#꒰୨୧◞ lamb!reader

[winnie1emon]

✧.* now what happens when you find a frustrated theodore nott on the quidditch pitch...?

theodore nott x prefect!lamb!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.4k

cw: MDNI!!, smut, dom!theo, innocent!reader, sexual language, praise, piv, fingering, unprotected sex, face painting lmao, slight exhibitionism(?)(on the quidditch stands lol)

a/n: first smut fic like ever i fear... don't bully please </3 + been working on this sleep-deprived, lmk about spelling mistakes :(

"Hey- hey!" you said loudly over the raging music, leaning over your friend's shoulder. "I'm gonna go; got prefect duty!"

Your friend, too engrossed in your house's quidditch victory party after they had beaten Slytherin earlier that evening, gave you a mere nod before realizing you actually said something. "Really? There are other prefects out anyways and you never find anyone. Don't be lame, just stay!"

"No, it's fine. I like walking outside anyways, it's fun," you explained, garnering a rather dismissive wave goodbye from your friend.

You trudged down the corridors searching for the way out of the castle. Curfew was approaching and you were given the task of finding a few stragglers outdoors; a task you most appreciated due to the fact you'd never find anybody and you were usually lucky with receiving ample amounts of good weather.

Too comfortable with the usual, you spent most of your patrol time frolicking on the grassy fields and never looked too carefully for any students. You were about to head back inside when you saw the broom shed's door open. Curiously, you peered inside and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary...

A bit daunted, you closed the door and suddenly saw movement in the corner of your eye. You whipped around quickly, seeing someone flying on the quidditch pitch. You made your way into the pitch, assuming it was some overzealous lowerclassman riding on their broomstick.

As you made your way into the pitch, you realized how large it really was, somewhat awestruck. Hearing a distressed grunt, you turned around and saw the person who was flying, quite a distance away, chuck their broom onto the ground. You hastened over and the image came into view. Their brunette waves became clearer with each step you took and you managed to get their attention.

"H-hey!" You waved. You came to a stop in front of them, slightly huffing as they looked at you acutely. "Theodore, it's curfew in like... oh, two minutes ago."

Theodore raised an eyebrow at your words, seeming as if he had no idea who you were. "What?" he asked you, even though he heard what you said.

"It's past curfew, you can't be here," you said patiently. "What are you even doing here?"

"What's it look like?" he retorted. "Practicing," he added before you could answer his rhetoric question.

"Well... you should practice tomorrow. You already had that game today, you should take a break," you suggested.

He gave you what was probably the most condescending look ever, roaming over your figure. "Yeah, and we lost, princess. Need to practice."

"Don't overwork yourself," you said, your voice tinged with concern. "You were great today, I saw!"

"Mhm, probably cheering on your house, yeah?" he sneered. "Just get lost, I'm not harmin' anyone by practicing, but you're going to tell someone aren't you?" He looked a bit taut and you couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for him. After all, he wasn't the worst player on his team yet he was the only one here practicing, probably losing hairs in the process.

"No, I won't tell anyone," you said quickly. "You look exhausted though. At least sit down." You trailed all the way to one of the tall wooden towers going up to the quidditch spectator stands, feeling the wooden bench poke your thighs. Surprisingly, he sat beside you on your right with a grunt, running his hands through his hair.

Well, now what.

You peered at him in wonderment as his gaze was set straight, admiring his birthmark. Your eyes trailed around the side of his face, looking at his thick, dark brows and then at his slightly unkempt hair. He turned suddenly to face you and you darted your head away, embarrassed. He let out a small scoff, throwing his head down in a smirk.

"So," you started. "You like quidditch?" you asked dumbly. He obviously did... he plays.

"I do," he responded. "When we win."

"You guys almost did," you consoled him, tentatively reaching to rub his shoulder.

Theodore didn't protest, finding the way your palm's touch warmed his shoulder unexpectedly comforting. He looked at your seemingly apologetic face before his eyes wandered down your form, going from your neck and then down to your legs.

"Mm, almost."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you spoke up again. "Yeah, almost! Almost is good!" You reassured him. "Don't beat yourself up-- you're already so stressed." You recalled the instances in class where he'd focus on his work, the times you saw him in the library as you patrolled the halls, and the way he never seemed to hang out with his friends this past week.

"Oh princess," he said, calling you that nickname again, making you turn a light shade of pink. "When has almost winning ever helped anyone? What can I do about the stress? Nothing's going to change if I don't work." He gave a nonchalant shrug, breaking contact with your sorry eyes as he buried his head in his hands.

"Uhm... I mean, do you want help?" You peered at him, wide-eyed and full of pity.

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

And that's how you found yourself sitting on the open quidditch stands, thighs squeezed together with your head downcast as Theodore rubbed lazy circles over your underwear.

"I-I don't really see how this is supposed to help you," you mumbled.

He used his other hand to hold your chin gently, guiding your head to face him. "You think seeing a pretty girl like you lookin' like this doesn't help me?" he simpered. You felt your face heat up from the compliment, shifting your thighs to press against each other some more.

He let go of your chin and you looked down to watch him spread your thighs apart gently. Despite never being his friend, his touch felt familiar, even soothing. In fact, you didn't protest against him, even when you felt him slip your underwear to the side and insert a thick finger into your cunt.

Your mouth agape, you turned to look at him, brows knitting together as he met your gaze with a lascivious smile. You pressed your lips together to try and catch your breath, but it only lasted a few seconds as your lips parted once he entered another digit into you. He moved slowly, not taking his eyes off of yours, drinking in your dazed look.

You felt his pace increase, his fingers going in and out of your now glossy cunt rapidly, and let out a shaky moan which made Theodore's mouth contort in a wicked smile. You threw your head back, looking up at the greying sky. He leaned closer to you, his warm breath hitting your ear as he whispered.

"Feels good, yeah? Feels good to help me decompress hm?" He asked you quietly, having you squirm from his touch. You nodded meekly and let out a small yeah in response.

You had never experienced anything like this before. You were sort of scared, but also excited... maybe a bit confused? ...happy to help?

His touch eventually slowed, his two now-soaked fingers leaving your cunt as he held them up in front of you. Your eyes followed his fingers, your face turning into that of surprise as he brought his fingers into his mouth momentarily.

"So sweet..." he breathed out. "Come on, open up," he slapped your cheek lightly with his clean hand.

You opened your mouth slightly, your eyes looking reluctant.

"Come on, don't be scared," he cooed. You opened a little wider and he gently placed the two fingers on your tongue. You swirled your tongue around slowly, tasting sweet, kind of salty as well, but you weren't sure if that was you or his fingers. Taking in your appearance with his fingers in your mouth, he gave a breathy chuckle. "Cute."

He stood up from the bench with a sigh, taking a step in front of you. "Just one more thing, that okay?" he asked, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile.

"Yeah- yeah sure," you agreed. Even though you were unfamiliar with what you guys were doing, you were just glad you could help him out in some way.

"Good girl. --Has anyone told you how sweet you are?" He leaned forward slightly and cupped your cheeks to tilt your head upwards as you stayed seated on the bench.

"Some people, mhm," you nodded.

"Well, they weren't lying." He complimented you casually, making your stomach lurch in an oddly pleasant way. You adverted your gaze so you could soak in his compliment, your head then snapping up at the sound of a zipper. He gave you a wink that you'd be thinking about for the next week and a dazzling smile that you couldn't protest against.

He guided your legs up off the ground so you'd be kneeling on the stands bench and turned you around, having you facing opposite of the center of the quidditch pitch, towards the castle. Your eyes widened from the circumstances, the risk of being so exposed. You heard him shuffle a little behind you, the sound of his pants going down, boxers following.

You felt one of his cold fingers brush against your skin as he pushed your skirt up, making you shudder. He pulled your sodden underwear down and you heard him take a sharp inhale. His fingers ran over your folds, eliciting a groan from him. "You're so wet... n' you've never done this?" he asked you.

You shook your head, making him sigh.

"And you really want to give this to me?"

"Yeah, I do," you muttered quietly. You didn't care that it was Theodore, you just saw him as someone who needed some help and you were going to give it to them... Oh, who were you kidding? Of course you cared that it was Theodore. The Slytherin that you'd always catch yourself ogling at during the quidditch games, the one you'd stare at in potions, the guy you'd hold the door open for before Charms class.

Seeing no reason to delay his pleasure, Theodore positioned himself between your legs, holding your waist from behind as he pushed the tip of his cock into your ready cunt. You couldn't help the large gasp you let out while he stretched you out. You tried to recuperate momentarily, but he continued to enter you slowly, feeling as if there was no end.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmured. He slid in and out of you slowly, picking up the pace over time before you started to let out involuntary moans.

"Theo- Theodore," you huffed out, almost whining. "The castle-- someone could see us," you worried.

His pace becoming incontinent, he brushed off your concern with ease. "No one will, okay?"

Even with his reassurance, you couldn't help but feel sheepish, your anxiety spiking as the thrill got to you.

"Oh my g-god," you moaned. Theodore leaned into your back, head resting on the nape of your shoulder. He snaked his arm on your other shoulder, putting you in a headlock. You brought your hands up to hold his arm, your mind going blank as he started up a relentless speed on you and had his other arm travel down to rub on your clit.

"Shh, shh," he whispered. "Now they will see us if you don't quiet down, yeah?" You nodded in agreement, understanding that you mustn't be loud. After a few minutes of biting back your moans as he drilled into you, he positioned you to lie on your back, on one of the benches. You complied and allowed him to reposition himself into you.

"F-fuck!" You mewled, unable to contain yourself in the new position.

"Shh, shh, shhh..." he shushed you once again, covering your mouth with a large hand as the other held both of your legs against his chest. "Be quiet for me, okay? You can do it," he murmured into your ear, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You nodded slowly as you looked up at him when he pulled his head away from you. "Good... so good."

So entranced by his eye contact, your brain drowned out the sounds of his cock going in and out of your sopping cunt, forgetting all about your precarious surroundings.

You felt the knot in your stomach begin to unravel and you knew that your orgasm was nearing. You clawed at Theodore's hand that was on your mouth and he let go, allowing your ragged gasps to float out into the air.

"You okay?" he asked you. "You close?" He couldn't help but smile endearingly at your state, horribly disheveled, biting your own lip to keep yourself from attracting attention.

"Mm," you nodded weakly, feeling your legs begin to shake. As you came undone, you felt him slow down, letting out groans of his own. You bit down on your lips harder and you could feel tears creeping into your eyes as you felt overloaded with sensations. He pulled out of you with a light pop and stepped towards your head.

He had his cock a few inches above your face and looked hesitant before asking, "May I?"

You honestly weren't very sure of what he was requesting, but you let out a soft yeah, being surprised once he spilled onto your face.

Your lips parted into an o-shape as you squinted slightly. After one last drop, you ran a finger on your cheek, observing the mark he left on you trailing down your finger. He dropped his hands to his side and crouched down to be face level with you. He cupped your face with his hands as he ushered you to sit up.

"You're a sweetheart, so nice of you to help," he praised. Even though he had just done things to you that you'd never even been brave enough to imagine an hour prior, you couldn't fight back the bashful look on your face.

"Of course," you whispered. "Do you feel better?" you asked, pulling your underwear back up.

"Yeah, yeah I do," he chortled. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You saw the sky darkening by the second and looked out the pitch. "Oh! Someone's coming!" you exclaimed.

He gave a mischievous smile that you could stare at for days, planted a quick kiss on your lips, and grabbed your hand to stand you up, brushing ur skirt down to cover your behind.

"Then let's go."

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[melanchol1cs]

would any of you guys be interested in beta reading the next few chapters of lambs to the slaughter?😭😭 just asking cuz i’d really wanna hear some criticism and suggestions before i put them out and stuff

[g1rldrool]

farm life with abby hc's 🧺

warnings: a little smut, fluff, reader is basically a housewife !

୨୧ abby who chops wood while you work with the animals,

୨୧ abby who loves watching you prance around in your dresses and skirts while you hang out and help the goats, lambs and horses

୨୧ abby who helps you wash dishes, even after a long day of work she still helps you cook and clean

୨୧ abby who builds you a swing attached to a tree in your backyard, she adds fake vines around the ropes holding it up

୨୧ abby who helps you cook for a picnic that you planned

୨୧ abby who fucks you on the picnic blanket, her fingers buried inside your gummy walls as your moaning under her

୨୧ abby who takes a nap with you after destroying your cunt, the blanket feels soso soft under her and she can't help but fall asleep as the wind blows against you two

୨୧ abby who sits down next to as you sew up some new clothes or fix clothes she ripped while working

୨୧ abby who watches you get excited when she steps out of the shower after a long day

୨୧ abby who buys you cowboy boots as an anniversary gift,, abby who's also not surprised when you add bows to them

୨୧ abby who loves living on your shared farm and wouldn't trade you for the world<33

[ainaslastnerve]

Just Maybe

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: A girl at the edge of Ithaca’s court falls quietly in love with Prince Telemachus, drawn in by stolen glances and tender moments never fully spoken aloud. He holds her close, but never fully chooses her—still haunted by a lost love. Yet she hopes. She waits.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Telemachus

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, unrequited love Extra: i've been feelin' like crap romantically this week, so you know i have to write it :P also it's like 1 am here so apologies for grammatical issues,, enjoy anyway ehehe (tele fic, but at what cost?)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶

It begins subtly. A glance too long. A smile too soft. He smiles at everyone—he’s a prince, after all, raised in the art of charm. But the smile he gives you isn’t rehearsed. It’s smaller. Lopsided. Almost shy. The kind of smile meant to be caught, not shown. You're seated at the very end of the long feasting table, hidden beside the weavers and the servants’ children, shoulders bowed, the din of suitors crashing around you like waves against stone. Wine sloshes, voices boom, and silverware clatters over half-eaten lamb.

And then—across the chaos and candlelight—he finds you.

Prince Telemachus of Ithaca. Crownless, uncertain, still learning the weight of his father's name. His eyes catch yours through the golden flicker, and he smiles. That smile. You smile back. Oh, how could you not? He drops his eyes quickly like the look between you was something indecent. As if seen, it would shatter. That smile—it’s not royal. Not performative. It’s a secret. And gods, you keep it like one.

Later, you’re helping Queen Penelope in the storerooms, hands raw from organizing amphorae and baskets of wool. Dust rises in shafts of light. You reach for a jar and your finger catches on the jagged edge of the clay. A hiss of pain. Blood beads at your fingertip, bright and blooming. You don’t even call out, but he’s there.

“You’re always hurting yourself,” he says, half-laughing, pulling a strip of cloth from the inside of his sleeve like he’s done this before.

You blink, trying not to wince. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

His fingers are warm as he wraps yours, slow and gentle, careful like you’re made of glass. His thumb lingers at the inside of your wrist—right over the pulse that stutters beneath his touch. You look up at him. And he looks back. His gaze doesn’t falter, just holds, steady and quiet and unguarded. You forget to breathe. Then he clears his throat, steps back like the air between you has grown too heavy.

“There,” he says.

The moment vanishes. But the echo of it—his hands, his voice, his nearness—it stays. But all begins in earnest the first night there’s a storm.

You wake to the sound of thunder splitting the heavens, and the memories rise with it. Your mother—her voice, her hair, her hands—and then the sea swallowing her whole. You’re gasping before you're even fully awake, caught in a storm of your own making. You don’t think. You just run. You knock on his chamber door, half-soaked in sweat and fear. He opens it, eyes drowsy, tunic rumpled.

“You okay?”

You can’t speak. You just look at him.

“Come in.”

You curl up at the edge of his bed. He sits nearby, legs dangling, trying not to look at you too long. Then, wordlessly, he lies beside you—not touching. Just close. Close enough that you feel his warmth through the blanket. Close enough that the thunder fades.

It happens again the next week. Then again. And again. He never asks why. He never says no. He just makes space for you. And in silence, something grows. In the gardens, beneath the olive branches, the sunlight paints lazy patterns on his face. He’s seated on the low wall, plucking fig leaves, tossing them at you like a child.

“What would you do,” he asks, “if you weren’t here? If you weren’t stuck in this crumbling palace, with a dying kingdom and a half-dead king?”

You shrug. “Live by the sea, maybe. Make soap. Marry a fisherman with strong hands and a quiet smile.”

He laughs, tossing a leaf that catches in your hair. “That’s dull.”

“And what, you’d do better?”

He leans back, face turned to the sky. “I’d rebuild this place. Tear it down to the bone. Burn out the rot. Start again. Or maybe leave. I don’t know. Sometimes I imagine…”

“Imagine what?”

His eyes flick to yours. He hesitates.

“I imagine you there. In that future.”

You stop breathing. He doesn’t say more. Just stands, brushing his hands off.

“Come on,” he says, grinning almost like a child. “Race me to the stairs.”

And you do. You run like your heart is on fire.

Then there’s the festival. Gold and white shimmer in every direction. Lamps sway in the breeze, and music curls through the dusk. You wear a borrowed dress, the hem a little too short. Nothing special. But when Telemachus sees you, he stops walking. And his jaw tightens.

“You look…” he says, then bites it back. “Don’t let the suitors bother you tonight.”

That’s all. But later, when one of them gets too close—when his hand touches your back and his mouth spills wine-sour compliments—Telemachus appears like a tide. He takes your hand. Doesn’t ask. Just takes it.

“Dance with me,” he says.

You do.

You dance until your feet ache and the stars wheel overhead. And when the music fades and the wine wears off and you stand beneath a flickering torch, he leans in. Brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. Says, barely audible:

“I always forget how beautiful you are until you’re right here.”

And then… he walks away.

But gods, you hope.

You never push. Never ask for more than he gives. But sometimes, he slips. Once, he’s drunk—half-collapsed on the courtyard steps, wine-dark stains on his tunic. You sit beside him while the others drift off.

“She was… golden,” he mumbles. “Like a prayer I could never finish.”

You say nothing. He turns his head. His eyes unfocused. “I keep thinking she’ll come back. That she’ll walk through the doors, and I’ll forget everything.”

You feel it then—the wound he doesn’t hide. And the place inside you he never looks at. You leave him there. But in the morning, he finds you. Says nothing. Just presses honeyed bread into your hands like an apology. You take it. You always do. It’s late summer when it nearly happens. You sat on the palace wall. The wind is loud with cicadas. You talk about figs. About suitors. About nothing. You laugh, and he watches you. Too long. His gaze drops to your mouth.

He leans in. Your heart thrashes. His hand brushes your hair back. Your lips part. But he stops.

“I… shouldn’t,” he whispers.

You nod. A small thing. A survival thing. But inside, your chest pulses like a bruise—dark, deep, spreading. You carry it quietly, like a secret wound beneath your ribs, where no one can see the way it pulses with every breath you take. But bruises can only be pressed so long before they break.

And one day, it does. You find yourself in the corridor—dimly lit, silent but for the distant murmur of court life behind thick stone walls. The air feels colder here. Or maybe that’s just you, hollowed out from the waiting. Your heartbeat is a drumbeat in your ears, frantic and helpless, like a bird trapped behind your sternum.

He’s standing there, the same as always. Familiar in all the ways that hurt. You open your mouth, and the words rise like smoke from something smoldering in your chest.

“You’re the only one who makes any of this bearable.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. The stillness between you stretches thin, tight, like a thread straining to hold. You inhale—shallow, trembling—as if it’s the last breath you’ll ever be allowed. As if the truth in your mouth might be poison, but you drink it anyway.

“I think I love you, Telemachus.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

And then: a breath, a pause, and so quietly you almost miss it—

“I’m sorry.”

It lands like ice water down your spine. You flinch. You don’t mean to, but you do. You search his face, desperate, frantic for something—anything—that might soften the blow.

“What?” you whisper. His voice is low, fraying at the edges. “I-I don’t know what to say.. I don't know if I feel the same.”

The ache in your chest fractures into something sharper. “But you—” You can’t finish. Your voice breaks on the edge of the sentence like a ship dashed against rocks.

“I know,” he says. “I thought it wouldn’t matter.”

You stare at him. “It mattered to me.”

He finally looks at you—and you almost wish he hadn’t. Because what you see in his eyes is worse than indifference. It's knowing. It's sorrow. It’s the ruin left behind after something sacred has already burned. His eyes close.

And that that is the cruelest part. He knows exactly what he gave you. The glances like shared secrets. The moments heavy with almost. The kind of silence that spoke louder than words. He knows what he let you carry, and still, he turns away from it.

“I thought it meant something,” you say, barely audible.

Your voice is smoke now, soft and fading, curling around the truth like a final prayer. And he doesn’t deny it. Because it did. Not enough to stay. Not enough to fight. Not enough to love you back.

Maybe it was all just not enough.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶

hai,, i promise i'm still alive,, just with my loving wife oddy <3 (if ure reading this HAII mwamwa)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 7 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇Pairing: Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇note: this one’s also kinda short

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Y/N moved swiftly through the dark, narrow passageways, her bare feet barely making a sound on the cold stone floor. She muttered to herself as she went, swatting at cobwebs that clung stubbornly to her hair and clothes. “He’s so dramatic,” she grumbled, brushing off a spider that had found its way onto her shoulder. “It was just a stupid figurine. It’s not like I burned the whole palace down.” The image of Telemachus’s furious face flashed in her mind, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Honestly, calling me a maneater. As if I’m the one stomping around like a cornered animal. Little wolf indeed.”

She ducked under a low hanging beam, wincing as her tunic caught on a protruding nail. “And what’s with all the yelling?” she continued, tugging herself free. “I swear, I’ve met warriors on the battlefield with less of a temper. Maybe if he didn’t bottle everything up, he wouldn’t explode every time someone so much as looks at him sideways.”

A faint draft of air signaled she was nearing her own room’s hidden entrance. She sighed in relief, eager to be free of the suffocating darkness. “He should really thank me,” she mused aloud, her voice echoing slightly in the empty corridor. “That little tantrum was probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to him in months.”

She reached the trapdoor that led to her room and pushed it open, stepping into the dimly lit space. Closing the door behind her, Y/n dusted off her hands and plopped onto her bed with a groan.

“Over a stupid ship,” she muttered, flopping onto her back and staring at the ceiling. “What’s next? He’s going to cry if I so much as breathe near his quill collection?” She stretched her arms above her head, a smirk returning to her lips. “Still, it was kind of cute, in a way. All that righteous indignation. I should call him a little lamb next time, see how he likes that.”

Her thoughts lingered on Telemachus’s anger, the way his voice had cracked as he shouted at her. For a moment, something like guilt flickered in her chest, but she quickly pushed it aside.

“He’ll get over it,” she said to herself, closing her eyes. “They always do.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The night was unusually quiet, save for the faint creaks of the old palace and the distant sound of waves brushing against the shore. Y/N lay on her bed, staring at the wooden beams above her, but no matter how much she shifted, sleep wouldn’t come. With a frustrated sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. The air was cool against her skin as she padded barefoot to her door, deciding that a walk might clear her restless thoughts.

The halls were dimly lit by flickering torches, casting long, dancing shadows along the walls. Y/N moved with practiced ease, her footsteps soft on the stone floor. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was going, just letting her instincts guide her through the familiar twists and turns of the palace.

As she approached the main hall, she heard voices. Familiar ones. Her pace slowed, and she stepped lightly, keeping to the shadows.

Antinous’s booming laugh echoed through the corridor. “You’re dreaming! Eurymachus, little N/N? And Telemachus? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all week!”

Y/n’s brow furrowed. She leaned closer, staying just out of sight as Eurymachus’s voice, smoother and quieter, replied. “Is it, though? Have you seen the way she needles him? She’s practically carved herself into his head. That kind of attention has a way of turning into… other things.”

Antinous scoffed. “Please. Y/N likes to mess with people, that’s all. She’s been like that since we were little kids. Telemachus is no different, he’s just another toy to her.”

“But what if he’s not?” Eurymachus pressed, his tone more serious now. “You never know, Antinous. Telemachus might surprise you. And if he manages to catch her heart, well…that could be a problem for us.” Y/N stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. She wanted to burst in and demand to know what they were talking about, but her curiosity held her back.

Antinous let out another laugh, though there was a sharpness to it this time. “Telemachus? Catch Y/N’s heart? You’re giving him way too much credit. She’s out of his league, and she knows it.”

“Maybe,” Eurymachus said thoughtfully. “But emotions are tricky. Sometimes, the people you least expect to fall for each other do. And you should be careful, Antinous. If Telemachus got her on his side, she could become a real thorn in ours.”

Antinous grunted. “Let me worry about Y/N. She’s my sister, not some wild card. Besides, she’d never take that boy seriously. He’s all bark and no bite.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate him,” Eurymachus added. “And I wouldn’t underestimate her, either. Y/N unpredictable, and unpredictability can be dangerous.”

Antinous chuckled darkly. “Dangerous? Please. The only danger Y/N causes is to my patience.”

Y/N decided she’d heard enough. Turning on her heel, she stalked back the way she came, her mind racing. “Catch my heart?” she muttered under her breath, her lips curling into a sly smile. “As if.”

But as she climbed the stairs back to her room, a small part of her couldn’t shake the idea. What if they’re right? What if I am getting too… entangled? She shook her head, dismissing the thought. “They’re just overthinking things,” she said to herself. “Per usual.”

Still, as she slipped back into her room and climbed into bed, the conversation lingered in her mind longer than she cared to admit.

[tinylilacbun]

How do you think cg!Rafe would react to little!reader who has had a really bad day and is very deep in littlespace?

I'm not really happy with how this turned out but I tried 😭

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You both had been invited to some family gathering by Rafe's dad. It was a fancy restaurant and many relatives were there which already made you nervous because you had the urge to be little since you woke up but decided to push that away for the sake of Rafe not canceling, knowing he would do that in a heartbeat but you wanted to impress his family since you still felt out of place any time at one of the Cameron's gatherings and decided not to tell him.

Everything had gone smoothly until you went to use the restroom. Sitting in your stall you could hear two of his cousins talking bad about you. You tried holding back your tears but the second you heard the door shut again your feelings poured over.

You didn't know how long you had been sitting there sobbing, that fuzzy feeling you get when you're at the verge of slipping having you shake your head.

"No, no, no...not now- be big. Imma big girl-" You mumbled to yourself, getting up and checking if anyone is there before you went to look at yourself in the mirror, scolding yourself. "Stop being a baby."

If Rafe could hear you right now. Lord have mercy. He would scold you even more for disrespecting your little self.

When you were sure your crying stopped you wiped away the remaining tears and took a deep breath. Leaving the restroom you suddenly bumped into someones chest, looking up you sighed when it was da- Rafe.

"You were gone for a while, you okay?" He asked and even though you nod he knew you were lying, your puffy and red eyes giving you away. He just let it go for now as the evening is almost over and you both just wanted to get over with it.

Later in the car you were silent, just looking out the window and playing with the end of your soft pink dress. Rafe glanced your way and sighed.

"Look, I- I know something happened earlier and don't say 'it's nothing' because when you cried about it's- it's not nothing, a'ight? So, tell me."

You just shook your head, not in the mood to talk anymore today. The only thing you wanted now was to wrap yourself in a blanket and sleep.

He wanted to press the subject further, placing his hand on your thigh to give you some assurance but you only shrugged his hand off and Rafe then slowly figured that you may have slipped the second you got in the car and that you're probably just tired and overstimulated from everything.

"Okay, I understand. Let's- we'll talk about it later." He said and you didn't give him any sign of acknowledgement, looking out the window again.

Back at home you completely shut down, quickly making your way to the bedroom, grabbing your lamb stuffie and curled up under the covers. All the big emotions you felt having frustrated tears flowing down your cheeks again.

Rafe came in a few minutes later and smirked, not obvious to the situation and sat down by your side, pulling the bedsheets off your head and is instantly worried by your tears, his eyes widen.

"Hey, Hey, hey. C'mere." He pulled you into his arms, ignoring your fussing and weak attempts at trying to push him away. "No- none of that. Shh, you're okay."

You only whined, giving up and slumping against him, gripping onto his shirt and letting the tears flow. Rafe started rocking you while whispering affirmations, practically suffocating you in his hold but that's exactly what you needed right now.

After your little meltdown you pulled your face from his neck, looking up at him with big eyes, just blinking at him slowly. He was a bit irritated because he didn't know that look at all.

You only mumbled a small 'daddy' before placing your head back on his shoulder and slipping your thumb between your lips.

It then clicked in Rafe's head.

"Someone's feeling really small, hm?" He rubbed your arm, feeling you nod against him. "That's okay. That's why daddy's here, to take care of you."

He just kept holding and rocking you. When you were sound asleep he reached over to grab your paci from your nightstand and took your thumb out of your mouth, quickly replacing it with the paci when you started to stir.

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Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra

[cute-sucker]

i LOVE your jj's diner series <33 could you do one of him, reader and the baby going out for something like shopping or a picnic!!

let me tell you that man does not know how to choose clothes.

short masterlist: part one here, part two here, part three here, part four here, part five here

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jj tells you that he's gonna take you out to treat you.

you've put your baby in cute clothing, a small cap and you're in a flowery dress. jj is waiting for you, playing with his keys, tongue peaking out of his mouth. there is something rugged about him, as he's got his hands shoved down his shorts, you just want to shove your tongue down his throat.

but what you really do is awkwardly gawk at him like a pining teenager, feeling your heart beat faster. theres something shy in his gaze as well, as if he's looking for your approval. as if he's asking if everything is okay.

"ready?" he murmured, and you kissed his cheek, a blush evident in your face as there was a spring in your step. you were practically hopping from side to side. jj looked surprised at the soft kiss, biting his lip before nudging you to the side with a begrudging grunt.

you liked him as an old grump. there was something nice about making him smile after that. and there was something about his smile, so sweet and peculiar. something that made you want to etch into your skin forever.

but instead, you tried not to blush as you wobbled over to the truck. it was a decent old thing, some scratches, but it was enough to take you and jj anywhere, but he took care of it like it was his baby. you tried not to notice the baby seat that was plugged in, but when his blue eyes wandered to look at you, you couldn't help but grin, biting your lip as you did so.

"jj, you didn't have to-"

he didn't bat an eye before scoffing, but he looked pleased. "i thought i'd be taking you place. milking me for all i'm worth, aren't you?"

you laughed, before resting your head on his car. he winked at you before looking at his truck with a proud look, "good old thing isn't itm" jj murmured, winking at you before you nodded, and then squeezed the baby girl's cheek, "such a cutie, aren't ya?"

the baby smiled, chubby hands reaching for jj again. in moments she had jj's cap on, shrieking with joy. she had a small lamb blanky with her too, something that she had taken from jj at the apartment. you could barely believe that old thing had stayed so long in jj's apartment, but the way that jj looked at her when she cried for it told you everything about him.

he cared for her.

and now here he was paying for your little girl's clothes, and taking you on a picnic. when he heard your stomach growl, he gave you a small cupcake and you smiled at him gratefully. he was so caring, so attentive to your needs.

the whole situation may have been nice, but you couldn't help but feel shame remembering how it came to be. you had been at the diner, scrambling to pay the bill before you noticed jj's watchful eyes land on yours.

all of a sudden you were crying, tears welling in your eyes telling him about how hard it was to scrape a dollar to pay for everything. as you sobbed, you told him how entitled you felt now - running away from the life that you always knew and now complaining about your issues.

if there was anything he didn't like, it was you beating yourself down, and before you knew it he was soothing you. his warm hand was rubbing your back, as he whispered to your softly, "bambi, ya need to calm down before you give me a stroke."

you nodded, "yea' i'm sorry-"

at this he had shaken his head, "what did i say about saying 'sorry,'? you don't need to say it."

you felt your throat clog up, "yes jj! i swear i'm sorry-"

he held a finger up to your mouth, "nah, nah that's enough of that. i can always help, now what do you need help with?"

quickly enough you found yourself looking at the chaffed clothes that your baby was wearing, and you cringed at yourself. jj eyes travelled to your sweet blubbering baby and laughed to himself, "yeah? she needs different clothes doesn't she?"

before you knew it, you were planning a day to go to shopping for the baby as he grumbled about it all a smile on his face.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

bonus:

"jj! i am not dressing my baby in those disgusting khakis. she's going to be fashionable."

jj gave you a flaux look, before bringing the pants closer to her face, as she grinned, clapping her hands, "yeah! you like it don't you."

"the jury has decided! the khaki's stay."

you gave him a pointed look, as he shrugged tossing it in the basket, "listen, this wasn't up to me. it was up to her."

god, you thought you loved him.

taglist: @yourmumstoym @lionasvault @saturnrings77 @rainbowpiss34@wowza31419 @tcddszn@maraudersmyloves@stxr-slut@redhead1180@dinnodallas @breeistired @obaex @maybankslover @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @alliisinwonderland05 @darlingchronicles @wearemadeofstardust0 ,@niyalovests @psyches-reid @lillell467 @crangrapel0ver @tcddszn @hxlcyxnn

let me know if you'd like to be added !! + feel free to request <3 (omg the taglist is getting longer...)

[yindollys]

here is some mafioso x reader smut head canons for y'all little freaks!!!

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• I head cannon that mafioso is some what of a hard possessive Dom for you and likes putting you in your place when your being a brat!

• he definitely calls you sweet names like "my little lamb, princess, doll, sweet girl, and my bratty little princess!

• now onto his size his cock is definitely 10/11 inchs and he is wide and veiny asf!

• he loves bullying and teasing you when your having sex and he absolutely loves just shoving his cock inside of you!

• his favorite place to have sex is definitely your bedroom or in his car!

• when he's being lazy he'll just use his fingers on you and overstimulate you like crazy!

• he loves making you suck his cock and he absolutely loves anytime you gag on his length!

• if your into it he'll definitely hit you while your having sex after you we're being a brat to him!

• oh he absolutely loves fucking you into your mattress until you pass out from being used so much!

Anyways that's all for now hope you guys enjoyed this and I might make more!!!

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[pricesgirl]

Cherry flavoured

Chloe Price/female reader

C.W: Substance Use/Addiction, Implied Suicidality, and overall darker themes

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Chapter 1

Y/N

80

80 out of 100.

Never once in my life have I gotten below a 90 on a damn test. Not in middle school. Not in freshman chem. Not even when I had the flu and couldn’t see straight.

And now? Now I get an 80 in the one class that actually matters for me  college.

The number glares up at me like it knows what it’s done. Red ink—circled twice. Twice. Like the professor thought I wouldn’t notice. Like I needed help seeing my failure.

It’s not just a grade. It’s a scarlet letter.

“People would kill for an 80,” I’ve been told, like that’s supposed to be comforting. Like knowing someone else is worse off should stop me from feeling like I’ve been gutted.

I exhale slowly, smoke spilling from my lips as they part, head tipping back against the cold metal of the stall wall. It’s sharp in my throat, a dry bite that scratches all the way down. Burns, but I welcome it. I need it to.

They’re American Spirits—the yellow pack. I’m on the last one.

I bought them because they were supposed to be the healthier choice. Like that fucking matters. Like there’s such a thing as a clean way to self-destruct. As if branding could soften the edge of the blade I keep pressing to the inside of my lungs.

I didn’t even get them from the corner store near campus—too risky, too many familiar faces. Too many questions in the cashier’s eyes.

So instead, I drove fifteen minutes out to some seedy, half-lit grocery store that reeked of bleach and rotting produce. Cash only. No small talk. No one to recognize the straight-A girl trading quiet excellence for a slow, smoky suicide.

They burn slower. That’s the whole gimmick.

More time to sit with it. To stew. To rot. To hate myself a little longer with every drag.

Silence can be fucking suffocating, but of course, it doesn't last long because the door creaks open.

Shit.

I go still, lips parted, cigarette hovering mid-air. I barely breathe. Footsteps click across the tile, hesitant, like whoever it is already knows they’ve stepped into something they weren’t supposed to see.

There’s a pause. Then a voice, meek and soft. "Y/N?"

My heart drops. No. No no no. Not her.

It’s Kate.

Sweet, sweet Kate Marsh.

Kate—who prays before exams, who always has tissues in her bag, who probably says “bless you” even when no one sneezes. Kate, who smiles like the world hasn’t already chewed her up and spit her out. Who still somehow believes in goodness.

In forgiveness.

In grace.

She probably has a Psalm bookmarked for days like this. Something about laying your burdens down and being cradled in divine light. Something gentle. Something merciful.

I don’t turn. I can’t. I stare straight ahead at the cracked tile, at the barely-smothered ember of the cigarette I just killed, and hope she takes the hint.

But her shoes shuffle closer. Soft soles. Of course, she wears soft soles.

"I—uh—I saw you leave class early," she says, her voice hushed, "You looked kind of... upset."

I want to laugh. Kind of?

Try barely holding myself together. Try losing it in a bathroom while chain-smoking my GPA into oblivion.

I clear my throat instead. It sounds rough. Scraped raw. "I'm fine."

Kate doesn't buy it. I can feel the warmth of her sympathy even without looking. It burns worse than the smoke. Like holy water on a wound. She edges closer. I catch a glimpse of her in the mirror—long sleeves, nervous hands twisting the edge of her sweater. 

"Well… Victoria shouted at me asking where you were.” Her voice is almost apologetic like she’s the one who should be sorry.

I laugh—bitter, humorless.  Of course, Victoria did.

Too good to walk her glossy little heels into the bathroom herself. God forbid she step into the trenches.

Send the lamb to fetch the wreck.

Kate shifts awkwardly like she knows exactly how this sounds coming out of her mouth. “She said something about… Nathan,” she adds, voice smaller now, careful—like even saying his name might summon him.

“She said he’s got your cigarettes,” Kate finishes. “For you.”

“Took him damn long enough.” I let the words drip with venom, even though I don’t have the energy to mean them. It’s just habit now. Deflection dressed up as defiance.

“Did she say where to meet him?”

Kate hesitates. Just for a second. Just long enough. “In the back lot,” she says. “By the old maintenance shed.”

Out of sight, out of mind. Where all the real rot happens.

Typical Nathan.

Typical Victoria.

Kate’s still standing there, looking like she wants to say more. Like she’s trying to puzzle out a safe way to care without overstepping.

“Don’t worry,” I mutter, voice rough. “I’m not planning to OD behind the shed or anything.”

She flinches at my joke. Just barely.

“Kate,” I say, turning to look at her finally, eyes half-lidded and smoke-tired. “I promise I’ll be safe, pinkie swear?”

I hold up my pinkie, shaky and insincere, the ghost of a smile tugging at my mouth like it's been stapled there.

She hesitates. Just for a second. Then she lifts her hand. Slow. Careful. Like she’s afraid I might shatter if she moves too fast. And she hooks her pinkie around mine. It’s warm. Small. Steady in a way I haven’t felt in days.

“God holds us to our promises,” she murmurs. Not a threat. Just a truth she believes.

I swallow hard. Can’t look at her. I tighten my pinkie around hers anyway. “Then I guess I better keep it.”

For once, I almost mean it.

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Chloe

Absolutely fucking typical.

The second David peels out of the driveway to go do his shitty little job—security guard, like that means anything—is the exact second I run out of weed. 

Of course it is. Like the universe was just waiting to kick me in the tits the second I got comfortable.

I rifle through the drawer by my bed like there’s gonna be a miracle eighth I forgot about. Like maybe, just maybe, past-me left a little salvation tucked behind the dead Bic and broken dreams. But no. Just a lighter that doesn’t spark, a crumpled receipt from Two Whales with grease stains on it, and a busted guitar pick that used to mean something. 

Fucking awesome.

I let myself fall back onto the mattress, arms out like I’m waiting for the second coming—only it’s just mold on the ceiling and the sound of a leaky pipe behind the wall.

My chest tightens just thinking about a day without a hit. 

Not because I’m some addict or whatever—fuck that label—but because this is the one thing that makes the static in my head go quiet. For a second. Sometimes. When it works.

Whatever. I’ll text Frank. Again. 

Pretend like I don’t owe him for the last two. Pretend he won’t give me that sleazy, judgmental look over his stupid sunglasses. Pretend I’m not crawling back because the alternative is lying here sober enough to feel everything.

I grab my phone off the nightstand. Screen’s cracked—again. The brightness stabs my eyes but whatever. I thumb open my messages and hover for a second over Frank’s name.

me: hey

me: u around

me: need to grab something

me: asap

I stare at the screen. Three dots. Then nothing. He’s so fucking indecisive.

frank: thought u were gonna pay me first

frank: this some kind of joke?

frank: not a fuckin charity, chloe

I roll my eyes so hard they practically detach. Of course. Always with the guilt trip. Always with the I’m just a businessman act like he’s not dealing dime bags out of a busted RV.

me: i’ll get it to you

me: swear

me: just need it now, okay?

The typing bubble flickers on and off. Like he’s thinking real hard about whether I’m worth the effort.

frank: meeting another client first

frank: can’t babysit u all day

frank: come by in an hour, don’t be late

me: let me guess

me: prescott?

Because of course it’s him. Rich little psycho with a trust fund and a god complex. Probably paying Frank double just to feel cool.

Probably ordering molly like it’s takeout while people like me scrape together couch change for a dime bag.

frank: none of ur business

frank: just be on time

I clench my jaw so hard it aches.

Yeah. That means yes.

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Y/N

The maintenance shed is crumbling now—wooden walls sagging under the weight of time, a shadow of whatever it used to be. Ivy crawls up the sides, thick and tangled, like it’s trying to choke the life out of the place. I can’t blame it. I get the impulse.

The ivy’s dark green, so lush it looks almost alive. It twists and winds in on itself, reaching up and around like it’s trying to escape, just like me. Trying to take over, smother whatever’s already decaying.

I lean back against the splintering wall, the rough wood pressing into the delicate lace of my top—tiny floral patterns catching on splinters, pulling at threads with every breath. The lace is thin, almost translucent in places, and it feels ridiculous against this decaying backdrop, like I’m wearing a fragile cage around my skin.

I should’ve brought a jacket—it’s cold as hell out here, but the chill doesn’t register. It’s the same numbness that’s been sitting on my chest all day, crawling under my skin like I’m made of ice.

The crunch of footsteps breaks through the silence, and my heart jolts in my chest. I turn just as Nathan appears around the corner, his silhouette cutting through the dim light like a shadow with too much presence.

“Got your shit,” he says, casual as anything, but there’s a glint in his eyes—something sly. He tosses the crumpled pack in the air like it's nothing, lets it arc before catching it again with a grin. “Miss me?”

I don’t answer. Just cross my arms and stare him down, but that only seems to amuse him more.

He steps closer, boots crunching on the gravel, letting the silence stretch like he’s enjoying the tension. The space between us shrinks until I can smell his cologne—sharp and synthetic, trying too hard to smell like danger..

“C’mon,” he says, smirk widening. “Don’t be like that. I bring you gifts and everything.”

He holds the pack out with two fingers, just out of reach, like he wants me to come closer for it. I don’t move.

“You always this grumpy, or just when I show up?” he adds, tone dipped in mock-flirt. “It’s kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

Something twists in my gut, tight and uncomfortable. I snatch the pack from his hand like it’s poisoned.

He shrugs, hands shoved into his pockets. “They’re the same damn smokes I always get you. I dunno why you’re all psychoanalyzing them.”

“They look different,” I murmur, fingers tracing the pack’s surface. The logo’s the same—American Spirits in cherry red—but the color’s changed. Not the usual bright orange. This one’s a deep forest green, the words “Menthol — Full Bodied Taste” scrawled in black at the bottom.

“What the fuck, Nathan, menthol full-bodied—are you serious right now?”

He just smirks, so fucking infuriating. His grin spreads like he’s won some private joke.

“Now, I thought you might say that—” His hand disappears into his pocket and pulls out a small, sealed bag. It’s discreet, the kind you’d miss if you weren’t looking closely.

“Just got this from my plug,” he says, tossing the bag between his fingers. “Wanna try?”

It’s weed. I can tell by the way it’s packaged. Not the same as the cigarettes I’ve been chain-smoking, but just as easy to slip into a routine.

I want to say no. I should say no.

But then the thought drifts through my mind like a half-formed cloud: what’s one more thing? One more way to numb myself from whatever it is that keeps gnawing at my insides.

──────────────── ୨୧ ────────────────

Chloe

Frank’s already got that look on his face when I swing open the RV door—the one that says I’m about to be disappointed.

He doesn’t even wait for me to sit down before dropping the bomb.

“Sold the last of it,” he grunts, not even pretending to feel bad about it. “Kid cleaned me out.”

I blink. “Are you fucking serious?”

He shrugs, lighting a cigarette with that busted-ass Zippo like this is just another Tuesday. “Yeah. What, you think I’ve got a secret Chloe stash somewhere? You’re not that special.”

I let out this bitter little laugh—one of those hollow, no-humor-in-it laughs that feels more like choking. “Yeah, no shit I’m not special. Trust me, I’ve been getting the memo.”

Frank doesn’t even flinch. Just leans back in his chair, smoke curling out of his nose like a bored dragon. He’s in one of his don’t-give-a-fuck moods, and I know pushing him won’t do shit except maybe get me kicked out of the RV.

Still, I can’t help it.

“Let me guess,” I mutter, already knowing the answer. “Nathan?”

Frank doesn’t answer, which is basically confirmation. His silence is loud as hell.

“Fucking knew it,” I hiss, standing up so fast the couch creaks. “Rich prick probably bought the whole stash just to impress his imaginary friends.”

Frank gives me a side-eye, unimpressed. “Or maybe he just paid in full.”

I pace a little, every step making the floor of the RV creak like it’s gonna give out. My hands are shaking—part rage, part craving, part god-knows-what. “He doesn’t even need it. It’s just a game to him. He plays druggie for fun, and the rest of us are just stuck.”

Frank shrugs again, not unkind but definitely uninterested. “That’s life, Chloe. Pay up or miss out. You want me to feel bad, you picked the wrong guy.”

I look at him, jaw clenched. “You got anything left?”

He stubs out his cigarette, finally meeting my eyes. “Not unless you’re buying off Nathan.”

-

Buying off Nathan.

Frank, you fucking prick—you were onto something.

I haven't been on Blackwell's campus in ages—hell, I was expelled for being too much of a fuck-up—but it’s hardly changed, same red brick, same tired-looking windows staring back like they’ve seen it all before. 

The trees are still there, all sprawling and overgrown, giving the whole place a sort of half-hearted charm, looking straight out of a damn pamphlet.

“Enroll in Blackwell Academy today, where the ivy’s picturesque and the trauma’s free of charge.”

I round the corner, near the old maintenance shed—that's where I’ve heard whispers of Prescott lurking. 

Classic Nathan. 

Too rich to deal in alleyways like the rest of us, too fucked-up to use his dorm like a normal person. Nah, he picks the rotting skeleton of campus to play kingpin in.

Figures.

The shed looks like it’s about to collapse if you breathe on it wrong. Wood sagging, ivy strangling the walls, like even nature’s trying to put it out of its misery.

Rounding the corner, I can already hear his snotty little voice—nasal and smug, like he was born with a silver spoon halfway down his throat.

It should be shoved further.

“…This is good shit,” he’s saying, voice pitched just a little too loud, like he wants someone to overhear. “Like, actually top-shelf. My guy doesn’t fuck around.”

And then I hear it.

A girl. Her laugh’s soft, uncertain. She sounds tired. Off. But I swear to fucking god I’ve heard that laugh somewhere before.

“I don’t know if I even want it,” she says, words slow like she’s trying not to trip over them. “I just… can’t sleep.”

Nathan laughs—grating and hollow. “Then definitely take it. You’ll sleep like the dead.”

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Y/N

“The dead, huh?” I echo, trying to make it sound like a joke, like I’m in on whatever game he thinks we’re playing. But it comes out flat. Hollow. Like I’m the punchline and I don’t even get it.

Nathan snorts, nudges my arm like we’re friends. “Relax, it’s not that deep. You overthink everything.”

Maybe. Maybe I do.

Maybe if I thought less, I wouldn’t be out here freezing my ass off beside some crumbling maintenance shed, buying weed from a boy I barely trust, trying to soothe something I can’t even name. Maybe if I thought less, I’d be able to sleep. Or eat. Or breathe.

I stare down at the bag in my hand. It feels heavier than it should. Like it's full of decisions I’m not ready to make.

And then I feel it—someone watching. A shift in the air. The kind of silence that doesn’t come empty but full, dense, waiting.

“Y/N.”

The voice cuts through the haze like glass. I don’t even have to look up. I know it.

Chloe.

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authors note: hiii, i had so much fun writing this fic, life is strange is so important to me and i really hope i delivered with Chloe's characterisation because i love her so much, as of right now i have absolutely no idea how this fic is gonna progress but i can guarantee a happy ending :)

pls like and reblog, hope you enjoyed <33

[angelicanfk]

Farmer!Leon×HybridLamb!reader headcanons :3

a/n: hiiii ^-^ I wanted to start by saying that this is the first time I've published my writings on Tumblr, I hope I get support and above all you like it!!! ᨐฅ

(I must warn that English is not my first language ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა)

warnings: p in v , rubbing panties , size kink

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Farmer!Leon who adopts you because a friend needed to get rid of you :( It's not your fault that you're so fragile! Mom didn't take good care of you among your siblings.

Farmer!Leon Who can't help but fall in love with you from day one, with those fluffy ears and that nice ass you conquered his heart and cock of course.

Farmer!Leon Who pampers you day and night, would never let a beautiful girl like you sleep with the other hybrids, no.

Although after 3 weeks of sleeping with him, you still have a hard time getting used to waking up with Leon's cock between your thighs, growling behind you with heavy snorts.

Farmer!Leon Who is constantly squeezing and slapping your perky, cute little ass. He can practically hear your cheeks calling out to him for a slap, sure, it doesn't hurt but it's enough to make you shudder.

Farmer!Leon who can't help but decorate you with little bows and flowers in your little curls of your ears and hair , those farm clothes look perfect on you, his perfect little lamb.

Farmer!Leon Leon who can't help but place you against the wooden railing of the lamb shed, rubbing his hard cock between your thighs

You claw at the wood as you feel your lace panties getting soaked with every friction Leon exerts. "Such a good little lamb...ah taking everything I give you." He snorts against your neck as his thumb slips into the elastic of your panties, revealing your juicy and beautiful pussy.

He didn't want to do it, he swears, he couldn't do this to you without preparing you but oh... your walls gave him the best welcome. Of course, it was your moans that made his cock jump immediately, it was the most pornographic thing he had ever heard.

Farmer!Leon Leon who says goodbye to magazines and says goodbye to wrist pain after furiously pulling his fat cock, Now he has you to empty all his cum inside you :3

[winnie1emon]

― ⟢THOSE EYES

pairing: theodore nott x lamb!reader (fem)

word count: approx. 1.5k

cw: mdni, smut, established relationship, free use kink, corruption kink(?), google translated italian (sorry don't stone me please), dom!theo, innocent!reader, fingering, orgasm denial, piv, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: not me posting work after 6 months .. not proof read btw im eepy

Your body tingled in discomfort from the heat of the room, but you were unsure if it was from the beating sun shining through the window, or from the piercing beam of his stare. You watched the dust particles dance in the sunlight on your desk before returning your boyfriends gaze with a light smile.

How you bagged Theodore Nott— you had no clue. To others, and yourself, it was merely just luck of the draw. It was an odd pairing really, but you mustn't dwell on it too much now.

Turning your head back, you let your eyes rove over his side profile, his wonderfully chiseled jaw, his dark eyelashes...

As if he could sense you, Theodore looked back at you, his stoic expression fading away to be replaced with a light grin. You watched as he scribbled on a small scrap of parchment, folding the paper up and of course ensuring that Professor Snape's back was turned, then using a simple levitation charm to softly land it on your desk.

Before you could unfold the parchment, the sound of the bell filled the room. Not wanting to be the straggler in Professor Snape's classroom, you disregarded the scrap, packing your things.

The moment you stepped out of the classroom, packed against the students eager to get out of the potion master's classroom, you felt a heavy arm loop around your shoulders.

"Ciao tesoro..."

A small smile seeping onto your face, you turned your neck, "Hi Theo."

Your pace kept its rhythm, steps heading straight down to the North Tower for divination. Noticing your usual pathway, your boyfriend raised a slight brow, scoffing lightly.

“I take it that you didn’t read the note?”

“Hm?” you said lightly, having just forgotten about it quite quickly. “No, sorry should I-,” you began to ask, ruffling through your bag to find it just as he steered your path astray and into the dimly lit potions storeroom.

Oh.

Shutting the door with the flick of his wand, he released his control over you, arm sliding off your shoulder. The sound of his metal belt buckle undoing filled the room.

Caging your lip between your teeth, you spoke tentatively. “Theo, I have divination.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he spoke gently, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Just skip this one time for me, principessa.”

His rough hands on your face was feather light, his blue eyes full of love and lust simultaneously. Swallowing thickly, you remembered the other times he made you skip out on a class, his “just one a time”, a very repetitive lie.

But god, those eyes.

You couldn’t help but agree to his wishes, your brain merely fizzling out from the intense eye contact with your boyfriend. As you began to nod, he quickly cut you off with a sharp kiss.

Your eyes fluttered closed, his soft and gentle lips a stark contrast from the tougher skin of his fingertips on your face. His kiss was needy and desperate, and you returned it no better. Letting out small noises of arousal, you pressed into him, mouth hot and whiny.

He pushed up against you, causing your steps to go backwards in the small closet. You both distanced yourself as a few bottles clinked and fell over, eyes wide open, breath hitched.

Seeing as the bottles were fine and no spillage was present, Theodore wasted no more time in undoing your top, yanking and pulling it off.

Before you could blink, your skirt was bunched up at your waist, and you could feel two of his fingers ghosting over your underwear, right above your clothed clit.

A small whine elicited from your mouth, widening your eyes as you looked at him.

"Wet already?" he teased. He continued to mumble lewd comments into your ear, poking fun at how aroused you currently were— and he was right.

Tugging your panties down with a quick yank, the cool air of the closet hit your bare cunt, sending tingles up your spine. He ran a finger over your folds, letting out a low groan. "Come on, 's okay, princess."

You felt his finger dip slightly, stopping right at the entrance. Your lips parted, face heating up as he pushed two fingers into your aching cunt.

You couldn't help the way your brows knitted together or the way the breaths you took became shorted and quick.

As his fingers quickened, you don't even realize that your staring. Sometimes it was hard to tell if he purposefully looked at you like that or if that really was his regular face…

Feeling his fingers curl and hit the spot that made your eyes glassy, you squirmed, thighs pressed tightly together. Your back instinctively arched off the shelf as you felt your legs begin to tremble, lip wobbling to contain the lewd moans that threatens to slip.

Right before you could orgasm, he pulled his fingers out and, before you could babble, shoved them into your mouth.

Swirling your tongue around his long fingers, you were met with a mixture of saltiness, perhaps from the skin of his fingertips, and a tinge of sweetness, no doubt from your previous arousal.

As you sucked on his digits, he abruptly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, letting out a few condemning tsks.

"Don't get too excited now," he poked fun at your eagerness to let him do what he wanted.

Turning your back towards himself, he placed two of his fingers into his mouth before running them over your already sopping cunt. The sound of his zipper going down and pants dropping filled the small space, your head spinning from what was to come.

You felt the tip his cock throb against your cunt as he lined himself up behind you, tip leaky with precum as he gave a few furious pumps to his length.

As he pushed in, you let out a small gasp, as you always did, and looked back at him. Your eyes became glassy, vision involuntarily blurred when you saw his face getting closer, his lips capturing yours in a kiss.

It was much like the kiss you both shared moments before— just this time with his cock buried deep inside of you. His kiss proved as an almost well enough distraction from his increasing speed, his cock having no difficulty in finding your cervix.

Pulling away with a bite of your lip, his gaze fell on the string of saliva that still connected you guys as he continued drilling into you.

Observing the small contortions of your face, he couldn't look away even when his hands traveled to your hips to hold you in place. He watched how a small bead of sweat appeared on your head from the heat of the moment and the tiny room you both had to move.

"Fuck Theo, I-" you cried out, your head dipping downwards while he snaked a hand around your shoulder to cover your mouth.

You brought your hand to his, clawing at it in confusion, eyes widening for an answer.

"Shh, shh. There's classes going on, remember? Be considerate..." he murmured. "Can you do that for me?"

In response to your quick nods, he dropped his hand quickly, resuming its former position on your hip. Your whines dissipate, soon replaced by the sound of your ass slapping against his pelvis.

Soon enough, you could feel your orgasming approaching once more, only hoping that this time your boyfriend would let you find the release you so desperately craved. Theodore could tell you were nearing your end by the way your legs began to shake, cunt clenching down on his sliding cock.

"Theo," you breathed out. "Can I- Can I come please? Please, please..."

Part of him wanted to tease— taunt you even, but the pleading in your tone, the shakiness of your voice proved too difficult for him to deny. Especially not for his best girl.

"'Course tesoro. Come all over my cock."

Unable to keep control of yourself, your body went limp, accidentally causing a few bottles to topple again on the shelf that you used for support.

Your cunt was impossibly tight against his cock as you could feel his own release beginning to occur, thick ropes of cum coating your insides without fail. His hips stuttered against you, ragged groans slipping unconsciously from his lips.

"Holy fuck..." he huffed right before chuckling by your ear, his softening cock slipping out of your dripping folds. "See? That was worth skipping Trelawney's, wasn't it?"

The erotic nature of the events that had just occurred finally fell onto you. Just months ago you'd never imagine yourself skipping to have sex with your boyfriend. Nonetheless your boyfriend being Theodore Nott of all people.

But you were here now. And you were his.

[okwonyo]

homeworks, love confessions.

엔하이픈 ୨୧ female reader six hundred tutor!reader au fluff potential future relationship + cw. not proof-read skinship profanity; god ( other )

heeseung

would be so self-conscious; not only about the way he behaves, but also the way he talks. would make sure to not say anything that makes you uncomfortable and whenever he would say something that might have sounded weird, would apologize immediately.

would do everything to have the best grades he can, showing his results to you proudly and taking it as a chance to tell you that you are the best tutor ever. cheeks getting reddish and smile getting shy after you gently praise him.

jongseong

would be such a good listener; writing down all the tips that you tell him, nodding along with a soft smile while you talk and would compliment you by saying that you are a very good teacher— would promise you he’ll so his best on the next exam.

would bring you some snacks for the studying session; knowing somehow what your favorite snacks are. at some point, would even cook some cookies himself and would feel his heart racing when you tell him that they are very good.

jake

would fall, pathetically deeply, into the depths of love as soon as he gaze lands on your unreal visuals— you are beyond pretty and really smart, there is no way he would not be enamored by you. and would be really obvious about it too; giggling and shying away after you would tell him he did great.

would have that cute little habit where his mouth forms into a tiny pout when he doesn’t understand something or is focusing too much. habit which you would find really cute and would contemplate with your head in your hand.

sunghoon

would be an extremely concentrated student; the nose buried in his books and exercises you tell him to do. would get so nervous when he looks at you that he would avoid your eyes and stumble over most of his words whenever he would talk to you.

would, whereupon the tutoring session day has come, get well dressed and hair styled. would, after a while, try to push past his awkward demeanor asking you questions alongside the lines of “have you eaten yet and you, perhaps, like my new hair?”

seonwoo

would not be afraid to ask you any questions; always has a couple of queries to ask you after he had a class of the subject you are helping him with. would be purely amazed about your smart brain, and obvious beauty.

would be so caring, sharing his food with you and fixing your hair whenever he sees that they are a bit messy — which never happens, but he needs to find an excuse to initiate physical touch. although, would not be very hesitant on doing it, you are just too peaceful to be around.

jungwon

would be captivated by you; eyes focused on your face and the way your lips move. would drink every word that fall out from your mouth as if he was a thirsty lamb.

would take the opportunity to compliment you whenever you would break into giggles and ask him what is going on, “i really love your eyes, they are beautiful,” would then tell you continue as if nothing happened right after.

riki

would be extremely giggly and all shy. would think, know even, that you are ethereal and intelligent; which makes you extremely cool in his eyes. god knows he would too mesmerized by you to concentrate on anything else but your pretty face.

would insist on walking with you back home, even though you told him it was no use— with his hand on his heart and leaning towards you a tad, would plead you to let him go with you.

⠀

[princessbrunette]

summer outfits for the readers ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

bunny, kitty, deer:

puppy, mouse, lamb:

[atrocityobsession]

Perverse Manticulation

Hannibal x GN!Reader 😊 obvi an au.

Content warning: stalking, injury, arrests. No smut, not proofread.

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It had been two years since his arrest. You had long since moved many towns away from Baltimore. Immediately after his arrest, you subsequently dropped out of medical school and instead began to pursue a degree in literature. You had also quit your internship at the FBI’s Medical Examiner’s office in favor of the quaint little bookshop run by the sweetest couple you had ever met. You only worked part-time, the payout from the trial being enough to cover any expenses for the next few years. Everyone was humiliated. How could they have let a notorious serial killer be right under their noses, let alone allow him to kidnap not one but two FBI agents? It was a massive scandal. It’d all be over in six more months, and you’d be allowed to leave the state as the criminal investigation was finalized. 

You hummed as you unlocked your apartment. It was small, one bedroom, but you didn’t need anything fancy. After all, you weren’t the one with expensive tastes. You flicked on a lamp near the doorway, slightly illuminating the narrow hallway. It was a little after nine pm. Small taps resounded on the window as the rain grew heavier, and you slipped off your muddy boots. Lightning lashed ominously through the open window. Had you forgotten to close the curtains?

You rushed to shut them, acutely aware that anyone passing by (though, with this rain, maybe not) could see right through into your apartment. You move to put on the kettle. It was the perfect night for a movie and some hot tea. You put the kettle to boil, then pad to your bedroom, not bothering to flick on the light to change into some comfortable clothes, humming to yourself all the while. Lightning strikes again, and you were too busy rushing to get the kettle to notice the figure in your room. As you poured your tea, a voice broke through the silence. 

“Pomegrante this time? Or have your tastes changed?” 

Your blood runs ice cold, and your hand slips, the teacup falling and shattering on the floor. You begin to tremble as you slowly turn toward the source of the voice.

“Well, don’t act so surprised,” he says softly.

He stood, intentionally blocking the way to your front door. His presence commanded your attention, and you felt yourself regressing, his very existence undoing years of therapy. Your heart thudded wildly in your chest, and the world spun around you. You fell to your knees, cutting yourself on the scattered china strewn across your kitchen floor. Hannibal stepped towards you.

“Oh, my little lamb,” He spoke softly, running his hand through your hair. “You must have been so lost without me.”

His tone dripped with false sincerity. You were shaking so violently that the shards of the teacup jingled against the tile. Your mouth had dried up. You were at a loss for words and afraid that if you even opened your mouth to say something, anything, you’d hurl. 

Hannibal tsked disapprovingly at your pathetic form on your knees beneath him. 

“Where did your manners go, lamb? This isn’t any way to greet a guest, especially not me.”

You couldn’t even meet his eyes. Tears began to slip from between your lashes. Hannibal stopped stroking your hair to lift your chin to face him. His predatory red eyes met yours; it felt like he could see through you. 

Your mouth opened and closed rapidly, searching for words that weren’t there. Hannibal swiped a tear away from your cheek with this thumb, a smug smirk playing on his lips. Finally, you stuttered out a question, your voice shaking and cracking.

“How.. how did you find me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Oh, brangusis, I’ll always find you. No matter where you go, I’ll always be there with you.”

From anyone else, the words would be comforting. It was a crushing revelation. 

“Why are you here?” Your voice hoarse.

 Hannibal tutted. “Now, now.. Is that anyway to speak to me?” His fingers tightened around your jaw, causing you to wince in pain. At your slight whimper, Hannibal’s grip loosened. He exhaled deeply. “Lamb, I would never leave you,” He leans down so that your noses nearly touch, mere inches away from your face. “I know you need me.”

He stands, extending a hand to help you off your knees. You take it with a shaky hand. Blood drips from your damaged knees, but you don’t even notice a sting, too enraptured by the man before you. 

“Come now, mažasis,” Hannibal leads you towards the door of your apartment. Only when you’re a foot away do you tug away, reigning in your thoughts. 

“Go with you where?” You ask, your brow furrowed in confusion, wolfsbane fear in your eyes. Hannibal quirks and eyebrow at you, clearly not expecting this amount of pushback. 

“Home,” He states simply as if it were obvious. His eyes daring you to challenge him. You sucked in a breath. 

“My home is here now,” You curse inwardly. The words that were meant to sound brave came out shaky. At this, Hannibal smiles cruelly. 

“No, lamb. This is not your home,” His words come out soft and slow, his voice a deep timbre.. “Your home is with me.” The words come out like a threat. Once again he approaches you, tugging you into a tight embrace, leaning his face down to be in your neck. He’s so tall that you have to stand on your tiptoes just to adjust to his hold. He begins to murmur in your ear.

“Oh, my little love, this isn’t what you want. Don’t fret, precious, I’m here. I know you ache for me, crave what I give you, the things i’ve shown you. I fear you need much more than what a life like this can offer you. We have been too far apart, and nothing can undo how I’ve changed you. You’re made of my rib bone.”

Hannibal strokes your hair as the words sit heavy in your heart. The two of you remain like this momentarily, stuck in time as the rain strikes down hard. Eventually, he breaks apart, once again extending his hand for you to take. 

You take it.

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thanks so much for reading.. i've been sitting on this idea for awhile now, so I decided to make my first fic post. (◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ) ♡

oh and if anything is super inaccurate just let it slide, i haven't done a rewatch in a year.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

hey, could you write headcannons of lemony snicket with & So that dislikes physical affection

lemony skicket x reader headcanons

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • jacques snicket hcs ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

a/n: this fandom is so underrated on here rahh 😤 enjoy love!!

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dating lemony + not liking physical affection would include…

ok ok ok so he met you at a vfd party

and he thought you were the most gorgeous person there

he finally worked up the nerve to talk to you 

and probably said something cryptic about jazz or whatever 

you hit it off and then you didn’t see him for months 

yk since he’s been on the lamb 

but when you finally saw him again you were on a mission 

(he tracked you down to the mountains in iceland)

he gave you a seven page long poem confessing his love to you 

and you have been madly in love ever since 

he isn’t a very touchy person himself

his love language is definitely quality time or words of affirmation 

but at first he would kiss you or put a hand on your waist or grab your hand 

when you told him you didn’t enjoy physical affection he just smiled and said 

‘that’s ok, love, there’s plenty of other ways i can show you i love you’

like he could just sit there and admire you for hours 

you guys will just sit for hours and read on the couch together 

‘(y/n), you are the most beautiful person i have ever seen.’

he enjoys just spending time with you 

like yk the whole ‘i’m having sm fun. but we’re just _____. yeah but we’re together’ thing? 

that’s you two basically

he loves listening to you talk about things you’re passionate about 

and he asks so many questions bro is such a good listener 

‘tell me more (y/n), i want to hear all your thoughts’

always has a hand like hovering behind your back so you know he’s got you 

he is so respectful of you and your boundaries 

‘darling, can i touch you?’

bro is so down bad for you 

when you have to be apart he spends all his—

(ok well first he begs you to stay)

but then he spends all his waking moments writing to you and thinking about you and—y’know you get the point 

he cooks for you 

he said i love you first fs

but you weren’t far behind

you’re just so happy together and you love each other sm xx

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope u liked this love, i am soo sorry this took so long for me to get to! check out my jacques hcs if u enjoyed 🎀

[tinylilacbun]

i have a request! daddy!rafe comforting little!reader from a nightmare, little!reader dont want to sleep alone so rafe take her to his bed and turn the tv on because the background sound of the tv is comforting to her!

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It's rare that you sleep in your playroom, preferring to being cuddled to sleep but today was one of those rare days where you want to prove Rafe that you're a big girl.

Everything went smoothly, you cleaned your room, took your bath, and later Rafe came to tuck you into bed and gave you your goodnight kiss.

It would have gone well if it weren't for a stupid nightmare to ruin it all.

Your eyes snap open, a small gasp leaving your lips. Sitting up in your bed you clutch your lamb to your chest with tears already building up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks.

You start to full on sob while calling out for your daddy and the fact that it was completely dark doesn't help your nerves.

Your breathing quickens, jumping a little when Rafe comes in rushing through the door, the light from the hallway illuminating his figure. He breathes out in relief when he realizes you're not in danger and walks over to your bed, turning on your cloud light that hung over your headboard before sitting down.

"What's wrong?" He asks, reaching a hand out to wipe your tears away.

Instead of answering you just crawled onto his lap, holding onto his shirt tightly and sob into his chest. He wraps an arm around the small of your back, with the other he rubs up and down your back soothingly.

"I'm here now. Shh, you're okay." He murmurs into your hair, kissing your head. "Nightmare?"

You only nod, now wrapping your arms around his neck hiding your face there, crying quietly.

Rafe stays with you in this position for a while until your sobs turn into small sniffles and your breathing gets calmer again.

"There we go. All good now." He sighs and is about to pull you away but you only wrap your arms tighter around his neck with a whimper.

"Don't wanna sweep alone..." You mumble quietly.

"I thought you were a big girl?" He couldn't help but tease making you whine.

"No big, m'baby." You tell him not seeing the way he smirks.

"Okay, let's go to daddy's bed, yea? Gonna protect you there." He promises, standing up with you wrapped around him. Before turning off the light again he makes sure you have your lamb with you.

Carrying you in the master bedroom he carefully lowers you on the bed. He gets in beside you, covering you both with a blanket and reaches for the remote to turn on some documentation about the sea life for background noise.

You wriggle a little closer to him, snuggling back into his chest for safety and smile a little when you feel him kiss the top of your head your eyes fluttering shut.

"You're safe. Nothing will hurt you when I'm here." He whispers, glancing down to see you already dozing off. "You'll always be my baby..."

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Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra