

his lips brushed against yours, feather-light, testing. it wasn’t enough to claim but enough to ignite. when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, his movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring every second.

his fingers then went from the very centre of your waist to the lower part of your back, pulling you closer and you gave in, every grammatical notion melting away under the power of his hand.

"sweetheart," he whispered into your lips, his tone husky with control. “you’re going to ruin me.”

the words sent a thrill through you, a dangerous mix of exhilaration and fear. but you didn’t pull away. intead, you moved in closer, your fingers grasping the material of his suit jacket as if to tether yourself.

the sound of footsteps in the corridor pulled you back into the real world. you pulled away suddenly and breathlessly. your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. tom stared at you, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of frustration passed through his dark eyes.

“go back,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “before someone notices.”

he paused, his eyes meeting yours for only a beat longer before backing away. he adjusted his suit, composure returning with disconcerting rapidity.

"this isn't over," he murmured, his voice hushed yet promising.

and as you got out of the room, your heart beating, you realized he was right.

the laughter of the living room enveloped you as a wall when you turned back into the happy crowd, the cheer conflicting with the storm inside you. your father stood near the fireplace, engrossed in a story that had everyone around him roaring with laughter. there, to the side, tom was waiting.

a woman hovered near him—a brunette in a sleek, emerald dress that clung to her like a second skin. she was beautiful, poised, and entirely too close. her fingers brushed against his forearm as she giggled at some joke he made, a laughter which was, clearly, far too rehearsed and too predictable.

your stomach twisted.

tom looked unflinching, his dark pupils bouncing for a split second to hers then back to your father's group. however, there was a certain ease in his stance that set off a shock wave of anger in your heart.

you locked eyes on him, and for just a moment, something undecipherable came across his expression. then his lips quirked into a faint smirk, as though the scene unfolding between him and the woman meant nothing. however, it told a different story when her fingertips brushed against the fabric of his sleeve.

disgusted, you contort your expression—pain mixed with rage—while you make eye contact with him. his smirk faltered ever so slightly. good.

“i’m not feeling well," you announced, directing your words to your father but loud enough for the others to hear. “i’m going home.”

your father glanced at you with concern. “are you alright? do you need someone to escort you?”

tom moved confidently to the side, his voice a silky caress which gave your skin a tingle. “i’ll take her. it’s no trouble.”

you made a sudden right turn, forcing him off before he could get in the position to finish the closing distance. “no, thanks, you said coolly, letting your gaze dart pointedly to the woman lingering near him. “i’m sure you’re busy with far more important matters.”

the silence stretched for just a moment too long, but you didn’t care. ignoring the response, you turned on your heel and walked away from the room, the pressure of tom’s eyes burning your back.

when you got there, it was dark in the manor, the imposing hall in shadows illuminated by moonbeams streaming in through the window arches. your footsteps silently led you to the study, where you had to retrieve a book left there some time ago.

you heaved the massive door open and the smell of old leather and paper welcomed you. but as you stepped inside, you froze.

tom riddle sat in the chair near the fireplace, cloaked in shadows, his posture relaxed yet commanding. with one hand resting on the armrest and with the other hand holding a glass of brownish dark liquid that sparkled down in the dim light.

“what are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice sharp as you flicked on the nearby lamp.

the light revealed his face, his expression unreadable but his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “you left so abruptly. i thought it best to check on you.”

you crossed your arms, refusing to let him see how much his presence unsettled you. “how considerate,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “shouldn’t you be with your date? she might miss you.”

tom chuckled quietly, a reverberant, resonant sound only added to the annoyance. he swirled the glass in the palm of his hand, staring into you, maddeningly. “she means nothing," he said, his voice calm but edged with finality.

his indifferent manner just made the fire in your chest grow bigger and bigger. "you expect me to believe that?" you snorted as you took another step towards her. “after she practically threw herself at you all night?”

“you’re jealous," he said simply, as if stating a fact.

your anger surged, hot and unrelenting. instinctively, you lifted your hand to hit him, driven by the strongest, consciousness of that infuriating smirk of revenge retaken. but he moved faster.

his hand shot out grasping hold of your wrist with a firm grasp before your hand could get hold of it. the force of it jarred you off balance, and he sprang up from the chair in a single contoured turn, towering over you.

“careful, doll,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “you don’t want to test me.”

"release me," you snarled, struggling to break free from your armrest.

your chest visibly strained to maintain your composure, yet your gaze never wavered. “you’re insufferable,” you hissed.

a dark smile spread across his lips. “and you’re in need of a lesson.”

before you could answer, he got back in the chair, pulling you back in a single fluid, easy movement. as you yelped, you saw yourself lying across his laps, your belly against his thighs.

“tom!" you protested, trying to push yourself up, but his hand pressed firmly against the small of your back, holding you in place.

"you've had a quite a bit of attitude tonight," he remarked, deceptively neutral. his free hand rubbed against the backof your hip, his contact intentional and provocative. “it’s about time someone corrected it.”

“let me go,” you demanded, though your voice wavered.

he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “not until you’ve learned some respect, sweetheart.”

his words gave a chill on the back of your neck, a peculiar feeling between anger and an unexplainable type of emotion. he moved just so, his hand sliding up your back in a slow, steady swipe, and his touch set off every nerve it crossed.

“you can fight me all you want," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “but we both know how this ends."

tom's hold on your waist squeezed a little tighter against his lap as you wriggled, your heart pounding in your ears.

"stay calm," he said, his voice quiet but bearing an imperative tone. it wasn’t a shout—it didn’t need to be. the implied control in his voice caused your suffering to fail, your breath to become faster in the freeze.

“tom, this isn’t—” you started, your voice wavering.

“isn’t what?" he interrupted smoothly, his hand resting just below the curve of your hip. the heat from the inside of his hand flowed through the fabric of your gown and set even your already frayed nerves on high alert. “isn’t appropriate? isn’t deserved?”

your jaw clenched, refusing to answer. that provoked a barely audible chuckle from him, a sound that was both irritating and seductive.

“i’ve let you push me too far tonight," he said, his hand sliding lower to rest on the curve of your thigh. his fingers pressed gently, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of heat racing through you. “but that ends now.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you spat, though your voice lacked conviction.

“am i?” he mused, tilting his head slightly. or are you just terrified that you enjoy it when i run the show?

his words were like a spark to dry tinder, and you twisted in his hold, attempting to wriggle free. but his strength was implacable, his grip firm but not painful, a silent reminder of just how much he held the upper hand.

“stop squirming,” he murmured, his voice like velvet. “you’re only making this harder for yourself, sweetheart.”

your face burned from the double meaning, and you stared at him over your shoulder. “you’re insufferable.”

"and you," he said, putting his free hand gently on top of your thigh, stroking it in a disturbingly slow cadence, “deserve a bit of a lesson.

before you could think of a comeback, his hand lifted and came down in a sharp yet measured smack against the soft curve of your ass. it wasn't a painful sensation at all, that's more of a shock than such, but it sent a jolt of heat flooding through you nonetheless.

you gasped, twisting to glare at him. “tom!”

he smirked, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “that was for your attitude earlier,” he said simply.

“you can’t just—”

another light smack silenced your protest, his touch deliberate but not rough, as though testing your reaction. "i can and i will," he said, voice even, uncanny and unsettlingly composed. “unless, of course, you’d like me to stop?”

your heart beat frantically against your ribs in a conflict between outrage and something completely inexplicable. his question floated in the space, a proposition as much as a call.

when you didn't reply, this hand lingered on top of your thigh, his finger grazing in repeated deliberate circles onto your skin. the emotional weight of the movement ran through you, your body saying the millions of words the should be silent.

"nothing to say right now, hm?" he mumbled, lowering himself to where his lips grazed the hair of your ear. perhaps, after all, i've finally found a way to tame that sharp tongue of yours.”

you tightened your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. however, when his hand ascended further and his fingers spread across your upper thigh, a soft gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it.

"careful darling," he said in a low voice, his voice sibilant, combining threat and seduction. “i might start to think you’re enjoying this.”

your head snapped up, and you twisted again to face him, your cheeks flushed with indignation. “i’m not.”

“liar," he said simply, his lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts infuriating and devastatingly alluring.

his hand settled on your thigh, his grip firm but not cruel, holding you in place as though daring you to challenge him further. his weight on your hand sparked your thoughts to fly into a dizzy spin and every prick of his fingers faded the border between rage and something far more threatening.

the room was silent save for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint crackle of the fireplace. his gaze bore into you, intense and unyielding, as though he could see every thought racing through your mind.

"tell me to stop," he said, for a second time, in a soft but insistent tone. “and i will.”

but you didn’t.

you remained silent, your breath shallow and uneven as his words hung in the air. his challenge was clear, yet you found yourself paralyzed, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to end this dangerous game.

tom’s smirk deepened as the seconds stretched, your silence speaking volumes. "that’s what i thought," he said, in a tone red with contentment.

his hand, still soft against your thigh, shifted a bit, his thumb moving in slow, deliberate strokes higher and higher. the motion was maddeningly light, his touch both comforting and infuriating, and you hated how your body responded despite your better judgment.

“look at you," he said softly, his voice low and intimate. “so defiant, so determined to push me away. and yet…" his thumb pressed a fraction harder, a small movement that sent a jolt of sensation racing through you. “…here you are. perfectly content to stay exactly where i want you.”

your breath hitched, and you struggled to muster a retort, but the weight of his hand, the steady cadence of his voice, unraveled the edges of your resistance.

"you’re insufferable," you hissed.

tom chuckled, the voice a low, resonant and smooth rumbling vibration through the air in between the two of you. “you’ve said that already, darling," he replied, leaning down so his breath ghosted across your ear. “it’s almost like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

his other hand then settled flat on the small of your back, pressing you down harder against his lap. the shift in position left you breathless, the heat of his body seeping into yours, and you felt every inch of his cock hard beneath you—his strength, his control, his relentless presence.

"do you know what i see when i look at you?" he asked, his voice a low hum that made your spine tingle. “a spoiled little girl who’s never had anyone dare to put her in her place.”

your eyes flashed with indignation, and you twisted in his hold, trying to push yourself up. “and you think you’re the one to do it?”

his grip tightened slightly, keeping you firmly in place. “oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement, “i know i am.”

before you could argue, his hand went up once more coming down with another smack against the curve of your ass. the sound was sharp in the quiet room, but the sensation was more surprising than painful—a mix of heat and pressure that sent a flare of something unfamiliar coursing through you.

you gasped, your fingers curling into fists as you turned to glare at him over your shoulder. “you’re out of your mind.”

“perhaps,” he admitted with a faint smirk. “but i think you like it.”

his hand had evened over the point where he had landed as if to comfort it. the contrast left you reeling, your body at war with your mind as every nerve seemed to come alive under his ministrations.

“admit it,” he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “you crave this. someone who won’t back down, who won’t let you hide behind that pretty little mask of yours.”

you tightened your jaw, refusing to provide him with a response. but the way your body betrayed you—the flush in your cheeks, the quickened rhythm of your breath—was answer enough.

tom's hand moved up higher, gliding over your waist, the feeling of his touch both possessive and calculated. "you can try to win this fight the way you see fit," he said, his voice dropping close to a hush. “but we both know the truth.”

he bent down and his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “you belong to me.”

the words sent a shiver through you, your resolve wavering as the weight of his presence threatened to consume you entirely. yet, as your physical body did so, your mind refused to yield to that defeat with debilitating obstinacy, refusing to be taken down easy.

you turned your head, meeting his gaze with a glare that was equal parts anger and vulnerability. “you don’t own me," you said, your voice trembling but firm.

his eyes darkened, his expression hardening ever so slightly. “don’t i?”

the challenge hung between you, heavy and charged, as his grip on your waist tightened imperceptibly. he didn’t strike again—he didn’t need to. the mere appearance of his was quite enough to make you gasp, every caress, every utterance, a preconceived manoeuvre in this ceaseless war of minds.

he shifted his hand, pulling your panties aside. his fingers hovered just inches from where you needed him most, but he didn’t touch—he lingered, waiting.

"i'm not moving my fingers until i hear you say you need me," tom said, his voice cold and controlled, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that left no room for refusal. he talked in a sharp, calculating tone, as if he enjoyed having the power over you.

your arousal was evident, as he could perceive your glistening form illuminated by the soft light in the room. you were undeniably wet for him, though reluctant to acknowledge it. "tom, please…" you uttered.

"please, what?" he whispered, his fingers drawing closer to your arousal.

"please, just touch me," you said, having reached your limit with his teasing.

that was all it took. tom's fingers brushed against you ever so lightly, trailing down your folds and gathering your arousal. "look at me," he commanded, as he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting the evidence of your desire.

you gasped when his fingers trailed up to his lips, tom's gaze held yours as he tasted you, evoking a tingle through your cunt.

he withdrew his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, then tipped them towards your aching pussy. "if i'm doing this, i need to make sure you're ready for me, sweetheart," he mumbled. softly, he began to slide a finger in, and with a soft whimper, he stretched your cunt.

he cautiously moved his finger, testing your response to gauge if it was too much for you. you wriggled a bit, not accustomed to the sensation, and your cheeks flushed with shame as a gentle moan slipped out of your mouth.

"don't be shy, sweetheart," tom commanded. "let me hear it all." you could feel him growing harder beneath your stomach.

he added another finger, curling them both inside you. that sensation induced a maelstrom of bliss, churning your guts in ways you hadn't even imagined were real. the slow, deliberate movements of his fingers inside you set your body on fire, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. as your moans grew louder, he quickened his pace, each motion bringing you closer to the edge.

"tom… that feels incredible," you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment.

you wanted to look at him—at his face—feeling slightly insecure about the unfamiliarity of it all. turning your head awkwardly, you tried to catch a glimpse of him, despite the compromising position of being sprawled on your stomach across his lap. his fingers moved inside you, pushing you closer to the edge of your climax.

"not so fast, sweetheart," he drawled, pulling his fingers back and leaving you whimpering in rebellion. come on, get up," he said softly, and you complied, rising with a few hesitations to your feet.

"come here, doll," he coaxed, pulling you closer by the waist as you straddled his lap. "taste this for me—taste how wet i make you feel." he raised his fingers to your lips. you hesitated, looking up into his eyes. the focus of his stare challenged you to disobey him. at last you parted the rim of your mouth and allowed his fingers to enter your mouth.

"that's my good girl," he whispered, a proud grin crossing his lips. tom's fingers slid out from under your mouth, and a warm sensation that wouldn't go away remained on your jaw as he delicately held your chin. his was a firm but gentle pressure that led your face toward his and his lips captured yours in a lusty, passionate kiss.

he got to his feet and held you tight with his strong arms around your thighs, supporting you while your legs instinctively encircled his waist. your lips stayed closed, lips and breaths commingled into a sensual kiss increasing in depth with every passing moment. with careful precision, he carried you to the couch, lowering you gently onto the soft cushions. his body moved seamlessly between your legs, drawing you closer as the intensity of the moment surged.

"you're so perfect," he murmured, his voice low and filled with awe as his eyes traced every feature of your face.

your eyes shifted down to his lips, and a soft heat emanated up to the tops of your cheeks.

"thank you, tom," you said, your voice a bit shaky, but full of sincerity.

he shivered at the sound, his breath hitching. "say my name again," he pleaded, his tone raw with longing.

"tom," you murmured, the sound a feather against his ear as you brushed your fingers through his strands. gently, you got entangled in the silky fibres and pulled him towards you until without a space between the two of you the breath of your lips collided in a shorthand of passion and longings.

his lips gently but intensely travelled the whole of your face, never leaving unmarked. he creeped down to your neck, bouncing between quiet, wet kisses and playful, teasing bites that produced chills up and down your spine. each kiss ignited a flutter of butterflies in your stomach, a sweet ache of longing and excitement. as he continued his journey, his teeth and lips left a trail of delicate bite marks, little symbols of his possessive affection—marking you as his in the most intimate way possible.

he murmured something under his breath, his voice low and unfamiliar, laced with a power you couldn’t comprehend. even as you were processing it, clothes were vanished, perfectly stacked to the floor, like they'd been conjured up by some force unseen. a shiver ran through you as the cool air caressed your now-bare skin, your mouth falling open in both shock and awe at the sudden display of magic—magic he performed effortlessly, without so much as a wand.

"how–how did you do that?" you stammered, your voice shaking from both excitement and shock.

"shh," he mumbled, lips grazing yours as he kissed his way slowly down your chest. his hand tightened about your waist, possessively, a feeling impossible to shake, a promise of the marks you’d find in the morning—a reminder of this moment, of him.

his warm lips wrapped around your sensitive, hardened nipple, his teeth grazing it gently before his tongue soothed the spot with slow, deliberate strokes. the sensation sent a delicious shiver racing down your spine, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through you. his eyes lifted, locking onto your face with an intensity that felt almost tangible, tracing every curve, every nuance, as if memorizing you in that fleeting moment.

your breath caught in your chest as you sensed the heat and pressure of his strong cock pushing hard against your wet little cunt, a sensetion that made a shiver run up and down your spine. his lips broke away your taut, sensitive nipple with a wet plop, leaving it it throbbing and wet from his focus.

unbroken, his mouth moved on down, the scrape of his teeth grazing your skin as he left a trail of bite marks blooming across your tender flesh.

the sight of his handiwork—of tom staking his claim in vivid, undeniable marks—made your pulse quicken, a wave of need pooling deep within your pussy. the thought of his mouth exploring every inch of you, claiming you so intimately, pulled a soft, involuntary moan from your lips.

“enjoying yourself already, doll? his voice was low and teasing, dripping with cocky confidence as his eyes locked with yours. there it was, that signature smug grin on his face, in part arrogant and part intoxicating. “i haven’t even started yet.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back a sarcastic remark, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “i hate that stupid smirk of yours," you muttered, unable to stop the small hitch in your breath when his thumb brushed across one of the marks he’d made.

“sure you do,” he drawled, the grin widening as he leaned in closer.

he paused, taking a deep, steadying breath, his body pressed close to yours, radiating heat. his hand brushed against your hip, grounding you as he lined himself up with your entrance. slowly, he pressed forward, the slickness of his precum mingling with the evidence of your arousal. the head of his length stretched you in the gentlest way, teasing you as he slid just the tip in and out, building an unbearable tension.

then, in one swift motion, he pushed all the way in and burying himself to the hilt. the sudden fullness wrenched a soft scream from your lips, your body arching instinctively in response.

the stretch was overwhelming, the sensation brought tears to your eyes, hot streaks rolling down your cheeks, unbidden, as you tried to catch your breath in the midst of him filling you completely.

tom's face fell into the hollow of your neck, his breath hot and deep on my skin as a deep, booming groan echoed from tom. the tightness of your pussy around him made him lose composure for a moment. “you’re so tight," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

instinctively, your pussy clenched around him, and he let out a low chuckle, though his tone was edged with warning. “if you keep squeezing me like that, darling, i won’t be able to stay gentle,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck in a teasing bite that sent a shiver through you.

when he pulled back slightly, his gaze met yours—softened now as he caught the pained grimace that flickered across your face. you felt stretched, almost impossibly so. his brows furrowed with concern, and he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered soothingly, “it’s okay, shh… it’s alright. i’ve got you." the reassurance was a mantra, spoken over and over as his thumb stroked your hip, grounding you.

“t-tom, it’s too big. i can’t,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with uncertainty. his lips closed into a subtle little smile, and tilted his forehead against yours while his eyes held forth deep quietness. "yes, you can," he whispered, voice firm and resolute, a vow in the incantation. slowly, carefully, he moved, his actions deliberate and measured, letting you feel every inch of his patience and devotion.

“i’m going to move now," tom murmured, his voice low and husky as he drew in a steadying breath. his gaze met yours, darkened with desire, as he crashed back into you. the sensation tore a sharp moan from your lips, the sound echoing in the charged space between you.

“oh, fuck, tom." you gasped, your voice trembling as his slow, deliberate movements made every nerve in your body ignite. the initial sting began to fade, melting into a swelling warmth that coursed through you, each thrust drawing you deeper into a haze of pleasure. he moved with an almost reverent tenderness, as though afraid to hurt you, and the care in his actions tightened something sweet and aching in your chest.

but soon, restraint gave way to raw need. his pace quickened, each thrust sharp, deliberate, and impossibly deep. instinctively, your arms wrapped themselves around his back, grabbing hold of him, and created faint indentations in his flesh.

“shit,” tom hissed, his breath hot against your neck. he gasped softly as your nails made their mark upon him, his urge to resist falling apart. then, with a muttered curse, he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. before you could object, the smooth fabric of his tie wrapped them around you, binding you with a grace that made your heart thud in your chest like a drum.

"as soon as you move your arms i’m stopping," he warned, growling voice. his gaze burned into yours, challenging and tender all at once. he shifted slightly, his hand slipping to your throat, the pressure firm but not unkind. his thumb brushed along your jaw as his eyes roamed over you, drinking in the way your body responded to him.

"fuck," he mumbled, rolling his head back as he thrust into you again, the impact rippling up his body. every time he went inside you, you could sense him straining, feel him getting harder, feeling the sensation of himself being consumed by sight and touch of you.

“you look so damn good taking me, princess," he rasped, his voice thick with reverence and need. his movements became almost frantic now, a primal rhythm driven by the way your body welcomed him so completely.

the way he moved, the way his intense gaze locked onto you, and the way he made your entire body hum with pleasure—everything about him was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

your breaths came shallow, your body vibrated with the anticipation of the tightening of the coil of your climax within you.

tom noticed instantly, his sharp eyes catching every telltale sign. a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face as he shook his head, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“not so fast, doll,” he murmured, pulling out of you suddenly. the emptiness was unbearable, drawing a desperate whine from your mouth. he chuckled at your response, a deep, teasing sound that only deepening the ache in your core.

“tell me, darling,” he croaked, the sound a grating rasp as he drew in and out sharply. he was losing himself, you could feel it—the deliberate control in his movements betrayed by the way his breath hitched when he looked down, captivated by the sight of him disappearing into you. “are you going to misbehave again?”

“no! i won't, i won't—i swear", you choked, your words choked out into a whisper as the need consumed you. “please, tom, please…” you uttered with desperate pleading, almost a gasp, with every syllable wet with yearning.

that's my good little slut," tom snarled, his voice dripping with dominance as he thrust into you with unrelenting force. the impact sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, pulling a moan from your lips that carried his name like a prayer. your back arched instinctively, offering him more, needing him to take everything you could give.

"yes—please, just like that,” you gasped, your voice trembling with desperation. his hands gripped your hips, strong and possessive, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your body to meet his every thrust. the wet sounds of your connection filled the room, each movement driving you both closer to the edge.

his pace quickened, every stroke hard and deliberate, his breathing ragged and shallow as he neared his limit. without warning, his palm cracked against your ass, the sting sending another wave of heat pooling in your cunt.

“just like that," he snarled, through gritted teeth, the strain in his voice revealing how close he was. “such a good girl for me.”

you could feel his control slipping, as his movements became less controlled, more desperate. wanting to push him further, you tightened around him, squeezing him with every ounce of strength you had.

fuck," he grunted in a low, breathless tone, barely a human sound. suddenly, a spark of magic pulsed through the air, unseen but unmistakable. a new sensation bloomed at your most sensitive spot—an invisible force rubbing precise, deliberate circles. the pressure was overwhelming, dragging you to the precipice with dizzying speed.

a scream tore from your throat, his name spilling from your lips as the climax hit you like a tidal wave. your body shuddered uncontrollably, your release spilling over him, coating him in your ecstasy.

tom followed moments later, his grip on your waist tightening as he thrust deep one final time. his body quivered, a deep groan pricking through him as he came, his warm cum filling you. his pace slowed, his each shallow thrust until he finally collapsed against you, careful not to crush you beneath his weight.

his breath fanned against your neck as he rested there, the rise and fall of his chest soothing you as the aftershocks coursed through your body. he cradled you as if you were a treasure, bringing you back into the calm feeling of intimacy that remained after.

after a few moments, he slipped off of you, his movements unhurried but purposeful. stooping to the desk, he reached for a few tissues, putting himself in order first, before returning to clean you with the same meticulous care he always seemed to embody.

you turned onto your side, your gaze drawn to him like a magnet. tom riddle was many things—terrifying, enigmatic, commanding—but in this moment, as you watched him, he was utterly human. his usually immaculate composure had unraveled. sweat beaded on his skin, his dark curls plastered to his forehead. his chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths, and there was something undeniably intimate about seeing him like this—disheveled, undone, because of you.

he returned to your side and knelt down, his sharp eyes softening as they met yours. the shift in his expression made your pulse quicken, your breaths shallow with a nervous kind of anticipation.

“hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate. “open your legs for me, just a little.”

you complied, the shivering in your body unmistakable as you spread your legs apart. his caress was soft and his fingers touched you with utmost care when he was cleaning you. there was no rush in his movements, only a quiet tenderness that made your chest ache.

unable to help yourself, you stared at him, the perfection of his features more striking than ever in the dim light. before you could think better of it, the words spilled from your lips “you’re beautiful.”

he came to a halt, his hand stilling as your sudden confession hung in the air between you. his gaze snapped to yours, and for the briefest of moments, tom riddle looked genuinely surprised. his cool veneer cracked, revealing a hint of vulnerability that you hadn’t expected to see.

your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and you turned your face away, wishing you could take it back. however, at that moment he smiled—a guttural, deep laugh quite different from the crisp, parsimonious chuckles you'd heard before. it was a genuine laugh, warm and unguarded, and it made your stomach flutter.

“thank you, darling,” he murmured, his tone laced with humor but also with something heartfelt. he finished cleaning you with the same deliberate care as before, then rose to his feet. bending down, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

as he turned to dispose of the tissues, you couldn’t help but smile, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. in the silence, the truth of it all settled in: tom riddle wasn’t just beautiful—he was devastatingly so, in ways he probably didn’t even realize.

with a soft hum of magic, he made sure you were clean, the warm tingle of his spell a gentle caress over your skin. he went and grabbed something soothing out for you to wear, his actions relaxed, as if utterly at peace with the silences that surrounded him. carefully, he carried you to your bedroom, his arms steady and protective, and tucked you beneath the blankets with such tenderness it made your chest ache.

as he turned to leave, your hand shot out to grab his wrist. your grip was weak, but your expression said everything—you didn’t want him to go. a shadow of guilt flickered across his features before he gave you a small, almost apologetic smile.

“sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and edged with a wry humor, “your father would kill me if he found out about this." he paused, brushing a thumb over the back of your hand, his gaze softening. “how about i stay until you fall asleep?”

exhausted and too tired to say anything you could only nod, relief flooded through you. at that moment, a smile crept across your mouth as he crawled into the bed next to you and embraced you. his warmth enveloped you, the steady up and down of his chest relaxing you into a feeling of tranquility. he kissed your forehead, the press of his lips lingering for a beat too long, and whispered soft, unintelligible words that carried you into a dreamless sleep.

the next morning, there was quiet as soon as you got out of bed. you hadn’t expected him to stay, but his presence lingered in subtle traces—the scent of him still clinging to the pillow where he’d rested. it was heady, a blend of deep, sweet notes of sandalwood and amber, with a subliminal, bracing quality of cedar. you couldn't help but bury your face right into the pillow and take in deep breaths. the smell was unmistakable, his—a mixture that was all its own, as mysterious and alluring as the man was.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

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charlotteking23 · 5 months ago

Text

The Lion's Lamb - chapter 1 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The lion's lamb series: Aesthetics, Ch. 2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9

You spent most of your life alone. It wasn't your decision but artists tend to isolate themselves by accident. you were the type to find inspiration and peace when alone.

You would spend hours in your room, painting, until your vision became a reality.

Most people would never work as hard as you do to make a living, but you lived in Monaco. The country where money flowed. You knew you weren't like other residents that surrounded her in this country.

You weren't rich and you didn't have a trust fund to fall back onto. Don't get it wrong, your paintings sold high enough to be able to live in the country permanently, but you were barely scrapping by.

Some might ask why you choose to live in Monaco when you could have been living somewhere else more comfortably.

Monaco itself was known for their wealth and in your line of work, you need the rich to buy your work. You had about three regular clients in Monaco that provided 80% of your entire income.

Coffee was the only time you took a break and wandered into the outside world. And today was one of those days where you needed a break. you had been in your room for the past 4 hours trying to come up with something, but your mind was blank with ideas.

A client had commissioned a piece about 3 months ago and gave the 23 year old a wide range of creative ability on the painting as long as it was a darker piece.

You were the epitome of bright and bubbly and couldn't seem to get her mind into a darker frame of thought. With the piece needing to be done in a months time, you were starting to stress.

You had ordered your cup of coffee at your usual spot. You heard your name being yelled at the counter and quickly went up to grab your drink. Once in hand, you turned only to run into a wall, spilling coffee all over herself and the wall.

To add fuel to the fire of the already embarrassing situation, you slipped on the coffee that had spilled on the ground and fell to the floor hard causing more attention to be drawn onto you. While on the ground, you noticed two shoes in front of you.

You hadn't run into a wall like you originally thought, but instead a man. Your eyes followed the shoes all the way up at the man's face.

Piercing blue eyes stared down at you in annoyance. You could tell he wasn't truly taking you in but rather glaring at you for spilling both their coffees.

Jumping up quickly, You immediately grabbed some napkins off the counter of the coffee shop and tried your best to wipe the stains off the mans white shirt.

"I'm so sorry sir!" you said with tears building in your eyes. "I didn't see you! I'm so sorry!"

As you wipe the man's chest, he grabs your hands causing you to look up at him. It was then, he took in the details of you standing before him.

Your big eyes stared up at him, tears threatening to spill out of the sides. You had a light sprinkle of freckles that ran along her cheekbones and over your nose.

You had long hair that was pulled back out of Your face, but bangs to frame your face perfectly. Your lips were the perfect size and your cheeks were now the color of your lips from embarrassment.

There was a certain shine in your eyes that drew him. He couldn't tell if it was because of the tears or something else, but he needed to find out.

"It's alright," he said. You picked up an accent that wasn't from Monaco but you didn't know where.

"Please, sir, let me buy you your coffee! It's my fault, I can at least try make up it up to you by getting you another."

He nods his head at your response causing a smile to erupt across your face. The man loved how every part of your face lit up at his response. He didn't even say a word, yet you acted like he hung the stars just for you.

"How do you like your coffee?" you asked.

"Black," he state.

With a nod of your head, you told him to sit down while you waited in line. There were only two people ahead of you but you didn't want the man to have to stand with you after you ruined his clothes.

Being around him longer than necessary would cause more embarrassment on your part.

After getting both their coffees again, you found your way back to the blue eyed stranger sitting at a corner table by the window.

"Here," you said while putting it on the table. You noticed his shirt was definitely going to stain and winced slightly at the brown blob on his chest "Again sir, I am so sorry!"

You started digging in your bag for some money to give to the man for dry cleaning. Pulling out whatever you had, you tried to hand it to the man, "Here. It's not a lot but it should pay for dry cleaning to get that stain out."

"No," was the simple response you got.

"Please! It'll make me feel better if you take it! It's the only way I can make up for spilling you coffee!"

"Sit down," he said. You tilted your head in confusion at the blue eyed man. "Sit down and tell me your name. I don't want your money but I will take a name and a conversation as payment."

A blush quickly took over your cheeks as you shyly looked away from the man and sat down across from him. When you sat down you finally got a good look at his face.

He was attractive. He had these piercing blue eyes that would stare into your sole. He looked at you with softness but you were scared to be on the other end of that stare when he was angry.

He was tall, or at least taller than you, but that wasn't saying much compared to him. He was a dirty blond and had a bit of scruff that started to turn into a beard.

You could tell he didn't smile much due to him having very little smile lines. He was a serious man and it showed.

"Your name?" He stated.

"(name)," she said softly, "and yours?"

The man's eyes quickly flashed a look of surprise before they softened again, "Max."

546 notes · View notes

nesryn-x · 11 months ago

Text

-----mdni-----

------18+-----

🩸🩸 BUTTER KNIVES🩸🩸

Human!Alastor x f!reader

blood / size kink / bitting / incorrect usage of knives / virgin reader / fucking in general / ALASTOR IS FILTHY AS HELL / porn with plot

---------

Your father always disapproved of him. A girl like you should never marry such man.

"A radio host? Pumpkin, you need a man who will be able to look after you when you grow old." Your father had said to you when you had gathered all your courage at dinner table one evening.

"But... I love him father..." You mumbled quietly.

"Love? You're far too young to know what love is. And besides, didn't you see at the ball how all the girls were looking at him? I can bet, that he looks at all the girls the same." Your father continued and dabbing at his moustache with napkin, cleared his throat:

"I must head out. Moon is out tonight and it's perfect for hunting. Lads will be waiting on me by now."

"Stay safe." Your mother kissed your father on cheek and saw him off. You were left sitting alone at the table, staring at your half eaten plate.

"Dont take it so hard, petal." Your mother stood next to you and gently run her hand through your hair.

"A man I respect is keeping me away from the man that my heart yearns for..." You sighed.

"Does father want me to marry someone I do not love? I'd kill myself in such marriage, mother."

"Don't even say such thing. You know your father is only looking out for you. For your future." Your mother said, trying to calm you.

"Alastor is also looking out for me." You narrowed your eyes at mother. With a hard look down at you, your mother advised:

"I think... It would be better if you did not see him anymore. Don't make your father angry, petal."

You looked up at her, not believing what she had just said.

"What..? Mama... How could you say such thing?" Your lip started to tremble. With blurry vision you looked around the table, butter knives shining in dim light. With angry huff you tried to brush your tears away and stood up, chair falling over in process. Your mother took a step back:

"Behave now." Mother said in sharp tone. You took a quick glance at the clock on the mantle piece and then bolted for the door.

"Where are YOU going at such hour?!" Your mother grabbed your hand before you even got two steps away from table.

"Clearly away from here." You spat, not breaking eye contact.

"You will sit back down, finish your dinner and go straight to bed." Your mother stated, her grip on your arm tightening. What she didn't notice, was how your other hand sneaked behind you and blindly reached for the first thing - the glimmering butter knife.

"I will not do such thing. Now. Let. Go." You said through gritted teeth.

"That's it. You insolent daughter." Your mother's hand reached up to grab your hair, but before she could do so - you were pointing the knife at her.

With wide eyes, both of you stared at the knife that was between you two.

"Mother.... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean--"

Your mother looked up at you and in one swift motion slapped you right across your face. With a cry you clutched your cheek and finally escaped the house. Leaving your mother to seeth back at the doorstep.

Quickly running down the front stairs of the house, you bolted across the yard. Ducked through the wooden fence that held your father's horses out of mother's garden, and run bare feet in the field. Trying to put as much distance between her and yourself.

When you finally had reached the other far off side of stockyard, you felt like you could breath again. Not bothering to climb over the fence you sat in the wet dewy grass and leaned against the fence pole. Distinct sounds of hunters gunshots and hound howls echoed in the forest behind.

You looked down at your hands. Right one still clutching the butter knife. From holding it incorrectly in your hand while on the run, you had accidentally nicked your fingers. New tears gathered in your eyes and you let out pathetic whimper.

"Y/n...?" You heard steps approaching on the other side of the fence on the gravel road.

"A-Alastor?" You immediately jumped up. Switching the knife from one clammy hand to other and hiding it behind your back. Now free hand, whipped your nose and cheeks, unknowingly to you - leaving red streaks across your face.

"What has my darling doe crying?" He quickly approached the fence when he picked up on your sniffling.

"Its fine, Alastor. Just had quarrel with my mother." You tried to laugh it off.

"A bloody one, as I see." He eyed you, reaching for your cheek. You tried to step away, but his warm touch was so inviting.

"Show me your hands, love." he said. He wasn't asking.

Swallowing thickly you brought both hands in front of you. Feeling like child in trouble. Trembling, and both bloody by now.

"We were having family dinner. And my father was reminiscing on the previous ball. And asked if I fancied any men there-" Alastor eyed you sharply for a second, unknowingly to you as you kept on rambling:

"-and I said that there was a man that I have had eyes for such long time, that the other men at the ball didn't even interest me. And he asked who. I said it's you. And he said that I should look elsewhere. I stood my ground and told him I love you. And he disapproved. Then mother said I should listen to him. Then she was screaming, saying I should stop seeing you. I got angry. She grabbed me. Tried to pull my hair and I... I just -I just pulled a knife at her... And then... And now I'm here..." You ranted so quickly that now you were out of breath.

With gentle chuckle, Alastor reached for your hand that was holding the knife, his ever seeing eyes, noticing the cuts on your other palm. He slowly frapped your fingers alongside his around the hilt of the butter knife and pulled both of your hands across the fence.

"When in dire straits, slice the sinew to halt movement," he murmured, gently drawing the knife across his chest. "Stab and pivot to temporarily cease motion," he directed, gesturing towards the center of his chest.

"You're wicked, Alastor..." You mumbled looking up at him.

"And you should never shed your blood. Though I am touched by your eagerness in defending your convictions concerning me, I would prefer not to witness your blood spilled, my love."

"Even if blood is such a pretty colour on you." He continued, his eyes flickering across your face. Standing up on the first wooden beam of the fence, he now stood way taller than you. Grabbing your chin he tilted your face one way, then the other.

"Since you say I'm wicked-" he gave you a cheeky smile,

"I might be afraid that your parents are correct. You should stay away from me." He looked away from you and across the field behind you.

"But I love you, Alastor..." You whispered so quietly, afraid that he might not have heard you.

"You have brought a knife in bloody hands tonight. What an odd way of confessing one's love." He bent his head closer to your face.

"What a lovely thing you are." His voice suddenly sounded sultry. It was enough for you to stand on your tippy toes and press your lips against his.

You could feel his smile against your lips. One of his hands sneaking to hold the back of your neck and pulling you closer. When that was not enough, in swift motion his legs swung over the fence and he was right in front of you. His lips never leaving yours.

It felt so right to kiss him. To kiss him felt like finally quelling an obsession. Just to feel the painful withdrawal as soon as his lips traveled to your neck to leave love bites there. Love bites that bloomed the same way as the blood splatters on your light summer dress.

His hands traveled down your back, the butter knife still in his hand. Both of you knew that no one would come down this road at this hour, but there was urgency in your actions. Desperation, almost. Your hands traveled to the front of his shirt, to get rid of the bow tie and open couple of buttons.

"The next move shan't be quite gentlemanly of me, my doe.." he was breathing hard and put the hilt of the knife in his mouth. His tongue briefly tasted your blood on it. Alastor's hands deftly gathered the skirt part of your dress and pushed you against the fence. Then raising the fabric around your hips and bunching it to the side, he grabbed the knife and pinned your dress to the fence.

"Alastor..." Your breath caught in your throat as your lower half was exposed to the cold nights air.

"Too much?" He asked, now stepping closer as his hands worked on his belt.

He clearly did intend to fuck you here. In empty field. Against a fence. In middle of the night.

"No, just perfect, you're perfect..." you breathed, hands looping around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

"Lovely." He whispered and kissed you. His hand reaching down between your legs.

"Ah..." You moaned at the first contact.

"Needy little thing you are..." Alastor sighed against your lips, feeling the wetness between your legs.

It was the first time someone else's hands were touching you down there, besides your own. Feeling was not entirely new, but the anticipation was almost killing you. Your hand around Alastor's neck tightened, pulling him down, so you could hide your face in his shoulder. Breath heavy against his neck.

His fingers deftly slid through your slit.

"How.. many...?" Alastor implied, trying to shift his face away and look at you, making him pull his hand slightly away and his fingers circling back to your clit.

"Ah.." you gasped, not hearing his question and just trying to hide your face again.

"Sweetheart..." Alastor's hand slid from your cunt and instead dug his fingers in - right where your thigh met your pussy. This finally got your attention and your head shot up to look at him. You could almost swear that you could see your own debauched image reflecting in his glasses. He tilted his head down at you, and your reflection was gone and his warm eyes were staring right into your soul.

"How many men you have sle-" before he could ask the question you were shaking your head.

"None. No one." You said. "None has touched me this way," you looked down at his hand between your legs. His pointer finger that was closest to your pussy, slowly slid through your slit once more. Your head fell back and you stared at the sky. Stars were slowly starting to appear in the night sky.

"... except myself." You swallowed. Your head feeling empty of any coherent thought. Alastor's mouth fell open slightly:

"Say the word, and I'll stop, my doe..." He leaned down to your exposed neck, and gently run his nose up and down your pulse point.

Your hand shot down and grabbed his wrist:

"I want you and you alone."

His smile against your neck was almost infectious.

"Well, then... To rephrase..." He planted slow, open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, his free hand pulling your dress down your shoulder. He moved his lips against your ear, as if to tell you something that no one else could ever hear:

"...How many of your own fingers have you taken?" you could hear his wicked smile in his voice. And you could feel his hand moving between your legs. His middle finger slowly, almost feather lightly, circled your clit and slid down to your opening. Your breath hitched:

"A-Alastor..."

When you didn't provide him the answer, he quickly pulled his hand out of your underwear and grabbed your hand putting it up between both of you. He pressed his palm against yours and looked at your hands. You did the same. Both of you could see how his fingers shined in the moonlight from your wetness coating them.

"Tell me."

"One."

"How far?"

You were staring at your pressed together hands. He was looking straight at you, watching how your eyes showed the realization of how much bigger his hands were and how longer his fingers were.

"Second knuckle..." You whispered and your eyes met his, over the frames if his glasses.

"Oh, my little doe... I will give you so much more than that..." He chuckled and looked at your hands as his fingers interlinked with yours.

"When I kneel before you, you shall receive all I offer. Diligently." He let go of your hand and took off his glasses.

"Understood?"

You nodded. For such a gentleman, he definitely had such a filthy mouth. You'll soon learn it both ways.

"Hold these for me, will you?" He innocently asked and put his glasses on you, quite lower so you could stare over the round frames. Before you could say anything else, he was on his knees in the dewy grass, both of his hands sliding up your bare legs. His lips gently leaving kisses on your hips as he dragged your panties down your legs. You couldn't look away from him. His soft lips moving from one hip, across your stomach to the other side. His fingers running between your folds, time to time coming up to circle your clit and then tease your entrance by dipping in a fingertip.

"Mark me..." you breathed out as one of your hands slid to his hair.

"That will hurt." He looked up at you.

"You won't hurt me. I trust you, Al..." You said through a moan.

"...where...?" He quietly inquired.

God, please, everywhere.

"Here..." you gently tapped your hip. Alastor smiled, leaned closer, pressed his lips to the top of your hand and then gently bit your fingertip.

"This shall mean you're mine, my love, I hope you are preparing for the consequences that it ensues." He said against your skin as you pulled your hand away.

"I was yours as soon as our eyes locked when I saw you riding horses with the hunters all those years ago..." You moaned as his fingers circled your clit, as if he was encouraging you to finish your though. Next second, you felt his teeth sink into your skin and his middle finger plunging into you.

"Alastor! Ah.." both of your hands flew to his hair, as your hips jerked against his hand.

"Shhh.." Alastor smiled against the blooming love bite. His eyes then locked on how you were taking his finger.

"Good girl." His smiled and looked up at you. His other hand joining to circle your clit.

"Oh Lord..." You moaned. He playfully rolled his eyes at you and leaned his temple against your hip.

"Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well." He praised, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He twisted his finger and you let out a high pitch keen.

"Look at me." He straighted a little. Your eyes locked with his. Opening his mouth, he stuck his tongue out. Your eyes grew big, and a flash of warmth traveled down from your chest to your legs. Your pussy involuntary clamping down on his finger. And then his mouth was on you. As soon as his tongue got the first taste of you, his eyes fell shut and he moaned against you, sending vibrations straight through you.

"Ahh...ha...." You moaned loudly, both hands moving to his hair and pulling it. He lapped at your pussy as if he was a starving man. He sucked on your clit and then you felt a second finger stretching you open.

"Please.... Just don't stop..." You moaned, your hips jerking against his mouth. His fingers picked up the speed and your breathing did the same.

"I think I'm going to..." Your hold on his hair grew tighter and you were starting to push his mouth harder against your weeping cunt. Alastor grunted, his hand that was constantly squeezing your ass traveled down to his crotch and palmed himself. His pants growing too tight.

Alastor curled his fingers forward and sucked hard on your clit. With a loud cry you came on his fingers and tongue. You yourself could never reach such intense peak. Your toes curled, your knees almost wishing to pull together. You pressed Alastor's head closer to your dripping core, at the moment careless if he could breathe or not.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckkk..." Your eyes rolled back into your skull. For a moment you felt weightless, your hands falling away from his hair, to hold onto to the fence beams that you were leaning against.

Flatly dragging his tongue from your twitching hole up your slit to the clit, he placed chaste kiss on your mound. Alastor leaned back and looked up at you.

When you had gathered at least some wits about you, you looked down at him. His chin and lips were glistening from your cum.

"You taste sweet." He gave you a wink and licked his lips.

"Alastor..." You whispered his name and in swift motion crossed your hands and pulled the dress over your head. Leaving it hanging by the knife. Alastor was caught off guard and sat back, his hands slowly starting to unbutton his vest and then his shirt.

Was Alastor intending to fuck you against the fence or where you intending to ride him in the dewy grass?

In two quick steps you were in front of him and straddling his hips. Your lips immediately seeking out his and hands helping him to unbutton his shirt faster. With a groan he pulled away and grabbing your hand dragged it down his chest to the front of his pants. Unzipping his pants you dipped your hand in his boxers.

"Fuck..." He moaned, his eyes rolling back. You wrapped your hand around his cock and gently freed him from the confines of his pants.

"How is that going to fit...?" You blurted out when you looked down at him and gave him two long strokes.

"... perfectly..." He hissed through his teeth and threw his head back when your thumb swiped across his dripping tip. You switched your hands, and raised now free hand up to your face. Alastor looked at you through lidded eyes. Gently you licked your finger, tasting him on your skin. Seeing you do that, Alastor's hips jerked up into your fist and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Lover." He gritted through clenched teeth. His hands coming to hold your hips. You only smiled at your ability to drive him as insane and he was driving you. You slid your hand down to his base and gently squeezed.

"Cheeky little thing..." Alastor opened his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss by your neck. It was slow but messy. Tongues twisting, saliva smearing against both of your lips.

You got up on your knees and wrapped your hands around Alastor's neck. However, he grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his cock alongside his own.

"Now, now." He smiled against your lips. "You gotta learn how to take it. Put. It. In." Alastor whispered absolute filth against your lips and moved your hand so that his cock dragged through your soaked folds.

With a shaky breath you dragged his cock through your folds once more. Pausing on your clit and moaning against Alastor's lips.

"Yes... Take your pleasure..." He whispered.

Then moving his cock down, you pushed it's tip against your entrance. And then with a hissfrom your mouth, your hips were flush with his. The unknown feeling between your legs made you bite Alastor's lip. He groaned in your mouth, but didn't pull away if both of you felt the tangy taste of blood.

Alastor was patient with you, and let you decide when and how to move. But once your hips started to twitch against his, Alastor ground hips up into yours. His warm hands moved up to your back and shoulder blades to pull you closer. Your own hands tangled themselves in his dark hair and scratched down his back. By now your moans were echoing the same as the hounds of the hunters.

"Harder.. Al... Please..." You moaned against his cheek, as your hips moved up and down. Your desperate cunt twitching around his cock and making Alastor moan in your ear.

Next moment you were on your back, your legs on his shoulders as he leaned over you. Your eyes locked with his. Both of you as mirrored image to each other. Hair disheveled, foreheads sweaty, short rapid breaths. And then he was fucking you as if this is the last night out here with stars. As if the coming morning you won't stop by the coffee shop where he gets his morning dose of caffeine.

The way his cock so deliciously dragged against your walls - you had nothing in this world to compare it to. Leaking tip of his cock was carving your cunt out with every push back in, and each drag of it made you clench around him. As if to say, that you need him back in and not let him pull out.

You grabbed Alastor's cheeks:

"I'm in love with you...." He said first, as if he had read your thoughts on what you were about to say.

"I love you." You smiled back and pulled him in for a kiss that was broken by your moan as Alastor gave harsh thrust, hitting your cervix. Making you lose your breath momentarily.

"More.. please..." You begged, your cunt twitching around him.

"Fuck..." Alastor moaned, his hips taking on harsher and faster movements. You could swear that you felt him in your guts. Your hand traveled down your stomach and pressed on the outline of his cock. He smirked at you, as if saying that no other cock will ever be this deep, no one ever will pleasure you the same way.

"You're mine..." He groaned. Letting your legs off his shoulders, he pulled your lower lip with his thumb until your mouth opened and he could slide his finger in. Your tongue latched around his digit and sucked hard, making him stutter in his movements as he wondered how to use that mouth of yours in other ways.

With press on your tongue, your mouth opened once more, Alastor pulled his finger out and dived in to kiss you. Your tongues meeting before your lips could. You moaned in his eager mouth as his wet thumb now circled your clit. Your hips raising to meet his thrusts. When your wandering hands were enough for him, he grabbed them and pinned both of them above your head.

"Keep them there..." He said breathlessly and leaned back lifting your hips with his.

He was fucking you like drowning animal would fight for air. And the pleasure was rapidly pulling both of you under. The way your cunt clenched around him more and more frequently, was a sign that you were close. As if not being able to stand not touching him, your hand raised to rest on his stomach, feeling the lean muscles flexing there.

Not wanting to soil you on your first sexual encounter, Alastor was ready to pull out when your legs wrapping around his hips locked him in place. Sliding his hands up your legs and then sides, he leaned over you.

Your orgasm approached you unknowingly, as such intense feeling you have never felt before.

"I got you. Just let go." Alastor said against your chest as his forehead rested against your collarbone. With a moan that stole all your breath - you came. Alastor's name tumbling out of your lips like the sweetest honey. Your body arched off the ground and pressed against Alastor. Not knowing what to do with your hands as all nerve ends felt like going haywire, you opt to grab Alastor's hips and, as if your legs being locked around him wasn't enough, you pulled him against you.

Corrupting such sweet doe as yourself felt so rewarding. He could almost feel your orgasm on his tongue. Perhaps that was just taste of your cunt that kept lingering on his tongue. His own hips stuttered and with deep groan he came deep inside you, his teeth latching on the side of your left breast, leaving another love bite to remind you of this night of debaucheries.

For a moment neither of you moved. Still ongoing gunfires of hunters and howls of hounds could be heard echoing, meaning that hunt was still on. And you could return home without your father seeing you here.

Alastor wrapped one hand around your back and gently laid you back on ground.

"I must beg your pardon. A lady such as yourself ought never to be deflowered in such a place for the first time." He said quietly against your soft breasts that were still raising and falling in short breaths.

"Oh, hush. I enjoyed myself very much so." You took a deep breath trying to steady your breathing. Alastor looked at you and you smiled at him. Gently running your hands through his hair in order to tame it.

Steadying himself on his hands, Alastor pulled out and couldn't help but to stare at your cunt that was already leaking his cum. Catching him staring, ought to teas him a little bit. Bending your legs you spread them open. Gaining Alastor's attention, you trailed one hand down your body and dipped your fingertips in your folds. Shyly looking to the side you spread your folds, making more cum leak out. Alastor was watching your hand like it was a prey.

"Darling-" Alastor warned as his lashes fluttered. He leaned to kiss your knee instead. Fighting so hard not to take your overstimulated body the second time.

"We should talk in the morning." Alastor got up with a sigh, tucked himself away and walked over to the fence to retrieve your dress.

You quietly got dressed, not questioning anything. You weren't sure what we're you to say in such moment. While you were getting dressed you couldn't help but stare as Alastor was putting on his shirt. His skin on the back scratched by your nails. Or how the fingers you had cut had smeared blood all over his body.

"Shall I escort you home?" Alastor turned to you.

"No. It's late, we both should be getting home and to bed. And besides, I know this field like back of my hand." You shook your head.

"Alright." Alastor tilted his head to the side and smiled. He walked up to you and gently took off his glasses from you.

"Not a scratch. Good girl." He praised you, leaning down to your eye level. Your cheeks immediately flushed red and you quickly pressed your lips against his.

As he watched you walk back home, you couldn't help the smile that was on your lips. The faithful butter knife clutched carefully in your hands, will be neatly stored in your vanity as a reminder.

Meanwhile Alastor was sitting on the fence, watching you walk away, with skip in your step. Once you were far enough, he hauled himself over the fance, back on the road. What you had not seen at the very beginning, was that Alastor had come with knive of his own. Quite menacing butcher knife, that he had wedged in the nearby tree.

You were almost home. You had just ducked through the fence and walked quietly across the yard when, one, so much differently sounding gunshot, made you turn back around and stare at the field where you had come from....

-----------

Part 2?

#alastor fanfiction #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fic #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut

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voxsremotec0ck · 11 months ago

Note

Yo! Got a silly multi prompt for ya! Reader and the hazbin/helluva are on a date, they've been dating for a long while now, when BAM! Reader is on the floor! ON ONE KNEE! There has been no discussion of marriage so this is completely out of left field!

Anyway, it turns out that reader had just accidentally dropped a piece of jewellery on the floor and knelt down to grab it.

If you want it to be extra spicy then maybe it WAS a ring that reader ended up holding, just one that slipped off of readers own finger instead of being a standard engagement ring.

𝐎𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐞.ᐟ

⋆｡ﾟAccidentally dropping your ring during an anniversary dinner leads to some misunderstandings ﾟ｡⋆

— Vox, Loona, Lucifer, Lute

Vox watches you get on one knee with panic and all but flings himself out of his chair to kneel in front of you and pull out a ring box. He was not about to let you beat him to the punch, especially after he took so long to pick out the perfect ring. But when he realized that you were only picking up your napkin he blushes and tries to play it off like this was his plan the entire time.

Loona immediately freezes as you drop down to the ground. She’s watching you like a hawk, sweating underneath her fur and hoping that her dad didn’t follow you guys this time. When you sit back down and show her the fork you dropped, she instantly relaxes. No way is she ready to commit to something like marriage, so why was she a little disappointed?

Lucifer gasps so loud it makes you pause in picking up your ring. His eyes shine with tears and he looks so genuinely excited that you decided, fuck it, and proposed to him with your ring. You hope he never finds out you didn’t actually plan on proposing because it would crush him, but marrying him actually sounds wonderful.

Lute watches you kneel down with confusion, her heart beating a little faster at the idea that you could be proposing to her. But she notices the laces on your shoe are untied and deflates a little. Honestly she kinda liked the idea of marrying you, so much so that she might just have to go ring shopping later. Maybe Adam can help her.

This has been in my drafts for a while uhhhhh😅

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #hazbin vox x reader #vox #vox x reader #helluva loona #hb loona #loona x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute #lute x reader #ᯤ answers

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destinyisastar · 4 months ago

Note

HII are ur requests open? I love ur writing style sm that I actually wanted to requesthswiwjwo it's my first time,, Can I request a platonic Alastor x toddler!daughter where she was his biological daughter when he was alive but she died first due to being murdered(due to some enemies of alastor that were jealous of him)? And like, after many decades, he and Charlie visits heaven right?? What if he spots his little girl, but she doesn't recognize him because of his demon form ? 🥹

Dearly Departed

Thank you for my third ever request!!! I'm sorry this took a while the election lowkey made me have a breakdown. I'm very happy with how this turned out!

Alastor x Toddler Daughter Reader (PLATONIC!!!)

Summary: A look into the past life with Alastor and his beloved little girl that he holds most dear. However, when her life is taken far too soon, Alastor is given the chance to see her once more.

Warning!!: child death

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

Another day has just begun, the sun was shining its morning hue, birds were flapping their wings as they gather breakfast for their chicks, quite like how Alastor was doing right now.

The sizzling of the bacon is music to his ears as he looks towards the stairs. “Sweetheart?!” Alastor yells, “Come down and get your breakfast!” He hears the pitter patter of feet running on the floorboards. “Don’t run in the house my dear!” He calls once more.

Eventually you make it down the stairs, “Sorry papa!” You hold your hair ribbon in your hand as Alastor looks down at you with your hair in disarray.

“What on earth have you done to your hair!?” He turns the knob off the stove and bends down to your level, “Now, now this won’t do!” Alastor shakes his head, “Come along now darling.” He picks you up and goes back to your room upstairs.

Alastor sets you down on your chair by the vanity, grabbing your brush and tending to your hair.

“This papa! I want this on my hair!” You show him your red hair ribbon, “Please!!”.

“I’ll see what I can do!”

You giggle as he kisses your cheek.

“Almost done now cher!” Alastor puts the final touch on your hair by placing the ribbon he recently bought you. Lately all you been doing is requesting that he put that ribbon on you. “I love, love, love this ribbon papa! I want to wear it forever and ever!” you had said to him when he showed you.

Alastor smooths down your hair one final time, “There you are! All done! Can’t having you look all messy now, can we?” He laughs.

“Thank you, papa!” You jump off the chair and race down the stairs.

“No, no my dear what have I said about running in the house? You could fall!”

“Whoops sorry papa!” You stand at the end of the stairs, “I’m just happy today!” Alastor picks you up again.

“And why is that my dear?” He walks towards the dining table and places you in your seat.

“My teacher says we get to go on a trip today!” Alastor finishes up the meal he was cooking, for you, two pancakes with a slice of bacon and side of scrambled eggs for him… just a cup of coffee.

“Really now, why was I not made aware of this?” He places the plate in front of you.

You shovel some of the eggs into your mouth, “I did-“

“Don’t talk with your mouth full darling.” He hands you a napkin as you drink your water.

“I did tell you papa! And you signed the papers on Tuesday remember!?”

Ah yes, he does remember signing something for you. “Where is your teacher taking you again my child?”

You take the slice of bacon in you hand, “She said that we are going to be looking at the.. the flowers and rocks for our science class in forest where that big”, You take a bite out of the bacon, “bridge is.”

“My that sounds like it will be a lovely trip.”

“Mhmmm!” You finish up your meal, “Thank you for the food papa!”

Your books were already ready at the door by the table since Alastor knows you might forget them, “Wash your hands my dear!”

“Okay!”

Alastor laughs slightly as he sees you scurry off to the sink while holding your books in his hands.

“All done papa!” You reach for his hand.

“Are you sure you have everything you need my dear?”

“Mhmm! Gots everything!” You tell him while jumping slightly on your tip toes.

Alastor takes your hand as you both walk to his vehicle, placing you in your seat then taking his.

“Now my dear, when you get to that forest, I want you to stay by your teachers side no matter what.” Alastor looks at you in rearview mirror. “Don’t you go anywhere without telling anyone.”

“I won’t!” You say while kicking your feet.

Alastor parks the car by the school, steps out and picking you up placing you in his arms.

“Look, look there’s my teacher! Oh! Look papa, there’s Jamie! Hi Jamie!!” You wave your hand to your friend.

“Yes, yes I do see them my dear.” You start to wiggle in his arms. “But you do remember what we talked about in the car, hmmmm?”

“Yes I remember papa.. I will stay by the teacher and….. I’ll…”

“You will tell someone where you are going.”

“Yes! I’ll tell someone where I am going!”

“Good girl.” He places you down in front of the school doors.” I love you my darling.” He kisses your forehead.

“Love you too papa!!” You hug him one final time, “Bye papa!” You wave him goodbye as you catch up with your friends.

“Goodbye my darling! I’ll be here to pick you up as soon as school is out!

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

As Alastor drives away he fails to notice two men watching him closely or more importantly watching his daughter.

“That’s him, right?” asks the one with blonde hair.

The one next to him breaths out smoke, “Yeah that’s the fucker.”

“Shouldn’t we follow him?”

“No.” The man taps his cigar on the window.

“Why the hell not?”

“We are going after his brat.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill him instead?” The tattered blonde man asks, sounding a bit worried.

“Nah, that fucker has the audacity to ruin our business, our fucking fun and for what? That shitty radio host needs to pay.”

“But that’s a kid..”

The smoker looks at him, “Are you a pussy Johnny? Too afraid to kill a fucking kid?”

“I-I’m not.”

“Then man the fuck up. The boss wants this done.”

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

“Okay children! Remember stay close to me and pay close attention!” Mrs. Amber, your teacher, says. “Today will be picking up a few rocks to bring back to our class for our geology work. You may pick a few by the lake but don’t go into the water. As for the flowers you may gather some of every color.” Mrs. Amber passes some plastic bags, “You can put the rocks you find into the bag.”

“Okay everyone you may gather your rocks and flowers now! Just stay where I can see you and come back here when I call you!”

“Yes ma’am!” a chorus of children say.

You begin your pick of the rocks, picking out the most shiny, exotic ones. “Oooo this one can be for papa.” You say as you pick out a red one, placing it in the bag. You manage to gather a total of nine rocks. “Now for flowers!” You see your classmates’ carrying loads of flowers.

You turn your head to see if there are any flowers left on the ground as soon as your about to reach for one a girl, Vicky Valentine, snatches it away from you.

“Hey! I was going to grab that one!”

“HA well you snooze you lose Y/n!” She sneers at you and walks away.

You huff and look around once more and there you spot it, in the darker part of the forest there with its orange color reminding you of a sunset. “So pretty…” But the flower is nowhere near where your teacher can see you. “It’ll just be a second.” You promise yourself. “I’ll grab it and go…”

“Tell someone where you’re going darling…” You hear your papa’s voice in your head.

“Hmmmmmm…. I’ll only be a second!” you tell yourself as you walk over to the flower.

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

“Get ready Johnny… and stop your fucking shaking.”

The forest seemed to get darker, almost as if it was closing in on the little girl.

She picked up the flower.

“NOW!”

Johnny grabbed the girl as she screamed.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” The smoker smacks the girl in her face. “Hurry up!”

The girl begins to punch but they mean nothing. “SHUT HER UP DAMNIT!” The orange flower falls.

Johnny grabs the girl by her neck pushing her to the ground, tightening his grip. She tries to push him away, scratching his face.

He feels it before he hears it. The snap. The crack. The lifeless look in the girl’s eyes.

He never bothered to learn the girl’s name.

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

“WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER!? You were supposed to be watching her!!”

“I know Mr. Hartfelt I’m sorry b-but once we heard the scream I g-gathered all the children away I-I’m so s-sorry!” Mrs. Amber cries out.

“Mr. Hartfelt please calm down!” The principle tries to tell him.

“NO! My daughter isn’t here… SO DON’T YOU DARE TRY TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!” He starts to breathe heavily. Alastor runs back to his car, passing all the parents holding their children, driving over the speed limit heading to the forest where they left you, how… how dare they leave you behind.

He feels the tears going down his face but quickly wipes them away.

Alastor swerves as he makes it to the trail of the darkening forest. He races out of the car calling out your name.

“Where are you?!”

“Darling! Please answer me!”

“Y/N?!”

There in the shadow of darkness lays a body.

He treads there carefully almost as if his body was moving on its own.

An orange flower lays near your hand, a bag of rocks in your other, your eyes are shot open. Fear. There is, no, there was fear in your eyes.

His legs sink down to the ground, almost consuming him.

“Darling….?” His hands caress your face. “No…no… no” Alastor pulls your body to his, wrapping his arms around you, cradling the body of his beloved daughter, rocking her as if she still were a baby. “My daughter….” Tears began to fall down to your face.

Your life taken too soon, his darling daughter, his little girl, the light to his darkness was now gone forever.

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

PRESENT DAY

“Why did we have to bring Alastor with us?”

Vaggie walks beside Charlie as they begin their tread towards heaven’s gates.

“Well, he’s a big part of the reason why we have the hotel in the first place! And I believe he is here for… moral support!”

Alastor pats Vaggie’s head “Easy now! It’s not like I’m here for anyone’s souls! Ha-ha!!” Vaggie immediately pulls his hand away from here and sneers.

“You better not cause any trouble here!”

“Vaggie calm down please!”

“I am simply here for Charlie’s sake! Besides I might not ever get to see heaven so I might as well indulge myself for the time begin! Ha-ha”

As Saint Peter begins to search for Charlie’s name Alastor’s mind begins to wander.

Truthfully Alastor could care less about supporting the princess at this very moment. While the hotel might be his little passion project for now, he came here for one reason only. His daughter. The memory of his little girl flashes in his mind. Always happy. Always so lively. He wonders if he’ll get to see her here today. Of course, there’s no doubt in his mind that his daughter is in heaven. There would have been no reason for her to be in hell. But he still checked anyways. In the end, however he was glad he didn’t find her. She deserves to be in heaven, but she should have never been taken from him far too soon.

The little angel finally opens the gates alongside two others who appeared to be seraphims. Everything truly is brighter here as they say.

While the little seraphim speaks to Charlie, Alastor scans around the area with a stretched grin…… and there she was.

There.

Right there was a little girl with a red ribbon tied to her hair. His little girl, Y/n…

He watches as she laughs with the other small angels as they play in the grassy area surrounded by different colored flowers.

Alastor walks over to them carefully….why do his legs feel shaky? He hears Vaggie call out to him but doesn’t bother turning around.

“Hello there! My, my you seem to be having quite the afternoon here!” He tells the little angels with a wide grin. The two next to you fly off but you stay there staring at him with a smile.

“Yes! I’m having fun!!”

“How delightful my child!” He says as he pats your head.

You giggle, “Do you want one mister?” you say handing him a bright orange flower.

Mister? Do you not recognize him? “Darling… its me.”

You tilt your head, “Huh? I don’t think I know you mister….” You look at his face and set your sights on the top of his head or rather his ears. “Hey! You’re just like me!” you say while pointing at his ears and touching yours.

Alastor’s smiles softens, “I do believe we are similar….would you like to feel them darling?”

“Yes! Yes! Please!!” You jump up from your spot on the ground, excitement running through your body.

Alastor chuckles, “Alright then,” he picks you up and you immediately touch his ears.

“There sooo fluffly!!” you giggle once more.

Alastor hums and brings you closer to him, wanting to give you a hug…. If you do not recognize him… then this what he’ll settle for….

He hears his name called once more and gives a huff.

“Alastor! What are you doing?! Put that angel down and get over here!! Now!!” Vaggie yells, startling the other angels passing by.

Charlie pats her lovers’ shoulder and walks to Alastor.

“Alastor we should be heading to our rest area now!” Charlie grins slightly, hoping not to panic the little angel that Alastor is holding.

Your hands come to a stop, “You… have the same name as my papa…”

Charlie’s eyes widen.

Alastor holds you tighter, “I suppose I do…” his radio voice turned off.

“I miss him a lot… I hope he’s not mad at me for not following his rules…” You begin to sniffle.

“He’s not mad at you…. he could never be mad at you.” He feels his legs collapse to the ground.

“I don’t know where he is…..” You sob holding on to Alastor.

“He’s right here… I’m right here…”

You look up at the deer man in front of you, tilting your head… “Papa?”

Alastor closes his eyes for a second then reopens them to look down at you, you with your bright red ribbon, with your tearful gaze.

“Y/n… yes its me.”

“Papa!!” You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug, sobbing. “I’m sorry…. so s-s-sorry! I didn’t mean t-to leave I s-swear… I’m sorry!!”

He pulls you closer, “Don’t be sorry don’t ever be sorry.”

Charlie watches from behind, hands wiping her tears away as Vaggie stands in shock.

He knows that he may never see you again after today… but just knowing that your safe and nothing bad can every happen to you is all that he needs to hear. No matter how much he wants you to stay with him. He knows that this moment is only a moment. He’ll have to go back down to hell… he’ll have to be separated from you once more. Maybe he’ll change his mind about redemption, but that of course will not work on him. So for this moment and this moment only will he hold his daughter tighter than ever before and dream that he stays here with her forevermore.

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

I hope you liked this, almost started tearing up towards the end! Thank you so much for requesting again hopefully this is what you meant!

Requests are open !!!

Wordcount: 2609

destinyisastar 2024

#alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angst #alastor angst #alastor the radio demon #alastor x daughter reader #x reader #hazbin hotel child reader #hazbin hotel x child reader #hazbin hotel platonic #platonic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

Text

Down Home 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The world's most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Because of this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖

It’s a slow day. Every day is slow out in Tumble Down. The township’s name tells the whole story. Everything there is in decline. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when the people weren’t tiny and forgotten in the hubbub of the bigger world. Since the mines closed and the canning factory was outsourced, it feels even smaller.

Smaller isn’t so bad. It’s simpler. You all know each other’s names and faces. You say hi and how are you and do what needs to be done. Simple is, simple as.

You here there isn’t much to do in most small towns. Not for fun or for work. You’re one of the lucky ones. You got a job down at the diner in your sophomore year. It helped pay for your daddy’s new engine and since then, it keeps you all afloat in the rising waters of disparity as they close in on Tumble Down.

You hum to the old radio that sits on the shelf you make sure to dust. The speakers crackle from time to time and the signal gets wonky in storm season, but the music’s never bad. It’s the classic stuff that always played in your mother’s kitchen.

You wipe down another table. Not because it needs it, just because it’s something to do. The day has been long and listless. Even the breakfast rush was lower than usual.

Darnell, the cook, whistles along from the back. Everyone knows he isn’t as mean as he looks. He just likes his space.

As you go back to the counter and lean on it, staring at the ticking clock, a roar cuts through the distance. You blink and look up, narrowing your eyes at the dusty country road outside. Wind rustles through the tall wheat in the field opposite and the noise rumbles closer and closer.

A man pulls in a motorbike. He’s going so fast that he has to circle the gravel lot before he can slow down. It’s not Lenny and his prized Harley but another man on a more modern-looking mount. Not far behind, another motorcycle zips through and the riders straddle their bikes as the survey the restaurant.

You narrow your eyes. You probably need glasses but you make do. The last time you got your eyes checked, you didn’t have enough for the frames.

The one man wears blue and red, an odd helmet on his head. Not a helmet at all but a sort of mask. The other man has dark hair to his chin and a beard to match. He’s all in black but his left arm shines with gold ripples. Not a sleeve, an arm, made of metal.

“Oh my lord,” you murmur in shock, “Darnell!” You holler over your shoulder, “you’re not gonna believe this.” You turn to the window as he pokes his head around, “not sure I do myself. Tell me my eyes aren’t lyin’.”

He looks above your head, an easy task for the mammoth cook. He hums and swirls around his spatula. “Thems those boys on the news. The one that was in the old war. Grandad’s battle.”

“I’m not going crazy with boredom?” You bubble.

He snorts. It’s as close to a laugh as you get from him. You spin back and hurry around the counter to grab a pair of menus. Still, you don’t want to seem too eager. You put down the menus and fiddle with a napkin holder instead.

The bell over the door jingles and swipe up the menus and turn. You really can’t believe it’s them. Yet, as Captain America removes his cowl, you’re certain. They look just like they do on the TV. Even with your sight, you can tell.

“Hello, fellas, how are you doin’ today?”

The dark-haired one, the Winter Soldier, glances at the other, his cheek dimpling, “well... we’re... uh...”

“We’re doing great,” Steve Rogers answers brightly. “Starving. You guys serve bacon? My buddy’s dying for some.”

“Um, yes, sirs, yes. Can I sit ya down?” You ask, hugging the menus closer.

“Please,” the Captain accepts as the other man stays silent and pensive, his eyes wandering down to the coffee stain on your apron.

“Just here,” you sweep away and wave them on with you. You stop beside the nicest booth and lay down a menu on each side, “have a seat.”

They do just as you bid. The blond puts his cowl on the table and unhooks the shield from his back to lay on the far end of the seat. He smooths back the sweaty strands of hair as his companion stretches his metal fingers. You sway nervously by the table, twitching as you remind yourself how to do your job.

“Well, can I get ya started with coffee? You look beat from the road.” You beam with the smile Mr. Welk says could outshine the sun.

“Not just the road,” the dark-haired one mutters as he rolls his shoulder. The one that connects to his real arm. “I’ll take one, please.”

“Can I get an orange juice, please,” the Captain asks.

“Course ya can. I’ll be right back. You have a look at the specials and give it a think,” you bounce and spin around.

You go to pour the orange juice and a cup of black coffee. Darnell lingers by the window. He only ever really appears to put a plate up but he watches the new arrivals.

You bring their drinks and step back, clasping your hands behind you.

“Did ya need cream or sugar for your coffee, sir?” You ask.

“Black’s fine,” he assures.

“No need for the sirs. Steve, Bucky,” Captain America insists, “we’re off duty.”

“Right, sorry about that, ssss...Steve,” you correct yourself. “You need some more time?”

“Think I’m decided,” Bucky intones, “what about you?”

“Set,” Steve confirms, “I’ll have the sunny side up with toast and sausage. Can I get some fruit on the side as well, please?”

He hands over the menu and you take it as you hold your smile. Your cheeks ache. Not because you have to force it but because you can’t stop. This is the most exciting thing to happen in Tumble Down ever. If Darnell wasn’t there, no one would believe you.

“Overeasy, bacon, extra bacon too, and some french toast, and uh... home fries.” Bucky offers up the second menu, “please and thank you.”

“Alrighty,” you preen, “I’ll put your order in.”

“Got it,” Darnell growls over the empty diner.

“He’s got good hearing,” you giggle nervously as you look between the men. “Ummmm, sorry, I’ll leave ya be.”

“You’re not bothering,” Steve assures. “I can see you’re dying to ask.”

He gives a gentle smile.

“Nah, oh, gosh. I’m sure ya get it all the time. I don’t wanna be one of those,” you put your hands up. “Really, you all look like you could use the peace and quiet.”

“Well, actually, I’ve been stuck with this meathead for days,” Bucky scoffs, “so please, I’d love to hear someone else’s voice.”

You laugh again. They’re funnier than you expect. They always look so serious on the TV.

“What... what are y’all doing here in Tumble Down? It’s a bit far from... anywhere.” You ask sheepishly.

“Tumble Down? Is that what it’s called?” Steve scratches his neck above his stained collar. “Well, we couldn’t get a signal so we’ve just been riding through. Saw the sign down the way and figured we’d get a bite.”

“He’s lying. He was falling asleep on his bike,” Bucky teases.

“Sure,” Steve shakes his head. “Only ‘cause I’m tired of you.”

You giggle again, “I thought y’all were friends.”

“Friends, partners, cursed with each other, have your pick,” Bucky snorts.

“He’s playing,” Steve says. “Look, we’re boring. Despite what you think. We’re a couple of old men bickering with each other. What about you? What about Tumble Down?”

“Ah, nothing really, sir. Steve,” you squeeze the menus tight at the edges. “Nothing going on since the coal law and that. Everyone’s all but run out. All but us.”

“Just you? Your family?” Steve wonders.

“Jesus, Steve, nosy much?” Bucky says over the brim of his mug.

“Sorry. He’s right. Like I said. Crotchety old man. I talk to the pigeons.”

You laugh again, “oh my, you are a hoot!” You slap your thigh emphatically, “I’m still my ma and pa. It’s just the three of us. They need help with the animals and that.”

“Animals?” Steve wonders, his posture shifting towards you.

“Chickens, cows. They got a farm. Was my grandpa’s. And his ma kept it going after he didn’t come home from... well, you’d know more about that time than me, I think.” You give a forlorn look to the floor.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about your grandfather. Great grandfather,” he corrects himself.

“Lotta good men gone,” Bucky mulls grimly.

“Yeah, my great granny said as much. I wouldn’t know though, but I heard the stories,” you dare to look at them again. “Sorry to bring up the bad memories.”

“Nah,” Bucky waves you off casually. “I got this nifty arm outta it.”

“And I got a shield so, you know, not all losses,” Steve chuckles.

“I s’pose,” you agree. “I’m gonna check on that food for ya. You good with your coffee?”

Bucky raises the mug, “delicious.”

You nod and turn with a swish of your skirt. You go up to the window and look over the ledge. “How’s it going, Darnell?”

“Going. I’m happy it ain’t Raylene here. She’s got a mouth on her, don’t she? Them sort don’t deserve that trouble,” he tisks.

“They’re nice. And Raylene is too. She’s just... Raylene,” you say, “can I help with anything?”

“I don’t wanna be rude but I’m tired of tellin’ ya to stay outta my kitchen. You know the grill likes to spit,” he shakes his head. “You go, I’ll let ya know when it’s ready.”

“Alright,” you back away and turn back.

Steve and Bucky lean over the table, their voices low as they chat. As you move around behind the counter, they both sit up and the former clears his throat. You smile as you take the cloth from your apron pocket and wipe the already clean counter.

As the radio buzzes, you hum without thinking. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s smoky voice mingles with the emotion plucked through electric strings. Your dad’s a big fan. He has old tapes with concerts on them and even went to one himself.

The bell rings and you nearly jump out of your shoes. You turn and scoop up the plates as you thank Darnell. He grumbles that he’s going out to have a smoke; his code for having a Tootsie Pop by the backdoor.

You bring the meals over to the table and set them down before the men. Their gazes make you sweat. It’s all a little more intense with no one else there.

“Thank you,” Steve says and Bucky echoes him.

“Not at all. Anything else? Water? Ketchup?”

“It all looks great as is,” Steve says, “you got a nice voice.”

“Oh, really? Ha, I was just humming out of tune. Sorry if I was too loud.”

“Not at all,” Bucky picks up his fork as he leans forward. He tilts his head. “You know this one?”

“Sure do. It’s Fleetwood Mac,” you answer. “One my all times.”

He grins and nods as he looks at Steve. Steve watches you with a smile of his own.

“Do you sing?” He asks.

“Me? Only in my shower or to the chickens. They usually hide in the henhouse then.” You tinkle with laughter.

“Ah,” Steve nods.

“But if... if ya really wanna suffer, I could try it,” you smile, “but uh, you know, Stevie Nicks, she’s one of a kind.”

“I’ve had worse,” Steve says.

You look between him and Bucky. You chew your lip and think. You follow the song as you try to recognise which verse it is. You squint and perk up as you catch your place.

“You just let me know when you’ve had enough,” you say before you start. Not only can you tell your pa that you met the super soldiers, you can tell him you sang for them. It’ll be a nice bit of excitement for the dinner table.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #mcu #captain america #down home #winter soldier #avengers

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