honeyedrecs

[honeyedrecs]

he's right where he wants to be!

[honeyedrecs]

my baby 🥺

[honeyedrecs]

i never thought something i hate doing could be seen as attractive by the opposite sex! this is heartwarming, op, as it made me feel better about my own body! ❤️❤️ thank you for this lovely scenario ✨

Jumping into a pair of jeans in front of the LADS Men: [suggestive/ fluff] 👖

❄️Zayne:

He’d taken notice to your changing figure, lately. Thighs fuller, hips plush and your posterior—filling out everything a bit more snug. Zayne isn’t one to be distracted, but when you asked for his opinion on a new pair of jeans, he sat attentively at the edge of the bed and waited. You strolled out of the bathroom casually in plain panties and a tee shirt, he swallowed at the subtle jiggle of your thighs. “Okay, don’t hold back, I want to know if I need to return these,” you said, stepping into both legs. Zayne’s eyes travelled from your feet to your face, nodding politely, “I’m sure they’ll look fine, love.” You hum and begin to tug the jeans up. At first they slide with ease over your calves, but once you reach your hips, you began to wiggle.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his posture, sitting stiff as a soldier. Then you started jumping, grunting with annoyance when the pants were caught under the shelf of your ass. Zayne’s heart rate spiked, a cool sweat started to bloom on the back of his neck. Finally you ripped the zipper up and clasped the button, sighing with relief. You spun around, meeting a very flustered, blushing Zayne. “Are you okay?,” you giggled closing the distance, standing between his knees. He trailed his hands slowly over your curves, lingering around your hips and bum. For a moment, his hold rested on your waist before he could manage to speak, “yes—I just think we should leave before I lose anymore composure.”

🐦‍⬛Sylus:

You were both getting ready for a date at a wildlife park, so casual dress made the most sense. Sylus went with a matching linen set with a tank underneath the button down shirt and sunglasses to protect his sensitive eyes. Rummaging through a few options, you finally decided on jeans and a crop top. Standing in front of the floor length mirror, you slid the shirt over your head, “what do you think, Sy?” He looked up from where he sat in the corner of the walk-in closet, “cute, simple. I like it.” His words were short, but not cold, the silver haired man was simply trying to stay focused. Sylus always admired your body, and it was evident the new training protocols from the Hunter’s Association made some changes to your physique. You were growing in some areas, had a few new stretch marks too—but he only wanted to sink his teeth in or trace his tongue over every inch of flesh.

His stare became more intense when you attempted to pull the jeans up your thighs. There were parts of your body jiggling and bouncing that weren’t just a few weeks ago. “Ugh, this training has made me so—,” “you look stunning, Sweetie,” he interrupted, suddenly behind you. His lips grazed your ear and fingers curled into the waistline, giving the jeans a final tug over your ass. “If I hear you complain about this beautiful body again,” he popped your butt with a sharp spank, “there will be consequences.”

🍎Caleb:

Caleb had a rare weekend off from the Fleet, so you decided on a visit to the model plane museum. You also wanted to coordinate outfits. He wore wide cut jeans and a cut off tank, showcasing his perfect biceps. Your clothes were laid out on the bed, as you knelt over to grab them–only wearing a bra and panties, Caleb walked in. “Oh–! S-sorry,” he stuttered, cheeks already a deep pink. A mixture of a scoff and laugh broke from your lips, “Caleb, it’s fine. You’re my boyfriend y’know.” His throat bobbed with a dry swallow, “right.”The two of you started working out together recently, focusing on weight training. After a few months, he took notice of not only your muscles, but the fullness of your thighs and ass.

“How many leg days are you hitting, Pips?,” he asked, eyes dipping to low, lip caught in his teeth. You began pulling an old pair of jeans over your calves, “only 3 days, like you told me. Why?” Caleb fisted the sheets so hard his knuckles whitened. You could just barely stretch the fabric over your curves, one wrong move and he swore the seams would tear. You paid him no mind, bouncing and wiggling them into place. “Okay, I’m good to go—Caleb?!,” you let out a startled gasp, running to the bedside where he sat. A thin trickle of blood ran from under his nose. He hadn’t even noticed, but your frantic voice brought him out of his trance. “What? What’s wrong?,” “your nose! It’s bleeding!” He let out a breathy chuckle, “oh that—must be allergies.” Then his hands settled on your waist, “or maybe it’s this figure of yours, drivin’ me insane.” Your cheeks flushed, standing immediately to change. Caleb caught your wrist, “Honey, this isn’t the first time you’ve given me a nosebleed, trust me I’d tell you.” You weren’t sure how to respond, he snickered again and ruffled your hair. “Let’s get going before I rip these off, though.”

🐚Rafayel:

Today, you were assisting Rafayel at the studio, organizing several paintings for his next art exhibition. Since you would be moving a lot of large pieces, you wanted to wear something you wouldn’t mind getting a bit dingy. It was also getting close to your cycle, meaning your body was a little puffier than usual. After one of Rafayel’s lengthy baths, he walked into the bedroom, waist loosely wrapped with a towel. “Thomas is already blowing up my phone,” he whined, tossing his cell on the bed. You pulled a light camisole over your shoulders, then reached for a pair of jeans off the dresser. Rafayel watched the simple ritual of you getting dressed like it was his own private show. His sunset eyes traced over every curve, dimple and crease of your body.

A quiet huff blew from your lips as you prepared to muscle the pants up. They squeezed around your thighs, barely sliding over the swell of your ass. A few small jumps and wiggles and they finally sat in place. Just as you reached for the zipper, a pair of hands overlapped your own. “Cutie…allow me,” Rafayel purred, pulling you flush against his waist. His slender fingers fastened the zipper and button with ease, but he kept his hands on your hips, digging into the plush beneath denim. Your breath hitched, meeting his hungry gaze over your shoulder, “we should really get going…” “Pft, Thomas can wait, I want to stare at this work of art a little longer.”

⭐️Xavier:

Tara had been hounding you and Xavier for an overdue hang out at her place. When your busy schedules finally aligned, you set a date, looking forward to an evening with them both. The weekend rolled around and you were glad the theme was comfy and casual. You opted for one of his hoodies and a pair of jeans. He was reclined in one of his beanbag chairs, watching you pace through the bedroom, hoodie just touching the tops of your knees. Since dating Xavier, you gained a bit of “happy” or “boyfriend” weight. You didn’t mind, though; if anything, your new curves made you more confident. Xavier was just as pleased, the king of naps always looked forward to lying on your thighs, tummy or bum.

When you began bunny hopping around the room to get your pants on, however, he was wide awake. The oversized hoodie did no justice, every jump and wiggle made the fabric ride up, exposing your soft curves. No matter how much you shimmied, the jeans remained stuck—leaving you spilling over the waistline. Still determined, you weren’t about to give up, you just needed a little more strength. “Ugh, Xavie—help,” you whined. The man was no use, brain short circuiting, pupils blown wide. “Xavier?,” he blinked rapidly, finally standing to assist you. His greyish blue eyes, lingered for a while, entranced with the way the denim fabric stretched across your hips. Curling his fingers into the belt loops, he gave them a firm tug. “Are you sure it’s just going to be us there?,” he asked, lips brushing your neck, hands lowering to your ass. “Yes, Xavie, I swear.” He hummed quietly, leaving a chaste kiss behind your ear, “good, because after that I really want to keep you to myself.”

*~*~*~*

Writer’s note: hope you enjoyed reading! Please reblog if you liked it. More LADS Fics on my profile. :)

[honeyedrecs]

OP, THANK YOU FOR THIS GORGEOUS SERIES WITH NERD!ZAYNE!!!! holy smokes, i need to devour everything you write asap! it's so juicy and yummy and jdosbxishxibd

i love your reader so much, she has an amazing personality that you don't see often in aus ❤️

i love the way you describe and build zayne too! he's a pathetic little virgin, but definitely not dumb and at reader's mercy 👅😩

the sylus and rafayel cameo made my knees weak! idk if you have fics written for these versions of them, but i WOULD die to read something with tatted + dealer!sy or rich boy!raf

i can't wait to see more of this series! especially the last installment 😩😩🔥🔥🔥

i love you, op 😭

NERD PROJECT . . . 1k special

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ nerd!zayne x playgirl!reader

— why do young people go to college? to party and fuck, obviously. at least that’s your holy gospel. alcohol tastes better than regrets and dicks are easier than exams. the “sluthouse” group chat is on fire 24/7, girls keeping track of hookups like fantasy football stats. everyone’s on a mission to score points for banging specific types. but the crown jewel? a 5000-point prize for whoever deflowers the campus nerd: zayne.

he's not just any nerd—he’s built like a greek god in bad jeans, with a mind sharp enough to tear through astrophysics but a mouth that rarely says a word outside equations.

he rejects advances like he’s dodging viruses. a challenge? absolutely. a risk? maybe.

a guaranteed win? if you play it right.

taglist (closed) ⋮ playlist ⋮ m.list

comment to be added in the taglist • add age somewhere in your bio cuz no minors plz • expect one chapter per week • playlist link takes you to sportify

. . . likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated !

EP 001 ♡ WRONG EQUATION, RIGHT CURVES

nerd!zayne is the kind of man who breathes physics and exhales rejection. he’s buttoned-up, glasses low on his nose, and looks at your cleavage like it’s an unsolvable math problem. you try once. twice. thrice. he dodges like you’re contagious.

“i don’t associate with distractions,” he says, adjusting his specs, eyes glued to his notes. nerd!zayne studies under the tree at exactly 4PM. drinks sugary matcha lattes. goes to tutoring sessions he could teach better himself. and he doesn’t party.

cue Sylus—your on-and-off fuckbuddy and the campus’s chaos dealer. he’s the reason zayne even shows up at the party. two shots later and nerd!zayne is on the dancefloor like he just discovered gravity doesn't apply to his hips. he’s flustered, swaying, stuttering.

you pull him into the bathroom.

EP 002 ♡ GLORY HOLE

the rumor’s been going around for months—somewhere near the men's restroom in the bio building, there's a glory hole. a stress-relief station. anonymous, filthy, and legendary.

nerd!zayne isn't the type to give in to base desires... right?

but the humiliation of what happened in the bathroom has stuck with him. he’s not sleeping. he’s frustrated. and one day, against all logical processes, he finds himself walking toward that very wall. he doesn’t know the girl on the other side is you. you and the sluthouse girls take turns there, finding easier targets and racking up points.

but when it’s zayne’s turn, he’s shy, unsure. his hips twitch as your tongue starts working, and the moment he moans—it clicks. you know that sound. he begs under his breath, one hand fisting the wall. he’s trying so hard to keep it together.

you make sure he doesn’t.

EP 003 ♡ NERD PROJECT

the gods have a sense of humor. or maybe it’s karma. you’re paired up with zayne for the biggest group project of the semester.

nerd!zayne looks at you like you’re the apocalypse in fishnets. first day of research? he’s speedwalking down the hall, trying to escape. but the professor won’t let him switch. he ends up working with you in the library, sitting two meters away, flinching when you lean forward to show your notes (or your cleavage).

you’re relentless. you're touchy, suggestive, teasing—because 5000 points is 5000 points. but zayne breaks first. he kisses you like he’s trying to shut you up and bends you over between rows of unread textbooks.

nerd!zayne fucks like he calculates—hard, precise, and deeply focused.

you expected virgin fumbling. instead, you’re clawing at the bookshelves as he fucks you dumb. he doesn't just take you—he studies you. and he makes damn sure you never underestimate nerds again.

EP 004 ♡ BAD TIMING

nerd!zayne is addicted now. every free moment, you’re sneaking into his dorm, getting railed on equations and chemistry homework. this time, it's his bed—your legs over his shoulders, your moans bouncing off the walls.

but in your fog of lust, neither of you remembers one crucial detail: his roommate, Greyson.

the door creaks open mid-thrust. cue traumatized Greyson standing there, mouth agape, holding a plastic bag of noodles and witnessing you bounce on his best friend’s cock like it’s your job.

you freeze. zayne’s sweating and panting. Greyson is blinking like he’s buffering. you offer him to join. he doesn’t say no.

EP 005 ♡ RECALCULATING DESIRE

the nerd wants more—and he's starting to act like it.

nerd!zayne starts showing up outside your classes, waiting around awkwardly like he accidentally ended up there. he’s not even trying to deny it anymore. he needs you—physically—but now something else is burning in his brain. it’s not just lust, it’s obsession. he’s studying you like a subject: what makes you tick, what makes you moan, what makes you beg.

you call it cock-drunk behavior. but zayne? he's recalculating. and this time, you’re the one getting overwhelmed when he ties you up with his physics lab cords and whispers formulas against your neck while making you cum over and over.

the nerd’s evolving—and it’s scary hot.

EP 006 ♡ DATA LEAK

someone from the “sluthouse” gc leaks the scoreboard—and your name is next to zayne’s. drama explodes.

everyone knows you’ve been fucking the nerd—and worse, they know you haven’t gotten your 5000 points yet. zayne sees the leaked messages. sees how the whole thing started as a game. and for a moment, you think it’s over.

but nerd!zayne just smiles, slowly, darkly. “if i’m worth that many points, maybe i should make you work harder.”

and now, he’s turning the tables. he's not letting you leave his dorm without earning every bit of that 5000. a punishment scene follows—spanking, orgasm denial, sensory overload, and a whole lot of moaning his name like you forgot who started this game in the first place.

EP 007 ♡ NERD RAGE

zayne finds you with sylus again, and this time, he doesn’t take it lightly. maybe it wasn’t anything serious, but seeing you laughing on sylus’s lap lights a fire inside zayne.

he’s not a possessive guy by nature—but he’s been rewired now. he grabs you when no one's looking, dragging you into the nearest classroom, shoving your panties aside and fucking you like he's angry at you and for you.

“you wanna act like a slut? fine. but you’re my slut now.”

he marks you—physically. leaves handprints on your thighs, bites on your shoulders, hickeys on your chest. zayne doesn’t want to be a one-time challenge anymore. he wants ownership.

EP 008 ♡ GROUP CHAT LOCKDOWN

the sluthouse girls are freaking out—zayne’s turned the entire game upside down. the girls in the gc are panicking because you’re off the grid. your name hasn’t updated. there’s a rumor you’re dating him now.

but truth? nerd!zayne has literally hacked your devices, cut you off from the chat, and is keeping you all to himself. it’s a forced little “vacation”—you, locked up in his room over the weekend.

he brings you food, water, and dick. over and over. you stop thinking about points, parties, or anyone else.

he’s overstimulating you like he’s trying to erase the memory of everyone who came before him. and it’s working.

© 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ; don't copy translate or feed to ai

[honeyedrecs]

LaDs: Maybe I miss you… maybe.

~ this is my first time doing an SMAU! I don’t really plan on doing many of these but I was playing around with the app to see if I could capture the LIs the same way they text us in game… I think I did it very vaguely which is why I def won’t be doing these often lmaoo

~ thank you so much @bronzealchemy for the help! I appreciate you a whole ton because I was going crazy trying to figure out how to make the SMAUs because I wanted to incorporate one into a Sylus imagine I’m currently working on! You’re an angel 😩💕

Xavier

Zayne

Rafayel

Sylus

Caleb

[honeyedrecs]

op, i know you said you won't focus on smaus, but just know they're amazing and fucking hot! 🔥 i love the way you portray the guys (in your other smau too)❤️❤️

can't wait for the second part to this hehe

LaDs: Great, now I’m wet

Part 1: Sylus, Zayne, Caleb | Part 2: Rafayel, Xavier

~ again, this is only my second time doing an SMAU so I apologize if the boys are OOC at all! But this is the SMAU smut/crack idea I was talking about yesterday so hehe I hope it’s enjoyable!

Sylus

Zayne

Caleb

[honeyedrecs]

MARLEEEN, THIS IS GOLD

too often had he tried shutting out inappropriate thoughts about you as he lay in the single bed of his prefect’s dorm, yet failed miserably every single time. gave in to temptation. to lust.

YES TOMMY GIVE IN 🔥🔥

you were the only person making him weak, making him feel. 

*insert freaky sonic gif* 👅👅👅

“are you really this desperate for a punishment?” tom said through gritted teeth, voice laced with something closer to disappointment rather than anger.

nuh huh, YOU ARE 🤤

a soft smile crept onto your lips. your hand slowly reached out—and when he didn’t draw back, your thumb gently caressed along his cheekbone. you studied his expression closely—he tensed under your touch but did nothing to stop you.

this is so UGH 😩 beautiful description ✨

“if i remember correctly,” you started, the corner of your mouth twisting into a slight smirk, “you wrote about how ‘tommy’ would sound if i said it. or how badly you wanted to be called my good boy.”

nahhh, i love this !reader so muchhh

he sighed in defeat, finally relaxing his muscles as he let himself sink further into the mattress. “i have never done this before.”

virgin! tommy >>>>>

there was no haste behind your movements, only slow and gentle strokes that made his hips buck into your hand and his head drop back into his pillow as he tried to focus on anything but what was actually happening—he feared he was going to embarrass himself in no time if he’d looked at you just once.

THIS DESCRIPTION IS EVERYTHING AAAAA

“fuck— amazing. so fucking good.” tom stuttered, and as did his hips—chasing every bit of pleasure you offered him. his tip was flushed in a deep pink colour, pulsing and drooling with need, coating your skin as you dragged your palm over his tip.

I NEED HIM BAD.

“please,”  he begged, darkened brown eyes watching you now. “i can’t— can’t hold it any longer. please.”

such a good boy 🤤👅🥺

tom’s brain was a hazy mess, and it took more strength than he had to answer in a full sentence. “you. on top of— argh— me. making me feel good, just like— this.”

mushy brain! tom is a cutie ✨ deserves to cum ✨

“please, i can’t— please let me cum,” he gasped, cock twitching inside of you as his fingertips dug into your skin. “please let me cum inside of you, i have been good— so— good.”

well, if you ask so nicely... go ahead 🔥🔥

ilysm mar ❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖

Heya, been LOVING your soft!Tom recently but honestly big fan of your writing in general– it's so deliciously intense! Can I request an inexperienced!sub!Tom as he shows vulnerability for the first time to the reader as he lets her take his v card pls? Thanks <3

oneshots | ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ꜱᴜʙ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆˙ 𑁤 TAME FOR YOU.

SUMMARY: Tom Riddle did everything to protect his peace. He was a mystery, and for most people unreachable. But, when he forgot one of his most priced possessions in the library, and you happened to find and read it—your view of him changed drastically.

WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT. submissive!Tom. virgin!Tom. lots of begging, handjob, edging, praise, unprotected p in v, creampie, sweet ending.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I think I have accumulated over 20h in that document, and safe to say I am tired. I tried everything, but there is something wrong with this and I cannot quite explain what it is. Thank you for requesting, anon, and I hope it’s still okay. <33

wordcount: 3,7k

Tom Riddle wasn’t tame.

Tom Riddle didn’t beg.

Tom Riddle didn’t obey.

Those were the three simple rules he lived by.

Nobody dared speak up against him, let alone question his authority—especially people close to him. They knew better.

Maybe that’s what intrigued you most about him—because, in a way, you saw right through that façade he put up around others. You were almost certain there was more to him than what he let on from the outside. Coming to Hogwarts years back, no family, no friends, no knowledge of magic whatsoever—to now being head boy, prefect, and top student of the year.

And a whole group of wealthy Slytherins following his every command without even thinking twice.

Tom Riddle was confident in every step he took. Flawless. Perfect to everyone around him. Cold and dismissive to the countless girls interested in him.

Still, you didn’t miss the faintest of sparks behind his chocolate brown eyes whenever you outscored him in exams. The way his lips curled into the tiniest smirk as you walked past him with the graded paper in your hand.

He knew you were the only one willing to challenge him. Speak up against him, debate him during classes. Question him.

You weren’t quite like others, and as desperate as he was to turn you to him, he was just as intrigued by your feistiness. 

Too often had he tried shutting out inappropriate thoughts about you as he lay in the single bed of his prefect’s dorm, yet failed miserably every single time. Gave in to temptation. To lust.

You were the only person making him weak, making him feel. 

And you weren’t even aware of it.

────

Your intuition had rarely been wrong. Behind the lines of his indifference and restraint, there had to be something softer—something no one had yet reached.

Perhaps, it was possible to tame Tom Riddle.

At least for one night. One time, just for you.

And the opportunity presented itself on a silver plate just a few weeks later. No unnecessary sulking, no blowing your cover.

No, instead he blew his cover—without even realising it.

While his ambition and endurance had gotten him where he was—top of the class every year, prefect, school representative—it came with its many responsibilities. 

And just so, you happened to come across one of his few mistakes.

He’d left the library in a hurry, packing up and storming out without once looking back—leaving behind the book you’d watched him carefully hide on a chair beneath the table.

Quickly checking whether anyone was watching, you got up from your seat and hurried to get the item he’d forgotten to take with him. Without even taking a closer look at it, you stuffed it into your bag and continued your study session as though nothing had happened.

And just as you had thought—within the next five minutes, he came back to get what he’d left behind.

However, the book was gone from where he’d left it.

Tom turned around, scanning the library for other students—and of course, the only person who’d have seen him hide his prized possession—was you.

He debated whether to confront you about it—but, in the end, decided against it. If you hadn’t taken it, he’d have to lie to you. And Tom Riddle was a terrible liar—when it came to you, that was.

So, instead of confronting you, he turned to leave again without sparing you so much as a glance.

Good.

────

Minutes after he disappeared behind the tall, wooden entrance for a second time that hour, you hastily shoved your study material in your bag and hurried past students and professors towards your dorm.

The second the door locked behind you, you scrambled through the contents of your bag and pulled an old black leather book out of it. The edges were dented, and it had a very distinct smell—one you’d expect to find in an old, long-abandoned basement.

When you turned the book—imprinted in golden letters—it spelled his name. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

His diary.

Initially, you felt horrible for even opening and reading it. It was private, and reminded you of the time you stole your sister’s diary just to read about her secret crush—and this, well, felt somewhat the same.

────

It was just a few days later that week on Friday when your conscience threatened to eat you alive—and so, just a few minutes shy of midnight, you gently tugged your silk duvet to the side and slipped into your shoes. You grabbed the diary from where it was lying on your desk, wrapped your robes over your pyjama, and finally exited your dormitory.

A cool breeze brushed past you as you headed towards the Slytherin boys’ dormitories, and for a moment, you paused. It could have waited until the morning, you supposed—but you were already risking detention by sneaking around the castle past curfew, and if someone caught you on the way back without even having handed back the diary, it would’ve all been for nothing.

So, with a slight frown on your face, you kept on walking.

The prefects’ dormitories were all the way at the back, and luckily for you, it did say the name of the student outside.

You hesitated before knocking, and your mind sped through all possible scenarios. Clearly, you’d overstepped boundaries—and judging by his expression when he realised it was gone that day in the library, he surely wouldn’t take it lightly.

Though, even after having knocked twice, there was no answer—and it was only a minute later when you realised as to why.

Prefect’s duties.

You’d already turned to leave when you bumped into something that was most definitely not the cold surface of the stone walls but rather the warm and firm chest of—you looked up—Tom Riddle.

For a moment he seemed to be as distraught as you at the unexpected encounter—but just a mere second later, his mask was back in place, and he took two steps backwards.

With a lifted brow, he studied your outfit—baby pink pyjamas and your house’s robes wrapped around your shoulders. Not quite what he expected to see when he ended his shift, yet he wasn’t exactly complaining.

Not until he remembered that he was, in fact, still a prefect.

“What are you doing outside your dormitories at this late hour?” Tom asked you, a rather unamused expression etching into his features.

“I have something of yours that you might want back,” you answered, trying to sound as confident as you could before revealing the diary to him.

The sight of his diary in your hands hit him like a ton of bricks.

His diary. In your hands.

Tom was quick to snatch it from you. “Where did you get it from?”

Well, there was that. It was too late to come up with a lie, so the truth had to do.

“You left it behind in the library. A few days ago.”

A condescending sneer formed on his face, and at this point you were sure you’d be sitting in detention for the rest of the school year.

“And you did not think of returning it to me any sooner?” He spat, fingers curling tighter around the spine.

“I am sorry, Tom. I know I should have,” you apologized, but he merely scoffed. It stayed silent for a minute that seemed to stretch on eternally until his eyes returned to yours, softened now.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Did you read it?”

You nodded softly.

“Return to your dormitory. It’s late.” He walked past you and pushed down the handle of his own.

The cold bit at your skin, and yet you felt like there was more to say. That you weren’t done—not yet.

“Shouldn’t— shouldn’t you give me detention?”

He huffed a laugh. “Go.”

You did nothing as such—instead, you shook your head and took a few steps towards him. “It’s okay, you know. What you wrote.”

His eyes locked onto yours the very second you finished the sentence, and for just a moment you could feel the want radiating off him.

“Are you really this desperate for a punishment?” Tom said through gritted teeth, voice laced with something closer to disappointment rather than anger.

“No,” you murmured, finally closing the gap between the both of you.” “I want to apologize. It wasn’t the right thing to do.”

“I can always obliviate you. There is nothing more to be discussed between us.”

A soft smile crept onto your lips. Your hand slowly reached out—and when he didn’t draw back, your thumb gently caressed along his cheekbone. You studied his expression closely—he tensed under your touch but did nothing to stop you.

And so, you leaned in slowly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I am so sorry, Tom.”

He didn’t find his voice to reply—not soon enough. You smiled at him once more and finally retreated, figuring you’d give him space. But before you could even make the corner, hurried steps echoed behind you, and soon enough you were spun around and pushed up against the rough surface of the wall behind you, the gasp that was about to spill from your lips silenced with a fierce kiss.

When you parted, you placed a small peck on his jaw before your eyes returned to his. “Not quite what you’ve written about, is it?”

Tom shook his head. Countless nights had he sat at his desk and noted down pieces of his restless mind. How he envisioned you, how slick and warm you’d feel around him—and especially how good you’d look on top of him.

His diary was his mind laid bare. He’d made himself vulnerable by writing these thoughts down, even though they were never intended to be read by anyone other than him.

But you have read them. All of them.

“If I remember correctly,” you started, the corner of your mouth twisting into a slight smirk, “you wrote about how ‘Tommy’ would sound if I said it. Or how badly you wanted to be called my good boy.”

His lips curled into a slight smirk at your words, and for a moment he didn’t say anything. Let it sink in. Let you realise you had just given him precisely that.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, but before you could escape his intense gaze, his hand closed around your wrist. “Come with me.”

Tom led you back towards his dorm through the dark corridor, shutting and locking the door with one swift flick of his wand after you entered.

The second the lock clicked, his back hit the wall with a sharp thud—your lips moving against his before he could even register what was happening.

And he surely wasn’t going to complain now.

“Want me to show you then,” you murmured, trailing kisses along his jaw, “how I’d do what you’ve been writing about?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Please.”

Please.

You weren’t sure whether you had heard it right—but the look, the softness in his eyes—told you all you needed to know. You’d just heard him say please for the first time since you met him at the sorting ceremony years back.

And this simple word shouldn’t by any means have had an effect on you—but hell, you’d be a fool to say it didn’t. There was something beautiful about hearing it come from him. Raw and unhinged—matching the fire behind his eyes as he stared down at you.

You gently tugged the emerald-green tie from his neck, fingers slowly working the buttons on his plain white shirt open before you peeled it from his body—revealing his toned chest.

"You trust me, yes?" you asked him again, and when he hummed in agreement, your fingers found the zipper of his trousers, working them open. Never once did your eyes leave his, and when they slid down his legs, alongside his underwear, you pressed your lips to his—silencing the gasp that was about to spill from his lips.

"Sit down on the bed and lean back. Can you do that for me?" you whispered against his lips, gently pushing him towards the bed. You tossed aside your robes in the meanwhile and kicked off your shoes.

When he had gotten himself comfortable, you joined him and settled between his thighs—and for the first time that night, your gaze dropped to his cock. Carefully, you reached out and wrapped your hand around the thick base, offering him a single, light stroke. 

His reaction was nothing less than mesmerizing. You watched as his eyes fluttered closed, his hands fisting at the bedsheets, muscles tensing under your feather-light touch.

Still, you sensed there was something off. His shoulders stiffened more than they should have, jaw clenched tight. You pulled back and straightened yourself. “What’s wrong? If you changed your mind, that’s all right, I can—“

“Go on.” Tom interrupted you, meeting your eyes. “Don’t stop.”

“Not until you tell me what’s bothering you first.”

He sighed in defeat, finally relaxing his muscles as he let himself sink further into the mattress. “I have never done this before.”

Oh.

For what must have been the first time, you saw vulnerability behind his eyes when he looked up at you. No longer the cold and controlled prefect you knew. And you should have known. Fucking hell, you should have smelled it from a mile away. Of course he hadn’t.

“That’s not a problem at all. I’ll take it slow and make you feel good, is that okay?”

Of everything you could have said, Tom hadn’t expected you to be understanding. Why? He didn’t know. You didn’t accuse him, didn’t blame him. Your voice brought the kind of comfort he had always craved, yet never received.

“Yes,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s fine.”

“Just relax for me.” You offered a reassuring smile before your hand returned to his achingly hard cock, wrapping more firmly around him as you set a slow rhythm.

There was no haste behind your movements, only slow and gentle strokes that made his hips buck into your hand and his head drop back into his pillow as he tried to focus on anything but what was actually happening—he feared he was going to embarrass himself in no time if he’d looked at you just once.

“How am I making you feel?” You purred, but it wasn’t a question you needed an answer to—you could tell. Especially when he didn’t even seem to register your question in the first place. You squeezed tighter around him warningly, and he groaned.

“Fuck— amazing. So fucking good.” Tom stuttered, and as did his hips—chasing every bit of pleasure you offered him. His tip was flushed in a deep pink colour, pulsing and drooling with need, coating your skin as you dragged your palm over his tip.

“Oh my— Merlin, please,” he whimpered in a broken voice, knuckles turning white at how tightly he was gripping the cotton bedsheets, shivering slightly.

Noted.

“Extra sensitive— right here, am I correct?” You said tauntingly, thumb gently brushing over the crown of his tip, collecting a bead of precum. His eyes shot open at the contact, hissing as his abdominal muscles tensed, having to hold himself back from stopping you with the last bits of strength he had left.

You repeated the movement. “Shhh. Be a good boy and stay still for me, hm?” 

You only saw him nod from the corner of your eyes before your head dipped, and you wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around the sensitive skin—and Tom swore he saw heaven’s gates opening right before his eyes right then. Never had he felt anything close to this, never had any sensation completely taken over his mind and shredded his sanity to irrecoverable pieces—but this did it. Your lips around him, feeling the comforting warmth of your mouth as you worked him closer and closer to that relief he’d been so desperate for ever since you bumped into him earlier that evening.

And you noticed it too. How his cock pulsed and twitched under your tight grip, how the salty taste of precum flooded your senses.

“Please,”  he begged, darkened brown eyes watching you now. “I can’t— can’t hold it any longer. Please.”

You felt his muscles straining beneath you, and you knew he was close, so, so close. And yet—you pulled away before he could spill inside of your mouth, leaving him right on the edge of his climax. He looked up at you dazedly when you straightened yourself, leaving his aching cock to rest against his lower abdomen, pulsing with need in the absence of your touch.

“W-what are you doing?” He rasped, eyes following your form as you slid off the edge of the bed, tossing your pyjama to the floor and stepping out of your panties.

“Did you think I’d let you cum that easily?” You smiled, swinging one leg over his so you sat astride him. “No no. You are going to cum inside me—when I say so. Understood?”

He gave a short nod, even though he wasn’t actually paying attention. You were sitting on top of him. Bare. Your arousal already soaking his skin beneath you. It made his mind spin more than he’d ever admit—and God, you were so much more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. Gorgeous curves he would need more than a lifetime to explore and worship properly. Soft skin pressing against his own.

Fuck.

You’d long taken the hint. Reaching out, you closed your hand over his, and guided him towards your waist. “You can touch. Touch me, Tommy. Be my good boy and touch what belongs to you.”

Tom gently squeezed at your waist, hips, thighs. Carefully, as though you were made of porcelain. As though he was scared to break you—as if he couldn’t believe this was real.

“Ready?” You asked him, dragging your hips against his—eliciting another soft groan from his lips.

“Yes, please.” He replied softly. It’s all you needed to hear before you lifted yourself slightly, positioning his tip at your entrance—and, with one slow movement, sank down on his length.

You bit back a moan at the delicious stretch on your walls, planting your hands on his chest to steady yourself once you’d taken all of him. “Look at me. Open your pretty eyes and look at me.”

He did as you said, although painfully so. His jaw was clenched tight, every single muscle in his body wrung tight at the feeling of your warm walls enveloping him. The sensation was overwhelming, to say the least—and he was almost angry with himself that he’d missed out on it for so long.

One of your hands cupped his face, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. “What were you thinking about all those lonely nights you described in your diary? Tell me. Tell me what you imagined me doing to you.”

Tom’s brain was a hazy mess, and it took more strength than he had to answer in a full sentence. “You. On top of— argh— me. Making me feel good, just like— this.”

“Like this?” You repeated, gently rocking your hips against his as you brushed one of his thick brown curls from his forehead. 

His eyes rolled back at the movement, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gasped out a reply. “Yes— God, yes.”

You lifted yourself a few inches, just to sink down on him once more. “Then be good and still for me, is that okay, sweet boy?”

But you didn’t wait for a reply—instead, you rocked your hips against his, gently at first, though quickly increasing your pace. Soon enough, soft and broken groans spilled from his lips, fingers trembling as they held onto your hips. And God, never would you have thought Tom could look any prettier than he already did—but clearly, you were mistaken. His gorgeous brunette hair stuck on his damp forehead, cheeks pink and flushed, trying his best to hold back from cumming too soon.

But as soon as his eyes met yours, begging—no pleading with you—you knew he’d lost the battle.

“Please, I can’t— please let me cum,” he gasped, cock twitching inside of you as his fingertips dug into your skin. “Please let me cum inside of you, I have been good— so— good.”

“Come, Tommy. Give me all of it, and don’t you dare hold back.” You encouraged him, leaning over to press your lips to his.

And so he did. His hips stuttered underneath yours, spilling inside of you with a low growl. Letting himself go for someone—for you—for the first time ever. Showing vulnerability. It felt foreign and strange—but mostly, pleasant. 

Although you hadn’t cum, he left you feeling warm and full—and pleased. More than pleased.

His lips were still quivering when you lifted yourself off his softening length and disappeared into the attached bathroom to retrieve towels for the both of you. With a few gentle rubs, you cleaned the sweat from his forehead and your combined arousal from his lower body—only then taking care of yourself.

After you’d tossed the towels on the bathroom floor, you dressed yourself in your pyjamas again and returned to his side.

His eyes flicked to yours, and instead of expressing satisfaction, they were riddled with guilt. “You haven’t— I would like to—“

“Shhh,” you hushed him gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead before guiding his head into your chest. “You did so well for me—rest now. We have a whole lifetime of opportunities left to catch up on making each other feel good, hm?”

“We do?” He asked, breathing in your scent.

“Yes, Tommy. We do.”

However, only the next morning when he woke up and took you in—still asleep and cuddled into his chest—did he truly believe you. 

also a biiiig thanks to @yuunarii-arii @juliet-017 and @dearmisshoney for helping me with this. I love u guys sm🥺

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | oneshots.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[honeyedrecs]

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH! OMFG IT'S PERFECT IN EVERY WAY 😩 i love the way you write everything, but most of all the way you manage to break my heart oh so beautifully 🥺

ocean memories

synopsis. you and rafayel have lived countless lives, each one making a dent in your blessed bond, growing apart at the end of each life.

pairing. rafayel x fem! reader

warnings. angst, death, mentions of blood, LOTS of crying, betrayal (?), spoilers and/or theories surrounding rafayel's myth cards (abysswalker + god of tides) and overall lore, ooc raf (?), reader is NOT mc, mc will be in the fic and will be nameless

genres. angst, reincarnation (?), romance, SLOW BURN

status. updates twice a month on fridays ! but hopefully i can update once a week

start. 010225

end. ???

a/n. send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist ! also, ty @bakutual bc i remember your rbs from my two-shot raf x priestess!reader inspired this HAHAHAHAH ty 😜❤️‍🔥 also !! i've made a playlist that i'll sometimes update but here it is heh.

chapters.

act one. a god and his priestess

prelude's elegy. | (1) children of the sea, | (2) made to be a reflection of what each needs, | (3) and forever blessed by the sea. | (4) why, then, did thy fall?

I LOOK THROUGH YOUR EYES IN MY DREAMS.

act two. two lemurians

(5) the sea wishes your second life will be longer, | (6) that it will not end tragically like the last. | (7) the sea's wishes were not met, | chapter four.

???

act three. the abysswalkers

chapter one. | chapter two. | chapter three. | chapter four.

???

act four. an art critic, and an artist

we must confess our sins | chapter one. | chapter two. | chapter three. | chapter four.

postlude's ode.

OCEAN MEMORIES, yuansie 2024

[honeyedrecs]

More mr crawling bc he's all I can think of

[honeyedrecs]

"You small... cute!"

[honeyedrecs]

Oh good

[honeyedrecs]

Monitoring

Guys I swear I'm not obsessed with him

[honeyedrecs]

It's time to pack it up Mr, Delulu

[honeyedrecs]

ｍｅ． ｌｉｋｅ． ｙｏｕ．🖤

[honeyedrecs]

spectacular, give me 14 of them!!!! i am a sucker for non-mc isekai fics and this series hits the spot 😩

Soulbound Masterlist

I. Long Awaited Revelry

II. Familiar Stranger

III. Echoes

IV. Unspoken

V. Siren's Song

VI. Mirage

VII. Drift

VIII. High Tide

IX. Anchor

X. Interstice

XI. Soul Tie (sylus ending)

XI. Everlasting Bond (rafayel ending)

[honeyedrecs]

[honeyedrecs]

—Come and love me

Summary: Mr.Crawling has different ways to love you.

Tags: Smut, Praise Kink, Cockwarming, Body Worship, Mutual Mastubation, Female reader, fluff, Spoilers for ENDING 04

Words: 1,8k

MDNI, ADULT CONTENT UNDER CUT

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Mr. Crawling is someone who craves the comfort of human touch, but he’s always considerate of your boundaries. No matter how much he yearns for affection, he puts your comfort first, often suppressing his own desires to ensure you’re at ease.

Still, he can’t help but get a bit whiny when you return after a long day outside. On the days when you ask him to stay home, he becomes lonely and restless, waiting impatiently for you. He often lies on your bed with his head nestled on your pillow, inhaling your scent to soothe himself until he hears your footsteps approaching the front door.

The moment you step inside and praise him for being well-behaved, he lights up completely. Mr. Crawling has a serious praise kink, and it’s evident. Mr. Crawling is practically addicted to your praise; it’s like his own personal drug. The second you open your mouth and let a sweet, honeyed word slip out, he’s already trembling with delight. He reacts instantly, a visible shiver of pleasure rolling through his body, mouth going wide as he drinks in every syllable. It’s not just about the words themselves but the way you say them—soft and genuine, like you really mean it. It makes him feel so loved, so needed.

He can’t hide how badly he wants it, how desperate he is for your approval. Even the smallest bit of praise, like a simple "Good boy," can have him biting his lip, his breath hitching as if you’ve touched him in the most intimate way. The effect is almost comical; his face flushes, and he looks like he’s on cloud nine, squirming slightly like he can’t quite contain himself. He craves it so deeply that he actively seeks it out, doing whatever he can to earn your compliments. Of course he deserves a treat for his good behavior.

The treat he prefers most is one he chose himself. Nothing satisfies him more than when you settle into his lap and cockwarm him, taking him by surprise as you sink down onto his length. The sudden feeling of you enveloping him never fails to draw out a choked gasp, his hips twitching up instinctively as he tries to control himself. He loves this position more than anything—the closeness, the intimacy of it. He holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, his arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging as if you might slip away if he lets go. He’s reluctant to release you unless you explicitly ask him to; he’d keep you there forever if he could.

He savors the way your body fits perfectly against his, the softness of your skin against his cooler touch. He buries his face into your neck, breathing in your scent, his lips grazing your pulse as he shudders at the feeling of your warmth surrounding his cock.

He tries so hard to stay still, knowing you need this quiet moment of comfort, but it’s almost impossible for him. His hips shift ever so slightly, his cock throbbing inside you, and he can’t help the tiny, desperate movements he makes, even if they’re unintentional.

He can’t keep his hands to himself either. His fingers are restless, wandering across your body like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. He takes moments to worship you, pressing his lips to your collarbone, your shoulders, any spot he can reach. His kisses are soft but hungry, lips parting as he drags his tongue over your skin, tasting the salt of your sweat. He lets out a needy, broken moan as his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. He’s inexperienced, a little clumsy with his movements, but the eagerness behind it is undeniable. He’s trying so hard to make you feel good, his breath coming out in hot, ragged pants as he watches your reactions intently.

It’s not always sexual, at least not in the way he intends. Sometimes he just wants to feel you, to savor the heat of your body pressed against his, to revel in the way your warmth spreads through him. He loves the sensation of your skin against his own, the soft give of your flesh under his fingertips. But he can’t help himself; even when he’s just trying to hold you, he ends up teasing you without realizing it. His hips roll up slightly, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your chest. He’s so sensitive, so easily overwhelmed by the feeling of you wrapped around him, that every little movement you make drives him wild.

He’s not practiced or skilled, and it shows in the way he fumbles, his touches uncoordinated but full of raw desire. He pinches your nipples a little too hard, a whimper escaping his lips when he realizes it, but instead of pulling back, he leans in closer, mouthing at the swell of your breast like he’s making up for it. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your hips as he struggles to keep himself from thrusting up into you. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants to savor the moment or chase after more, and it leaves him caught in this desperate, needy place that only you can pull him out of.

When it comes to mutual masturbation, it’s a different kind of intimacy, one that he’s hesitant about at first but quickly grows to crave. He hates touching himself when he’s alone, but with you, it’s different. You’re right there with him, your hand entwined with his, guiding him through the motions. He watches you, excited and breathless, his own hand trembling as he mirrors your movements. There’s something incredibly intimate about the way you both touch yourselves together, a shared vulnerability that makes his heart race.

He loves it when you talk to him through it, whispering sweet nothings, telling him how good he looks, how well he’s doing. It makes the experience bearable—no, more than that—it makes it beautiful. He’s not embarrassed when he’s with you: he’s not self-conscious or insecure. He’s just caught up in the moment, in the way your bodies move together, the way your breath hitches and syncs up with his.

When your hand finds his, coaxing him to stroke himself while you do the same, he whimpers softly, his fingers twitching against your palm. It’s overwhelming for him, the sensation of his own touch combined with the sight of you doing the same. He can’t stop himself from moaning, a needy, broken sound that escapes his lips as he watches you, completely captivated by the sight. "Me like you." You might whisper, and it takes everything in him to comply, the combination of your voice and your gaze making his whole body tremble.

You can tell how much he loves it by the way he leans into you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he touches himself with your guidance, whimpering in between. He’s panting, mouth open, like he’s too lost in the pleasure to look at anything else. The moment you reach out and wrap your hand around his, helping him stroke himself, he lets out a desperate moan, his entire body shivering as he clutches onto you. He’s a mess, but he’s your mess, completely undone by the shared pleasure and the feeling of your touch.

Mr. Crawling can be so eager when it comes to pleasuring you in return, that it borders on frantic. He doesn’t always take his time—sometimes, when he’s overwhelmed with excitement and craving you desperately, all of his usual patience flies out the window. He’ll drop between your legs, pulling you closer with a roughness that’s uncharacteristic for him, but it’s not out of aggression: it’s pure, unfiltered need. His hands are trembling as they grip your thighs, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. He’s already panting, like he can’t believe you’re letting him do this, and it makes him that much more impatient.

He dives in without hesitation, his mouth pressing against you hungrily, almost clumsily, as if he can’t bear to wait a second longer. His tongue flicks out, sloppy and uncoordinated at first, but it’s the urgency behind it that makes it so intoxicating. He’s lapping at you like a man starved, the sounds he makes—soft whimpers and desperate groans—filling the room. He’s inexperienced, but there’s something endearing about the way he tries so hard, so eager to please you even if he’s not entirely sure what he’s doing. He’s guided more by instinct than skill, following your reactions like they’re the only thing that matters.

He keeps glancing up at you, his face excited and yet almost pleading, as if he’s searching for reassurance that he’s doing it right. When he sees your pleasure written across your face, it only spurs him on. He loses himself in it, licking at you with a feverish intensity that makes it clear just how badly he needs this. He doesn’t bother with precision: he’s messy, licking you with broad, hurried strokes, his lips sucking at your clit with a desperate fervor. He moans into you, the vibrations sending little shocks of pleasure through your body, and you can tell he’s getting off on this as much as you are.

His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, like he’s afraid you might pull away. He’s whimpering into you, his tongue moving erratically, like he’s trying everything at once, too caught up in his own excitement to settle into any kind of rhythm. It’s overwhelming for him—the taste of you, the feel of your skin under his hands, the sounds you make when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. He’s panting between licks, his mouth never straying far from you, desperate to keep going even when he’s gasping for breath.

He’s a little too rough at times, sucking at your clit with a bit too much pressure, but the enthusiasm in his actions makes it hard to fault him for it. He’s learning from your reactions, his own inexperience showing through in the way he fumbles a bit, but it only adds to the intensity of the moment. When you tug on his hair, moaning out his name, he practically whines, grinding his face into you with renewed fervor. He’s almost overwhelmed by his own need, licking and sucking like he can’t get enough, like he’s trying to memorize every part of you with his mouth.

If you try to guide him, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging gently to slow him down, he lets out a frustrated, needy sound, shaking his head as if to tell you he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to pace himself. He’s too lost in the moment, too eager to please, to care about taking his time. He’s devouring you like he’s afraid this is his only chance, like he’s desperate to prove how much he wants you, how much he loves being here, between your legs, giving you everything he can.

.