#christian!reader

[viviuxd]

LONGING FOR YOUR LOVE: Emmett Cullen is madly in love with you.

SYPNOSIS: Emmett is madly in love with you, since you walked away he doesn't know how to control himself.

PAIRING: Emmett Cullen x Christian!reader

TW:NONE! it's something soft

You stumbled over a log behind you and fell onto the grass, using your hands to maintain balance.

"Are you okay?" Emmett asked with evident concern in his tone. He bent down to approach you, but you pushed him away with a sudden movement. Despite this, he grabbed your ankle and drew you towards him, ending up just under his body.

"Calm down, I won't hurt you," he assured, delicately caressing your face.

Just before, you were walking and laughing together in the woods. You thought he would finally confess his love to you, as you were sure it was reciprocated. Suddenly, he stood in front of you to reveal that he and his family were vampires. It wasn't the confession you expected, and fear invaded you upon discovering that the boy you liked was a dark being. You tried to escape from him, but now you found yourself in an even more compromising situation.

"Let me go!" you shouted, terrified. "You're a beast, stay away!" Your fear of vampires was immense due to warnings about their danger in the church.

He growled, not out of anger but frustration. "Please, don't say that," he pleaded. "Darling, I've loved you since I first saw you. I would never hurt you," he assured, looking intensely at you.

"I know you fear me for being a vampire, but you know me. In all this time, I've never done anything to harm you, and I won't now."

Even with fear in your eyes, you didn't know whether to believe him. For a year, you were friends, and indeed, he hadn't shown any strange behavior towards you. Your body relaxed a bit as you reflected on his words.

"Come on, little one... I even went to church with you. They liked me," he mentioned with a playful smile. "I even read the Bible with you, I know you love doing that," he said sweetly, moving to help you up.

"I like you too, Emmett," you confessed in a whisper, nervously.

"What did you say?" he asked playfully, knowing he had heard you but enjoying seeing you flustered.

"Nothing," you replied, embarrassed, trying to stand up, but Emmett held you by the waist, gauging his strength to avoid hurting you.

"I love you, little one," he said before giving you a tender kiss on the lips.

Since that day, you started dating. He promised to marry you once you reached the legal age. Until now, you remained a "teenage" couple adored in the church for the mutual love you shared.

[dinodinodin0]

He brought you to me, pretty girl

! ♡ ୧꒰*´꒳*꒱૭ ✧ ！

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: innocent!reader, christian!reader, god kink, worshipping kink, perv!Eddie if you squint, spicy ish, church

This is part one 🤍 part two

You're the sweetest girl in church. You're prim and proper, modest church dress and your hair ties in a high ponytail. Everyone in your church loved you, as you adored helping around even without being asked. You almost worked at the churchat this point.

Leaving church, A sweet old lady who was a church regular stopped you at the doors.

"dear, I appreciate your help here so very much. You have a good head on your shoulders and your parents should be proud. Have a blessed rest of your Sunday, dear" she smiled, gesturing you our of the door as you nodded and smiled back at her.

On the car ride home, your dad piped up.

"y'know honey, were very proud of how seriously you're taking your faith. Have you been staying up to date on your bible study?"

You nod. You've never missed a day of studying, and you could practically resite every bible quote by heart.

"well me and your mom are going to go eat at Enzo's to celebrate my promotion, so you'll have the house to yourself for the night." He says, parking the car for you in your houses driveway.

"are you going to be alright pumpkin?" He asks, closing the car door he'd opened for you.

"I'll be just fine daddy, I have a long night of study ahead of me," you smiled, watching his car drive off and heading into your house.

After a few hours of reading, you head up to your room and change into your pajamas.

You noticed a slight breeze coming from your slightly ajar window, but you didn't mind. You left it open for a reason.

What you hadn't noticed, was your boyfriend Eddie watching you through your thin, lace curtains. He watched you change out of your pretty and prim church dress, and into a delicate white nightgown. It was beautiful. It had a bow in the front of it's sweetheart neckline, a babydoll sillouette that reached just below your ass. You looked like an angel to him, quite fitting of your good-girl churchgoer persona.

You weren't faking, you did truly believe and loved devoting yourself to your faith. The only problem with that was.. you weren't completely honest.

You had just graduated from an all girls Catholic school, so now that you were back home you desided to explore the new Hawkins. While on a walk through some neighborhoods, you noticed some rather... energetic music.. coming from a garage. Your father always told you that this type of music was devils music, but you were so intrigued with it that you couldn't just ignore it.

You stood from afar, peering around a car watching them practice. Then, you noticed the guitar player. His hands, covered in rings, expertly strumming his guitar. His long brown curls bouncing with his movements. He looked.. scary. But.. not in the way that made you want to run away. Some way that made you feel.. weird.

Eventually you approached him, despite your intense anxiety.

"excuse me," you swallowed, "I hope I don't sound impolite, but I had heard your playing a while back and felt very... Intrigued by you."

He chuckled. You were adorable to him. You were obsurdly polite, and quite... Pitiful. Like a baby bunny, scurrying and weak. It was blaringly apparent you were greatly different from him.

"wouldn't expect you to listen to that type of music, little lady." He said, looking down at you with a smug look on his face.

You froze with fear. You were so close to him and he was so.. dominating. It was as if the air changed when he was so near to you, as if even atoms would adhere to his demands if asked.

He lifted your chin with his fingers, "you're blushing an awful lot arnt you? Almost like you want me to ask you on a date. Why else would you be so blushy? Not scared of me... " He got closer, locking his eyes on yours, "are ya?"

You stammered, "no..i-id like that."

After you've been in a few dates, it had become obvious that it was too little for you. You needed something else. The weird feeling you had when you first saw him grew, and it made you press your thighs together every date you had. You fiddled with your fingers, and constantly bit the inside of your cheek, trying to pray this weird feeling away.

He noticed too. But he noticed that you did absolutely everythingthing he aske beforehand. First it was normal things, if he'd asked you to go get him something like a ketchup packet or napkins for him, you'd snap up to go do what he'd asked, immediately. And then, he experimented with being less polite. He went from, 'hey doll, mind getting me a straw?' To 'Get me straw, little girl. Go on.'

Then it wasn't favors. 'fix your hair, you have strsnds in your face,' or increasingly something along the lines of, 'pull your skirt a bit higher for me sweetheart' you didn't always know why he asked certain things, but you did them without question. Happy to comply.

It became apparent just how much you wanted to submit to him, like you were his little desciple, at his every beck and call.

At the end of your last date, he came close to your ear and whispered.

"do you want to worship me, little girl?"

And since then, he had told you to wait in your room the next night after church. He didn't give you a time, but told you not to question him and keep a blind faith.

So now you were in your pretty nightgown, glowing from the moonlight peering through your curtains.

You heard your window slide open, initially startling you, but Eddie stepped into your room and shushed you.

"shh don't worry sweetheart it's just me. I told ya I'd be here."

He put his hand over your mouth and pressed you to his chest, "your parents home?" You shake your head, "good."

He takes his hand off your mouth and turns you around, kissing you.

He breaks your kiss, looking down at you.

"so you said you wanted to worship me, right?"

"yes.. I do.. I'm not sure why but... I'm convinced God sent you to me," you started, as you felt his eyes stare down at you.

"Everytime since the day I saw you.. I've had this weird feeling with me. It's physical. I tried to pray it away, but it never does.. so I think it's him telling me I'm meant to have it around you." You confess, heart beating faster.

"what.. what kind of feeling is it? He asked, bringing his chin to his chest.

"it's... Odd. My hands get all sweaty, my heart beats faster and... The thing that's new is.. a feeling that's down.. there." You say, face flushing bright red.

He tilts his head, confused. Then, it clicks .

"oh my poor girl.. are you feeling that right now?" He asks, crouching down and holding your hands.

Mhm, you nod, neediness washing over you.

"y'know. I think God wants me to take care of that. I think he wants you to do everything I say, so I can help you."

"you do? What do you want me to do then?" You ask, bitting your lip without quite knowing why.

He holds your hand, bringing himself to sit on your bed. He opens his legs and brings you between them.

"to get rid of that feeling, you need to worship me. God brought me you for a reason right? God chose you for me" he says, adding for you to get on your knees and pray.

You start to lower your head and clasp your hands, but he stops you.

"ah ah ah, not like that. You'll pray to me another way, got it?" You holt, embarrassed, and await his next orders.

"what way do you mean then?" You ask, staring up at him.

"it's a new kind of worship you do to people like me. People that give you that feeling." He pets your hair, suddenly grabbing a handful and pulling your head back.

"open your mouth for me"

.-+-.-+-.-+-.-+-.

A/N: AAAAA THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRRYYY, sorry I never get to the actual smut, please let me know if you'd want me to continue it !!! Just felt like it was already too long

Tag list: @rebelcthulhu

[coco-loco-nut]

Revelations

pairing: Daniel x reader

summary: Daniel casually mentions his wife after 11 YEARS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. Danny Ric comeback. 2025 season, he is back on rbr

request are open pookie masterlist part 2

—————————

Being an engineer for Red Bull was something else. You have been with them since you graduated college, and truthfully you never want to leave, the team is your family, having been with them for 11 years.

You met your husband through your job, both starting at the ripe old age of 23, and despite the potential HR violations, Christian Horner practically set the two of you up on a date after being oblivious about each other’s crushes. Thus began Red Bull’s best kept secret.

“Happy 10 years, Danny,” you kiss your husband, him watching you analyze data. Christian made him promise to never use you as a mole, and the two of you very quickly agreed. Even when he was on Renault and McLaren, work talk was kept quiet. Daniel had a great season last year and was brought back to Red Bull Racing, Christian promoted you to be his race engineer, knowing Daniel would listen to you.

“Happy 10 years, my love,” he hugs you tight. Your children are home in Australia with their grandparents for the weekend.

“Good morning, Ricciardos. Happy wedding anniversary,” Christian greets you, sitting for the pre-race meeting. Christian celebrates your wedding anniversary almost as much as you do, but he is a part of the family. He officiated your wedding at this track 10 years ago today, and he is the godfather of your eldest.

“Good morning, I printed out some data sheets so we can determine strategy. I noticed some unusual tyre degradation, while it could be from the unusually high track temperatures yesterday, it is something we should plan for today,” you start, passing out the papers. Daniel will never not be able to admire you. Sometimes he misses what people say because he stares at you, the exact reason Christian helped get you two together.

“Let’s grab some coffee then go on a track walk,” Daniel holds his hand out to you after the strategy meeting, you happily take it. After your lap around the track, you meet with the other engineers while Daniel warms up and does media. As you are watching the F2 race for valuable data, someone from PR comes over to you.

“Watch this clip,” she says and you oblige.

Daniel, you seem in better spirits than usual, care to share?

I don’t know mate, I am usually a pretty happy person.

Here I was thinking that maybe you finally had a girlfriend

Nah, I don’t think my wife would be happy about that… I wasn’t really supposed to say that. If you are watching, sorry! I’ll make it up to you, love.

Well, I hope there isn’t a couch in your future. Good luck today.

Thanks, but she’s put up with me for 11 years, I doubt there will be a couch in the future.

“Oh, he might have the couch tonight,” you laugh a little, honestly surprised it took 11 years for him to accidentally say something.

“Looking back at all the photos, he is wearing a wedding ring, how did we not see that?” You hear one of the Mercedes drivers say outside the garage.

“You saw the video?” Daniel asks as you playfully glare at him.

“I did. I have a winning strategy for you, so maybe you can move off the couch tonight. Lose and you stay there longer,” you tease. Being his race engineer helps so much because you can subtly say things and no one picks it up, and any interactions between you seem normal.

“Yes, Mrs. Ricciardo,” he smiles and goes to get changed for the race.

Last car in, good luck Daniel

I don’t need luck, I have you guiding my race

Ok, Daniel, whatever you say

The strategy works out well, and planning for the hotter heat was a smart move. Christian hasn’t told you not to race with Max, so you push Daniel for the overtake.

“Come on, honey badger,” you whisper. Daniel has had the better strategy and better pacing, all day so he easily overtakes and keeps the lead through the final five laps.

Okay Daniel, last lap, Verstappen behind, keep the pace.

Does this mean I’m off the couch?

Focus.

Sorry.

And that’s P1, P1 very good, Daniel. Red Bull 1-2. You are officially off of the couch.

LET’S GO! Thank you team! I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Thanks for the brilliant strategy, and for letting me off the couch. Best wife ever.

Mhmm. Happy 10 years. Parc Ferme is clear for you, pull in so the team can celebrate.

Let’s just say that F1 TV streaming your radio broke the internet, and the drivers when they all got out of their cars and into the garages. You followed the team to wear Daniel was parking and the team pushed you to the front. Daniel celebrated there with the team, taking his helmet off and kissing you. The team wolf whistles around you.

“Go to the podium, we will celebrate with you there,” you push him in the direction of where he needs to go. Unknowingly to Daniel, Red Bull chooses you to represent them for the Constructors Trophy.

“Mate, how did you keep that a secret?” Oscar asks Daniel in the debrief room.

“It wasn’t much of a secret. Everyone in Red Bull knows most of the relationship,” Max says and Daniel nods along.

“Honestly, I don’t know how people didn’t know,” Daniel laughs. The FIA tells them to start heading out to the Podium and Daniel searches the crowd for you when he steps out, but can’t find you. He’s shocked but extremely delighted when you step out and stand beside Oscar for the Constructors trophy. The mischievous glint in his eye is a loud warning that you will be sprayed with champagne. You happily stand through the national anthems, clap when Daniel is handed the trophy, and beam with joy as you are handed the second trophy. Soon enough you are presented with champagne and the go ahead to spray it is given.

“Max!” you squeal and hide behind him as you both spray Daniel.

“Quit hiding my wife!” Daniel laughs and in a split second, your cover is gone as Max moves to spray Oscar. You and Daniel both pour the champagne in each other’s mouth.

“Ew, that’s almost as bad as if you guys were to kiss,” Max laughs. Daniel gives you a devilish smile, pulling you close to him and capturing you lips with his.

“The kids are going to be so grossed out,” you laugh and Oscar looks almost horrified.

“THE KIDS?!”

[zephyrchama]

It was dinnertime in the House of Lamentation. Conversation petered out as everyone focused on the hot food in front of them, leaving a quiet lull interrupted only by clinking silverware.

“I’ve always wanted a traditional church wedding,” you said, entirely unprompted.

The clinking came to a stop as the seven brothers processed what you had just said. They turned their eyes towards you.

Beelzebub was the first to break the silence despite his mouth full of food. “Huh?”

“I just always thought it would be nice. A quaint wedding in a nice little church. Maybe a chapel.”

Leviathan briefly choked on what he was chewing.

“Oh I totally get it!” Asmodeus empathized. “Rows of pews with white flowers, those high arched ceilings, the evening light of the human world sun shining on us through a beautiful stained glass window as we kiss? Oh!” He clutched his shoulders, “it gives me chills just imagining it!”

“Asmo, we can’t enter churches,” Satan stated matter-of-factly. The knife handle gripped in his fist started to bend.

“Hah!? What? Lucifer, is that true?” Mammon slammed his fork down and just about jumped out of his chair as he shouted at the oldest.

“Sit down, Mammon.” Lucifer rubbed his temple and tried to perform damage control before the inevitable headache set in. “What brought this on suddenly?” he asked you.

Keeping a straight face was immensely difficult but you pulled it off. “I was just thinking about weddings and stuff, y’know. It’d be nice. Ever since I was little I thought a church wed-”

Belphegor interjected with “You’re not even that religious.”

A flood of complaints washed over the table as everyone started loudly protesting.

“You… You’re not allowed to get married anywhere without me!” Leviathan shouted.

“Does it have to be a church? What about a restaurant instead?” Beel suggested, looking worried. “I know a lot of pretty ones.”

“We could build a mock church in a studio and get married there,” Asmo fantasized. “The stained glass could be you and me as cherubs, we can ask Luke to be the flower boy. He’d be so cute in a little tux!”

“You wouldn’t even need a ceremony with me,” Belphegor said. “If you really want one, we can have it outdoors under the stars.”

Satan’s knife was bent at a 90-degree angle. “What a stupid thing to say. Libraries are just as quiet and nice as churches. Probably. They sure suit you better than a church.” 

“The restaurants also have in-house catering,” Beel continued.

“That ain’t gonna happen!” Mammon bounced his knee, shaking the entire table as he lamented, “I ain’t lettin’ my human get married in some church! We can go anywhere you want! Anywhere else!”

”There’s a church in my game!” Leviathan gasped. He thought an in-game wedding would be just as good as a real one. “I can show you! We can go now! Lets make you a character!”

Lucifer cleared his throat once. Then twice. The third time was a warning that got lost amid all of the whining. “Enough,” he finally growled. The room went silent for him. “You’re not getting married in a church. End of discussion.”

“Oh.” Weird of him to decide that on his own, but you were at your limit. A wide grin had already spread across your face. “Yeah, ok. By the way this roast you made is delicious.”

[evie-sturns]

𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙙𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙥 - 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙤

summary: you, the sturniolos, madi and nate are all going on a roadtrip down to new jersey. execpt theres one problem, there's not enough space in the car. you're forced to sit on chris's lap for the 5 hour car ride, you just can't seem to get comfortable though.

contains: smut, teasing, dom!chris, swearing, fluff.

-----------------------°°••....••°°--------------———

the sturniolos have been my closest friends for a while, especially chris, with who ive have grown closer then ever to over the past few years. today is the day that my friend group travel down to new jersey for the summer break.

12:36pm

"y/n get your ass down here!" chris calls out from the driveway, i stumble over, clutching my baby pink suitcase with one hand as i swing open the door of chris's bedroom, which i've slept in last night.

i sprint downstairs, my suitcase smashing into walls behind me while i lock eyes with madi. i run up to her and a loud laugh escapes her mouth "oh my god your suitcase is basically bursting at the seams."

"shut up, im a chronic over-packer." i joke, walking downstairs into the driveway. matt, nick and nathan are watching chris strategically stack suitcases in the trunk. chris's tounge is slightly peaking out of his mouth as he concentrates.

"can we fit one more?" i say chirpily, walking over to the group of boys while dragging my suitcase behind me. chris takes it off me, sliding into its designated spot between the various bags.

"okay tetris king" nick scoffs, jumping in the passenger seat of the car.

before i know it, everyones piled into the car. matt in the drivers seat, nick in the passenger, madi in the far-right backseat, nathan in the middle and chris on the left backseat.

i open the door to the car, theres no more seats.

"oh fuck me." i mumble, folding my arms and waiting for someone to speak up.

"she could go ontop of the car, grip onto the windshield." matt suggests with a smirk on his face, earning a elbow to the bicep from nathan, who leans foward.

after a few more seconds of silence, i break it. "i could try fit in the trunk, theres a little room ontop of the suitcases.."

"y/n no. thats not safe, i dont care you can sit on my lap." chris says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

i nod, pursing my lips as i crawl in the car, planting myself down on chris's lap. my cheeks instantly flush.

i've never thought about chris romantically, hes always been a platonic best friend. i know he doesn't like me, he doesn't really like many girls in general.

"chris.. im gonna be too heavy." i mumble, purposley putting a small amount of my weight on his lap.

"don't be an idiot." chris chuckles, grabbing my hips and pressing me down, forcing all my weight on his lap. i clear my throat, "are you sure i don't want to squash you."

"hey, i said don't be an idiot." chris says, sitting back in the seat comfortably.

-

3:21pm

we've been driving for almost three hours, i've been just laying back on chris's chest, resting my head back on his shoulder with my eyes shut. nate, madi and nick have been in a debate for an hour if hot or cold pizza is better.

its been entertaining to say the least.

after nick and nate draw the debate to a close a new conversation sparks up from madi.

"have you guys ever fell off the waterslide platform?" she says, a silence fills the car.

"you know how you have to climb up stairs to get up to the waterslide, and you wait on the little platform to wait your turn to go down?" madi questions, we all nod slowly.

"yeah have you guys fell off?" madi continues.

"madi..." matt says from the front in a low voice, i can hear the smile on his face.

i errupt into giggles, my body vibrates on chris's lap as i lean foward, taking my back off of chris's chest.

everyone else in the car laughs, including chris. his lap lightly bounces up and down with each noise that comes out of his mouth, causing me to shift out of place.

i shimmy my ass back into a comfortable position on chris, an audible groan escapes his mouth, my eyebrows furrow and my head snaps back to look at chris, his cheeks are flushed, as soon as we lock eyes he looks out the window, squeezing his eyes shut out of sheer embarrassment.

"chris," i whisper, looking over my shoulder at him. "whats wrong am i too heavy.."

just then i feel something poke my upper thigh. my eyes pratically bulge out of my head as i stare at chris. everyone else in the car is too engulfed in their own conversation to notice me and him.

"im really sorry." chris squeezes out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"its just your shifting on my lap, i can ask matt to pull into a gas station and ill fix it in the bathrooms-" he rambles quietly into my ear.

"don't worry about it chris!" i say smiling, shifting side to side on his crotch while maintaining eye contact with him.

"stop that." chris mumbles, the tent in his sweatpants growing by the second.

"you like it christopher."

chris's breathing picks up, "fuck."

i press more of my weight down onto chris's bulge with a smirk, i turn back around to face the back of matt's seat, continuously grinding into chris.

i suddenly hear chris’s voice from behind me

“how much longer do you guys reckon we have left?” he asks, his voice wobbling slightly.

“honestly like 20 seconds, we’re pulling into the street now” matt awnsers from the front, him and nicks eyes still concentrated on the road ahead as madi and nate cackle with each other

i continue rubbing chris with my ass, i feel two large hands grip my hips, holding me still harshly.

i pout as i look over my shoulder at chris, his response sends chills down my back.

“i will take away your ability to walk as soon as we’re alone.” he whispers into my hair from behind me.

we swing a left into the long driveway of the beach house we’re staying at, it’s two stories and looks modern to say the least.

as soon as the car stops chris throws me off him out of the door of the vehicle, speed walking up to the front door and unlocking with the key he just retrieved from the mailbox.

i watch as he disappears inside “where the fuck is chris?” i hear nick say while pushing up the trunk door. “he had to pee really bad.” i lie, knowing he ran to the bathroom to help himself out instead.

matt hands me my suitcase with a smile, and i walk up to the front door, which is already half open from chris. i walk upstairs to the room chris and i already decided we would share, long before the road trip ever started.

im met with a double bed, along with a window with a clear view of the beach. i get changed into the sluttiest skirt i can find and a long tank top before walking downstairs, i pull my phone out of my bag to check the time.

6:13

all of my friends are playing cards around the wooden dining table, but chris is sitting on the couch alone, scrolling on his phone. a loud cheer comes from nick as he slams down his card onto the table.

i flop down next to chris, my skirt flapping up slightly. “whatcha up to?” i ask innocently, acting like i wasn’t dry humping him a hour ago.

“nothing just instagram.” he replies placing his phone down on the armrest before looking over at me, locking eyes with chris sends butterflies through my body.

chris quickly stands up, taking my hand and pulling me upstairs, he slams the door to the bedroom shut behind us

“what were you doing in the car hm?” chris taunts, grabbing my wrists and pushing me down onto the bed.

“grinding up on me, giving me a painful erection around all my friends?”

“mmhm..” i groan backwards as chris grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him as my back lays steadily on the bed.

“did i ask you to do that.” he says, staring into my eyes “or did you just wanna be fucked so badly that you couldn’t wait.”

i was in a state of shock, the good kind of shock though. my bestfriend of mutiple years has me pinned to the bed.

“gonna act like a slut, gonna be treated like one. got it?” chris mumbles, practically tearing my skirt off of my body. he yanks my panties down to my ankles in one motion.

chris pulls my body to the edge of the bed, my legs are wrapped around his waist as my heat presses lightly against his crotch. suddenly he bends down between my legs and blows cool air directly onto my sensitive clit, earning a groan of pleasure and desperation from me.

"more.." i manage to squeeze out, "you're gonna get more." chris says, standing up from between my legs and yanking down his sweatpants to his knees. "be quiet for me yeah?" he groans, rubbing his throbbing tip through my folds.

"i will stop if you get too loud okay?"

i nod frantically, spreading my legs open as far as they can go, revealing myself to chris.

his breathing picks up "ready..?" he stammers, his words incoherent.

"please.." i sigh out shakily, gripping the bedsheets in my fists so tight my knuckles grow white.

with full force chris slams inside of me, bruising my cervix. a loud yelp escapes my mouth as chris looks down at me, some-what checking if i'm okay.

i feel myself stretch around his length, the burning sensation still present. chris grips my hand, intertwining our fingers before thrusting in and out.

i feel each vein of his cock press against my insides. his thrusts grow sloppy and unhinged. strings of moans escape my mouth, chris slams his free hand over my mouth, shoving a finger inside in the process.

i clench around chris, before the knot in my stomach snaps he pulls out, "chris!" i yell in frustration, feeling empty. "shh sh." he shushes me, flipping me over onto all fours,

"quit making noises gorgeous, or none of this will happen again."

he pushes back inside of me, a familiar feeling. i let out a hum of pleasure as chris pushes on my mid back, arching my back. the sound of skin slapping fills the room as i bury my head in the pillow to muffle my sounds.

"good girl.." chris's voice his croaky, his dick twitches inside of me, signalling he's close.

i clench around him for the second time this evening, the pit in my stomach releases with a scream of his name.

chris pulls out, painting my back white "fuuckk..."

he collapses down beside me, pulling me onto his chest with a long hug. "you okay?" he whispers into my hair, his voice breathy.

i nod against his neck, he taps my hip "should we get you changed?"

i hum in response, chris sits up, holding me in a bridal position and walking over to the heaped pile of clothes on the floor, he sets me down on my feet my legs are numb and weak causing me to stumble over.

"careful there." chris laughs, holding me up. "okay, just step through.." he says, pulling my panties up my legs. the rest of my clothes follow, he steps back proudly before pulling up his sweatpants and throwing a shirt on.

"you look cute" chris smiles stupidly, nudging my elbow.

we both walk back downstairs, the rest of the group are scattered in a circle on the floor, playing monopoly. we go sit down and join our friends, the whole time chris is staring at me like he wasnt inside of me 4 minutes ago.

(2 weeks later)

it's the last day of our holiday, me and chris have had a few makeout sessions on the beach, alone. we haven't hooked up again, both realising it's too risky to do in a beach house with 4 other people in the small house.

I'm sat on the grass next to the driveway, observing as chris loads up the car strategically. before i can open my mouth to make a snarky comment about chris's concentration, matt, nick, madi and nate swing open the front door, all their bags in hand.

they all pile into the car again, chris follows, slamming the trunk door shut and jumping in, a small smirk tugs at my lips as chris pats his lap for me to sit down.

i sit down on his lap, nostalgia washes over me, remembering the outcome of last time i sat on his lap in this exact spot.

matt pulls out of the driveway,

its not even been 5 minutes and i'm already grinding on chris through his shorts.

-----------------------°°••....••°°--------------———

omfg i really hope yall liked this, i think one of my best so far, also dont come for me if new jersey isnt a beachy type state, i have NO idea about states my bad, js pretend it is.

@lovingchrissposts @lolasturniolo @ilovedasturniolos

[natailiatulls07]

A Redbull girl

2023 formula one grid & female!driver!reader (mainly redbull)

Summary - Summer break is over and the redbull family is back together

Warning - None, Y/n gets drunk?

Part 2

Reader drives for Redbull

-

yourusername

One last summer dump before we return to the tracks

Liked pierregasly and 38,976 others

username I want to be her.

username The way that everything she does is perfect 🤭

f1 Can't wait to see you again!!

maxverstappen1 Why? just why?

= yourusername Because I can 😌

username She is going to smash everyone out for the first place position I just know it, mark my words.

= username Thats redbull for you, brings out the best drivers!

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n L/n, one of redbull's drivers, has arrived in Zandvoort, Netherlands only two days before the official race weekend

Liked by username and 4,786 others

username I am so excited to see more redbull Y/n content!

username Even when she hasn't done any makeup or her hair is a mess, she still looks fucking amazing!!

username I love her so much

maxverstappen1

Went out clubbing before the race weekend, it's safe to say that Y/n got the most drunk lol

Liked by charles_leclerc and 45,378 others

username The budlight box 💀

yourusername I am definitely feeling the consequences

= landonorris You thought fernando was tom cruise 😅

= username TOM CRUISE 🤣

carlossainz55 It was a great night though

= estebanocon You can say that again!!

yourusername posted a story

redbullracing

Summer break done and our favourites are back!!

Liked by christianhorner and 35,826 others

username So excited! They are my favourite trio!!

username She's Barbie and they're just ken

username Oh how I miss these guys ☺️

danielricciardo We're back baby

= yourusername Watch out everyone this season will be our season!!

= maxverstappen1 Always is!

yourusername

One and two for Redbull once again,

Liked by maxverstappen1 and 53,982 others

username Congrates babes!

gerihalliwellhorner Totally deserves it girl, looking forward to the bbq 😘

= yourusername Thank you Mother Spice, can't wait to see you 😆

christianhorner A job well done 👏🏻

username I love the whole redbull family dynamic!

christianhorner

Had the Redbull family over for a bbq, loved using my new grill 🥩

Liked by yourusername and 32,754 others

yourusername Thank you so much, loved our gossip session Mother Spice 💅

= gerihalliwayhorner Ofc we need to do it more often!

danielricciardo Thank you Horner family, thank you for making sure Y/n didn't get flat out drunk again lol

username The Horner/Redbull family is thriving!!

maxverstappen1 Thank you! Can't wait for the next!

[saturncodedstarlette]

Adam : You know what would be sexy? Eating food off each other *wiggles eyebrows*

Y/N : . . .

Adam : :)

Y/N : You didn’t do the dishes.

Adam : Not a single plate.

[makeyoumine69]

Love ur writing it always makes me so happy when you post

For the celebration can you do breeding, belly bulge, and loss of innocence/virginity please 🥵🥵

Obsession

◥ PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

◥ SUMMARY: When your father told you that you were going to marry the son of his biggest business partner, named Patrick Bateman, you didn't believe him at first, but eventually you had to face reality and accept your destiny.

◥ WARNINGS: Smut, hurt /comfort, forced marriage, forced pregnancy (kinda), loss of virginity, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, nipple play/tit sucking, teasing, vaginal sex, creampie, belly bulge, Breeding kink, Praise kink, Innocent kink, Size kink, sweet dirty talk, multiple orgasms, humiliation, manipulation, pet names, horny hubby!Patrick Bateman himself.

◥ WORDCOUNT: 4.1k

◥ SONG REC: Mariah Carey - Obsessed🖤

◥ A/N: Finally, I managed to finish this prompt. I really enjoyed writing it, thank you so much for this request, I hope you like it!

◥ LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [BWC MASTERLIST].

You were so scared and lost that you couldn't really believe it was happening - you wished that marrying Patrick Bateman was just a dream... but it wasn't. It all felt so real when after the super luxurious wedding, you rode in his limo to the Plaza Hotel for your first night together. Because the whole situation between the two of you was so rushed, you didn't even have time to get to know each other better, your father was too impatient and he wanted this marriage to happen as soon as possible. However, you remembered Patrick since you were children and all the girls around were always so charmed by him, even when he was just a little cheeky boy.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Patrick suddenly asked, placing his large palm on your knee. 

With a sharp gasp, you shrugged from his unexpected touch and turned to face him, holding for a moment to admire his beautiful, brown eyes. 

“Nothing.” You replied, breaking eye contact with him once you noticed you were staring at him for too long. 

You heard him letting out a tired sigh, and then Bateman tried to cuddle with you a bit, wrapping his arm around your slightly shaking shoulders. “I know that everything seems to be a bit messy but…”

"It doesn't seem like it, but it really is," you looked at him again, his face so close to yours that you had to hold your breath. "Literally…everything."

"Baby, please. Don't interrupt me, okay?" Patrick tried his best to be patient and polite, but you could feel his hand tightening on your back with each passing moment. "Things are really messed up, but I want to assure you – if you can be a good wife, I'll be a great husband to you. That sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?"

Shivering from being so close to him, you almost writhed in your seat when you felt his searing lips brushing behind your ear as he murmured something soft, something soothing, but you couldn't concentrate as the meaning of his words slipped away from you like a leaf in the wind.

“Pat-Patrick, actually … there’s one thing I didn’t tell you yet,” you mused nearly audible. “You know, I’ve never been close with anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

As soon as you opened your mouth to respond, the limo stopped and you both looked into the window to see the beautiful illumination of the Plaza. 

“Oh thank God, we’re finally here … I really hate NY in this time of the day, because of these fucking traffic jams.” 

Bateman’s rants still resound behind your back even when you got outside. Gently, he held your waist for support as you moved to the entrance to the grand hotel, your hand kept fixing the hem of your massive dress. 

It was not surprising that Patrick chose a luxury presidential suite for you, with large rooms and high ceiling above. You couldn't hide your fascination and that made him smirk loftily whilst he was helping you to remove your half-coat. Little by little, you moved to what was supposed to be a living room and took a seat on the huge black leather couch, suppressing growing anxiety inside your chest. 

“Do you like this place?” Patrick looked at you before letting out a short whistle, removing his jacket. 

“Yes, it’s really nice.” Smiling timidly, you clutched at the skirt of your dress once you saw him coming closer. 

“Uh, you always loved fancy things, darling,” he sat next to you, throwing his leg over another and placing his hand on the back of the couch, almost touching your shaky shoulders. “Well, nothing's too good for my wifey.”

His kiss on your lips was so sudden that it sent a million chills down your spine, causing your lungs to cramp from the lack of oxygen. At first, you clawed frantically at his solid biceps as you felt his hot tongue slide against your mouth in a demanding manner. You jolted once you gave him what he wanted, because this kiss was nothing compared to the one you shared at the wedding - it was much more passionate, but still you couldn't relax.

“Pat-Patrick, please … wait,” you whispered as your voice shook, searching for his brown eyes which now were dark as a midnight sky. “You must know one very important thing.”

“What is it, my dear?” 

"I'm..." you stuttered from the way he was staring at you, his hungry gaze literally eating you alive. "I'm a virgin, Patrick."

He frowned for a moment, then laughed uproariously before pulling up the hem of your dress, messing with its countless layers. "You can't be serious."

His reaction really embarrassed you, so you just pushed his big palm away and got up, leaving him on the couch with a disappointed grimace on his face.

"Hey! Where are you going?" He asked annoyingly, his golden Rolex wiggling on his wrist as he raised his hands in confusion.

"I want to get off this dress and change into something else," you complained, trying to reach the ties at the back of your dress to undo them. "I hate it!"

It was as if he hadn't even noticed your ranting when he rejoined you: "And what about that guy from college who was hovering around you like a fucking shark? Poor guy missed his chance to get a bite of a delicious pie like you?"

Gritting your teeth, you shrugged at the unpleasant sensation and shouted: "Don't you dare talk about him like that!"

He chuckled again, in his natural haughty way. "He was always a loser, and I always knew you would be mine."

You were almost done with the ties, but as soon as you heard his last words, you froze, feeling something snap in your mind. "What did you just say?"

Bateman's grin grew even wider as you turned to face him, with an unhidden dread in your eyes. "I said I always get what I want..." He stood up and walked over to the large coffee table near the couch, taking a glass and pouring some red liquid into it. "Wine?"

When you didn't answer, he took a sip of alcohol before continuing his malicious confession: "As you probably remember, my dear (Y/N), my father wanted me to marry," with every word he said, Patrick was slowly closing the distance between the two of you. "And he also wanted me to have an heir. The American dream family, that really works best for a good social reputation".

He paused, standing almost face to face with you, you could feel his expensive perfume enveloping you like a mist. “And?” 

Your curiosity made him sneer with delight, so he cupped your cheek and looked down at you, murmuring softly as if trying to lull you into a fake sense of comfort. "And then there was a business meeting with your father where I remembered you as the ideal candidate to be my wife," he smiled almost lovingly, stroking your cheekbone and placing a tender kiss on your temple. "Too bad you couldn't see the look on your father's face when we talked about it, he was as happy as if he'd won a fucking billion dollars."

Stifling the immense pain in your heart, you closed your eyes and almost fell into his embrace from the feeling of being so miserable in this selfish world. His words only proved your thoughts about being just a figure in another chase game of your dad, and according to what Bateman just told you - your father won a jackpot by forcing you to marry the son of his biggest business partner.

“But to be fair, I didn’t expect to be that lucky …” he murmured before pulling you closer, his hands traveling around your lower back. “… to get such an innocent flower.”

When Patrick kissed you on lips again, you didn’t even struggle as the dark void inside your soul was consuming all of your thoughts and feelings, leaving you completely empty. With no rush, Bateman was undoing the rest of the ties on your dress as if he was unwrapping his most desirable gift. Your throat shivered in a choked gasp, as your body was traitorously responding to each touch he made, especially when his large palms ran across your boobs to give them a slight squash. 

"Baby, you don't have to be afraid of me." His suddenly charming voice sounded like honey, so sweet and stringy. 

"I'm not afraid," you stared up at him, catching his hands that were now caressing your thighs. "I'm so... so fucking disappointed."

"It's understandable."

"But not for you," you scowled a bit, biting your lip to keep the salty tears from welling up in your eyes. "I'm just a toy for you... just like for my beloved father."

Suddenly Patrick's eyebrows knitted, making him look a little frustrated. "No, you're not."

"Enough lies," you wanted to push him away, but he only held you tightly, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. "This is all so fake!"

"Maybe everything around us is fake, but we are not..." he gently traced a finger along your cheek, moving down to outline your trembling lips. "We're real, and when I said I'd take care of you, it wasn't a lie."

The way he looked at you was literally captivating, it caught you off guard and you couldn't help but breathe out sharply as his plump lips nestled against the sensitive spot on your neck. 

"Pat... Patrick," your hands clung to his shoulders as you desperately searched for protection, and your inner nature told you that he could do it - his strong arms were like a shield between you and the whole world. "I really want to make it work, but..."

Bateman didn't allow you to finish, pressing his thumb against your mouth and then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing as he walked into the big, fashionable bedroom. Shaking slightly, you closed your eyes from the sense of unreality that clouded your mind like the strongest alcohol.

Did he just say he was going to take care of you? 

The man you had always known as a total egoist, who loved no one but himself, now covered your small frame from above as he laid you on the king-size bed, planting little kisses on your cheek before settling on his knees, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his white shirt.

"You look gorgeous, (Y/N)," he mused, taking your leg to peck at your ankle, causing your back to arch at his unexpected tenderness. "As you always do."

Cautiously, Patrick slid down your luxury wedding dress, exposing your bare skin that was not hidden under your beautiful white lingerie - just a glimpse of it made him swallow hard, and when you gave him your most innocent look, he licked his lips briefly as his nostrils began to turn red.

Panting barely audibly, Bateman stood on the floor to remove his clothes, not wasting a moment to admire your embarrassed face, the more naked he became, the more noticeably you began to fidget.

"Come here, darling." He purred like a cat and beckoned you over to sit on the edge of the bed.

There was something sweet about him, as all the girls always said when they saw him, which was probably the reason why you couldn't resist him as you obeyed and knelt beside him, waiting for his next move.

“Babydoll,” he stroked your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes again from the blissful sensation of his warm palm. “Tonight, I’m gonna guide you into the world of pure pleasure … ”

You shuddered at his promise as your insides tightened like a spring - that strange sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You'll never be the same after this, sweetheart." Bateman crooned, wrapping his hand around your neck, not to hurt you, but to make you feel his unspoken dominance.

“A-ahh,” your low moan caressed his ears and that was one of the most delighted things he ever heard. “What do you want me to do?”

Your hasty question impelled him to humm in absolute adoration, as Patrick drew near your mouth to kiss you hungirly, never in your life someone was kissing you like that, sucking on your lips one by one and biting them a bit, making you literally melt in his strong arms.

"Be yourself, (Y/N)," he whispered into your ear, hugging your shoulders before pushing on them determinedly, and now you were sprawled on the bed beneath him. "You're incredible just the way you are."

Trembling, you wanted to scream as his words worshiped your broken soul, even if he was only doing it to befuddle you and get what he wanted - in that moment, you didn't care as the strange, burning desire grew from the inside, corrupting your innocent mind by the second.

Delicately, Bateman darted his soft fingers against your belly, sliding them up to your heavy breasts, teasing your nipples with light strokes, you gasped from that contact, creasing the blanket and spreading your legs that allowed him to rest himself more comfortably. 

“Good girl,” he praised you and pulled down the straps of your lingerie to expose your extremely hard peaks. “Mmm … my sweet, little girl.” He gave one of them a few licks, before he took it into his hot mouth, sucking it with pure delight. 

“A-aww, Gosh … ” You wailed and enfolded your arms around his head, not even realizing you were pressing him closer. 

Patrick exhaled a muffled groan and switched to your other nipple, swirling his wet tongue around it so deliciously that the tight knot in your lower abdomen was begging to be released.

“Patrick! P-Patrick please!”

“Mmm, honey, you have amazing tits,” he huffed and trapped your swollen tip between his sharp, white teeth, forcing you to freeze in silent moan of pleasure. Seizing the moment, he sneaked his long fingers between your legs to grope your taut lower lips. “Fuck, you’re soaking wet and we have only just started.”

Breathing heavily, you look up at him from under your lashes with your dazed eyes, feeling his soft finger pads slide up and down your feverish pussy. Bateman stared back at you, smirking in his arrogant way, especially when you jerked beneath him as he slipped a thumb inside your panties and pressed it against your sensitive nub.

"No one's ever touched you like this before?" Patrick asked, rubbing your clit steadily, forcing you to bend your legs into knees to give him more space to play with. 

You tossed the pillows around to cover your face and just nodded, feeling his ministrations becoming more and more insistent, you didn't know how long you could stand it. 

"Mmm, does that feel good, baby?" He watched you from above, admiring the view of your trembling body as his fingers slid over your cunt like clockwork, making obscene, sleek noises.

"A-arrh, yes ... mmm ... so good."

To be fair, Bateaman knew what you were going to say before you answered, because he was absolutely confident in his sex skills, and you would remember this night for a long time.

First, he left a light kiss on your side, passing your rib bones as he descended to your mound, leaving a wet trail of hickeys. Fondly, Patrick opened your hips wide apart, and he had to hold them securely as he pushed your underwear aside. You winced because you knew what he was going to do, and when he finally latched his plump lips against your blushing clit, you didn't know whether to stop him or explode right here - his skilled tongue left you with no choice. 

"Mm-mmhm, ohhh God, I can't... I can't, Patrick! It's too much," you writhed on the bed, the tension in your womb too intense for you to bear. "P-Please ... ah, please ..."

Uncertain of what you were pleading for, you let him strap your legs over his broad shoulders as he lapped at your cunt without stopping, sucking your burning flesh and consuming your sweet juices like his favourite dessert. You were so fucking close to combustion when a sudden sharp pain ripped through your body, causing you to shriek in agony.

"Shh, it's all right ... I need to prep you, (Y/N)," he smooched the inside of your hip, slowly pushing his thin fingers into your spasming cleft. "Hang in there, baby. Will you do it for me?"

His voice was so soothing, so convincing. As you wiped away your tears, you saw him offer you a hand and you took it, letting your fingers intertwine. Patrick interpreted this gesture as a 'yes' and the next moment his lips found their way back to your clit, flicking it with his warm tongue and sparingly pumping your pussy with his expert fingers.

As much as he attempted to be gentle, it was still painful as he plunged deeper with each passing second.  "Mmm, I..." you stammered as you felt him add another finger. "I'm scared, Patrick."

"Don't be," Bateman mused after tugging on your little tip with a squelch, slowly twisting his digits and looking at you from between your legs. "As long as you're a good girl for me, you've got nothing to worry about."

Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes from the stinging sensation of your shimmering tears. You knew there was no going back, you belonged to this man now and he could do whatever he wanted with you. Still, you tried to believe him, it might be naive and stupid, but... you just couldn't deny your sympathy towards him, especially when he treated you so kindly and lovingly.

Maybe one day you would regret it, but for now all you could do was whimper loudly and writhe on the king-size bed in the most expensive suite at the Plaza Hotel as your lawful husband was about to make you his, now and forever.

After a while, your taut body couldn't take any more of the crazy mix of pain and ecstasy that was intoxicating your mind - you orgasmed so vividly that you were afraid you were going to pass out from the feeling of your inner walls pulsating again and again.

"Yes ... just like that, honey," Patrick murmured, his fingers still pounding into your spasming cunt, prolonging your climax and it seemed you were about to cum again. "Ahhh, baby, you make me so proud."

"Patrick..." your chest rose and fell so abruptly that your face burned from the heat, as if someone had poured hot tea on you. "Mmm..."

You only managed to squeak out as Bateman suddenly rolled you over, forcing you to stay on your knees as he sat behind you. Shit, he was so huge, you felt so tiny in his arms, especially when he wrapped them around you to plant a sloppy kiss on your neck, he could feel the artery beating so fast.

"You'll like it, believe me," he chuckled softly before pushing down on your back to bend you over. "It will hurt, I admit, but not for too long."

At the very last moment, a creeping fear took over your mind and even after several orgasms he had worked you up, you couldn't relax, knowing the pain to come. Nervously, you bent down to rest your head on your crossed elbows, his hot flesh poking at your tight little hole. God, he was so big... you knew it from the time you danced close together at your wedding, your inner channel clenching around nothing in anticipation of what would happen next.

"(Y/N)," he called your name longingly, stroking his full length as he spread your wetness around his engorged head. "I've never wanted someone as badly as I want you now."

Bateman lowered himself to lick your neck, and then you screamed loudly as he began to thrust into you, gripping your hips tightly as you instinctively tried to slip away. 

"Pat! Mmm, I'm so f-full, Goshhh," you tried your best to hold yourself back from crying, but the tearing sensation in your lower abdomen was too much to handle. "W-wait!"

"Almost there, darling," Patrick lied, as it was only the tip, but he didn't want to make the current situation any worse, so he decided to just keep going, ramming into you with more effort, grabbing you by the waist and almost digging his fingers into your delicate skin. "You're doing so well, mmmm ... F-fuck, you're so tight, baby."

Bateman really tried to control himself, but the way you embraced his thick cock was too blissful, it brought out his inner beast faster than he thought.

"Aaa-awww, so... so big, oh mmmm," your eyes rolled back in your head as he buried himself completely into your squeezed womb, your saliva dripping uncontrollably from your mouth. "Ah! It hurts..."

Without hesitation, Patrick leaned down to your neck and tongued your earlobe in order to soothe you a little, and when that didn't help, he cupped your face to bring you closer as his red-hot lips locked with yours. Passionately, he attacked your mouth, sucking and licking your tongue with a slurpy sound. 

"You will give me a child, sweetheart," Bateman muttered in a demanding tone before forcing you to sit on your knees and covering you from behind. "A beautiful son..." he thrust deeper, holding you by the neck. "...or a daughter...or both."

The sounds of flesh meeting flesh mixed with the squelching your pussy made each time his beefy shaft moved in and out of your inner channel, relentlessly hitting your cervix with its tip.

"Yes, P-Patrick ... I'll do anything you ... want ... aaaww!" Your ability to speak diminished each time he rocked into your body, pressing you closer to his solid muscles as he settled more comfortably on his knees beside you. 

"Of course, you will, baby girl."

Bateman was about to lose it at any moment from the way your tight hole was squeezing his dick, and your lascivious moans only encouraged him to fuck you harder and faster. 

"Do you feel that love?" Patrick put his hand on your belly, impaling you relentlessly on his thick cock. "Can you feel my dick hitting your belly? Arrgh-fuck, you're so delicate and fragile ... I'm even afraid of breaking you."

After his brief confession, Bateman took your palm and placed it on your tummy, so you could sense the outline of his huge dick sliding inside you, and that sensation literally made you choke on air. 

"I feel it ... Patrick, I f-feel it ... aaah," you threw your head back, resting it on his sturdy shoulder. "Patrick..."

You mumbled his name over and over as a saving mantra, your eyes now full of tears, and as if that was not enough, his hips began to slam into yours with increasing intensity. For a moment you found yourself fading away from the tremendous sensation of being so fucking full and abused that you couldn't even pronounce a world, only moaning wildly as you were fucking like animals, so ruthless and totally out of control.

"F-Fuck, I'm gonna make you pregnant again and again, mm-my dear wifey," he suddenly lowered his palm down your mound to rub your oversensitive bud, smearing your slick all around your pubic area and causing your legs to tremble frantically. "Shit," he felt you clenching around his dick as you climaxed so abruptly from his rubbing circular movements. He watched you quiver in his arms, your mouth paralysed in a silent cry as he kissed your temple and contemplated: "I wanna see your belly swell with my child ... I bet you'll look so beautiful, ahh-fuck."

Growling, Patrick closed his eyes from the surging ecstasy that soon consumed him, causing his whole body to cramp and his thrusts to become absolutely raw but ragged. As he pumped his fertile seed into your pussy, he didn't stop ramming into you, holding you tightly in his muscular arms until he was spent to the last drop. The feeling of warm cum filling you from the inside was so overwhelming that you didn't have time to be afraid, as if it was destined to happen before you could even think.

‘Just be a good wifey for him,' kept nagging at the back of your mind, your tears falling on your sweaty body as your eyes were wide open, staring at that one spot on the ceiling above with bitter sorrow in your chest.

From now on, you would never belong to yourself again. Not ever.

[lqveharrington]

Behind the Scenes | V.

summary: Being Vox’s girlfriend requires some patience after twelve hour work days.

pairing: Vox x fem!reader

includes: Vox and Velvette bullying one another, VALENTINO BEING A MENACE, mentions of Angel’s job, drinking, fluff, yelling, Vox being a baby, cursing, implications of being a prostitute, suggestiveness, both of them being teases (that’s it, let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: i think writing hazbin fics is my stress outlet 😭

You were Vox’s. And Vox was yours. Every demon and sinner in Pride Ring knew due to Vox taking time out of his busy work day to shower you with compliments in every press interview or host show when you were brought up. Especially when Vox would be the first one to find you after you finished modeling for Velvette’s show, making sure the paparazzi had photos of him praising you with kisses and soft touches.

Of course, you reciprocated every moment… In the public eye. Behind the cameras and screens, Vox was very much loving. But he did work for almost twelve hours each day, which required patience from you whenever he came home to you in a sour mood.

“Do you need me for anything else, Vel?” You glance back at your phone as you pour red wine into your glass.

“No,” She scribbled down measurement adjustments for another model’s design, looking back up at her screen after hearing an electrical shock from your side of the phone. “But do tell your boy toy that you have a dress rehearsal early tomorrow morning, and that you have to be there on time.”

Vox wrapped his arm around your waist, glaring at the young overlord through your phone. “Fuck off, Velvette.”

You feel him resting his head against your shoulder as he presses soft kisses on your neck, your dead heart fluttering. “I’ll be there on time.”

“Good.” She rolled her eyes at your boyfriend’s actions before ending the call.

“What’s your damage today, handsome?” You ask before sipping on your drink, red lipstick staining the clear glass. You watch as he mutters something incoherent, static emitting from his hat. “Vox, talk to me.”

“That bitch Carmilla won’t meet up, and it’s been several days since our last update on Vox technology.” He sighs as he moves around you, his voice crackling with electricity. “Shareholders have been up my fucking ass all morning about it— Valentino keeps trying to get me to watch his stupid porn feels featuring Angel.”

He removes his suit jacket as he complains, walking toward the large living space including a minibar. Vox pulls at his tie and reaches for the whiskey underneath, “Now Velvette wants to be an ass and complain about me wanting to spend time with you—“

“My love,” You hand him a glass from the cabinets, letting your hand linger on his for a bit. “Vel’s my boss, and I’m her best model. She needs me for these rehearsals.”

“You’re really taking her side?” He tilts back his head and downs the drink in one go, pouring another.

You roll your eyes at his childish behavior, “I’m not taking sides, I’m pointing out a fact.” You sit on the stool by the bar, letting him slot himself between your legs. “If anything, I’m listening to you describing your day.”

“Mm.” He let one hand come down and rest on your hip, rubbing soft circles. “Tell me about your day.”

“Boring, tiring. Pretty much the same every day.” You grab his wrist to ensure he doesn’t go any lower or any higher. “According to your assistant, I do have a lot of things planned tomorrow. So that should be exhausting.”

Vox linked your hands together, “Sounds stressful.”

“Not as bad as yours every day.” You press a kiss on his palm. “I was gonna watch a movie while waiting for you, but now that you’re here—“ You shift your wine glass in your hand as he puts his own glass down, letting him trail his hands to your waist. “Want to join me?”

“Of course.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before trailing after you. “What movie are we watching?”

“Whatever the first thing I find.” You let Vox sit on the couch before doing the same, swinging your legs over his lap. “You need a new rotation on Voxflix, I’ve watched almost everything.”

“I’ll get on that.” He mumbled as he ran his hand up and down your leg, occasionally squeezing.

You hum and shift your gaze to the television, scrolling through the different movies. “How do we feel about—“

A ringtone filled the air, both of you freezing at the noise.

“Vox—“

“Give me a second.” He let you pull your legs away and pulled the ringing from his screen to his phone, camera-ready voice leaving his mouth.

You sigh but find a movie worth watching, pulling your knees up. Around halfway through, you decided that the movie was meretricious, heavily judging the poorly made movie more than the other ones you’ve watched. You typed your review on your phone, giving the movie two stars before—

“—THEN GET SOME LOW LIFE SINNER TO DO YOUR FUCKING JOB FOR YOU!” You heard Vox scream from the kitchen, making you wince for the poor soul on the other end. “AND IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE SHIT I GIVE YOU, JUST KNOW I HAVE YOUR FUCKING SOUL IN CONTRACT!”

You pause the movie and get up, taking slow steps to your hotheaded boyfriend. He shuffled across the kitchen, walking back and forth as his fans kicked on. His white shirt was unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled up like he was going to commit a crime.

“YOU LITTLE PIECE OF—“

“Vox,” You come up from behind and wrap your arms around his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s outside of your work hours.”

“Fucking—“ He rubbed his temple as he heard the sinner go silent on the other line. Vox took one hand and laced it with yours, “You’re lucky my wife is generous you ungrateful fuck.” He ended the call before muttering more curses, turning you in his arms so you were facing his front.

You let your hands move up to his shoulders, massaging the heavy tension in them. “Am I your wife now? Is that what you’ve been telling those sinners?”

“Maybe.” He let out a loud groan from the sensation, fans still running. “The fucking bitch in accounting is—“

“You’re not working right now, stop.” You give him a pointed look. “I need you to relax.”

Vox wrapped his arms around your waist, walking you backward toward the living area once more. “God, I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too.” You chuckle as he peppers kisses on your face. You let out a noise of surprise when he pulls you into his lap, hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Vox!”

“Yes?” He pressed kisses to your exposed collarbone.

You sigh in content but grab the corners of his screen, giving him a cheeky grin. “Tomorrow, my love. Velvette will murder the both of us if I show up late with bruises.”

“I’ll pay her to let you have a day off tomorrow.” He slipped his hand up your shirt, sharp claws bringing chills to your skin.

“So now you’re paying to be with me?” You raise a brow, stifling a laugh when he stops all movements. “Am I some kind of—“

“Of course not! Do not finish that sentence.” He pushed you down on the couch, covering your mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You laugh at how protective he is over you from himself. “I know you didn’t mean it like that, I was kidding.”

Vox dropped his head down to your shoulder, “You’re such a tease.”

“I’m the best.” You squeeze his bicep. “But seriously, Vel will have our heads strung outside the tower.”

“Whatever.” He flipped you both over, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I’ll have you all to myself this weekend.”

You hum, pressing a kiss on the corner of his screen. “I’m sure you do, handsome.”

“My love, I will cancel all your plans this weekend if you tell me I can’t have you.” Vox traces his finger down your spine. “Don’t tell me you have any.”

“I don’t…” You turn your head as he runs his claws through your hair. You feel yourself warm as he wraps a blanket over the both of you, flicking the television to play with a snap of his fingers.

“What do we rate the movie today?” He played with the ends of your hair, face pulling a grimace at the movie’s corny script.

“Two stars.” You mumble as your gaze shifts to the television. As the television fades to black in an awkward transition, you see Vox staring at you rather than the screen. “What are you looking at, weirdo?”

“My beautiful girlfriend.” He squeezed your hip. “Who I love very much.”

You let a small laugh slip through your lips, grinning brightly at his words. “I love you very much too, weirdo.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

My precious Jewel ♧

Bale!Bruce Wayne x soon-to-be wife!reader

A/N: I got carried away. I'm very passionate about Bale!Bruce and just lost control at one point. I'm not sorry, hehe! This is for all my Bale!Bruce girlies. Can be read for any Bruce, though! Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Prompt: Bruce spoiling you to the high heavens and only wanting your love in return.

Requested by: my lovely mutual @vampkennedy

Warnings: NFSW CONTENT. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, very very fluffy, kinda possessive Bruce

Word count: 3.6k

PART 2 ♡

Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

There was not a morning where you didn't wake up like this. You were alone, yes, but you knew he wasn't far. He never was. This had turned into a game of sorts. A spiel where he would shower you in lavish gifts every single morning. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him and that you held his heart in your hands.

You sat up in your shared bed and stretched your arms, letting out a yawn. Your gaze fell to the sliver of light that your curtains couldn't keep out. Getting up, you followed it carefully, knowing that he wanted you to. He was Bruce Wayne, nothing was a coincidence. Everything was intenional. A small, red box sat on your vanity, a note right next to it. It was being perfectly illuminated by the slice of sunshine cutting through the darkness of the room. A smile crept onto your face as you read the note your lover had left you.

My beloved,

May this bring a sparkle to your life, just as you have brought to mine.

Love,

Bruce ♡

You rolled your eyes at how corny this was, but it still tugged at your heart strings in the best way possible. Every day there would be a new box and note for you to discover. Placing the gifts in just the right spot and, like today, draping the curtain just at the perfect angle to guide the way to his love. He was always awake before you were but that didn't stop him. He'd never missed a day and you doubt he ever would.

You looked forward to this as well, but not because of the jewelry or whatever other expensive gifts he had prepared. No. It was the notes. It were the cruelly scribbled down words that made your heart beat out of your chest.

You loved the gifts as well, but the notes held a special place in your heart. Putting down the piece of paper, you carefully picked up the tiny box and opened the lid. Your mouth fell slightly agape at the sight before you. In the smooth, white pillows sat a delicate necklace. It was glistening in the morning glow ever so nicely.

A beautifully crafted rose pendant hung from it, the intricate petals were cold to the touch as you gently grazed the tips of your fingers over them. This had been one of most extravagant presents he'd ever given you. Bruce did always call you his flower. You brought so much to his once dull and gray life; his heart and soul bloomed like the delicate daffodils did in early spring everytime he thought of you. You brought color and joy. Just like flowers did.

"Oh, Bruce..." you sniffled, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks. Carefully picking it up, you placed it around your neck and fastened the clasp. It fit perfectly, sitting ever so delicately on your skin. You admired yourself in your vanity mirror, your fingers slightly grazing the skin just around the necklace.

You couldn't wait to show Bruce. Yes, he'd picked it out but it looked so different on you than it did on the silken interior of the small box.

Throwing on one of your many, many silk robes that Bruce insisted on getting in every single color, you quickly made your way down the grand staircase. The cold marble tiles sending a delightfully cool feeling up your spine each time you took a step. You rushed down the stairs, a steady grasp on the railing. The sunlight streaming in through the many windows fell right onto your ring.

Slowing your pace, you held your hand up to the light and examined the shimmering band. A reminder of his love. He had proposed to you just a few days ago. It was incredibly special, just the two of you under the stars. He popped the question in the stunning garden of Wayne manor that Alfred worked so hard on.

Speaking of Alfred, he was more excited than either of you. He had to sit down and went through an entire box of tissues when you broke the news. What a kind soul. You had the dumbest smile on your face recalling the events from a couple of days ago. Letting out a squeal, you pressed your hands to your heart. You were getting married. Not only that, but to him. The love of your life.

You couldn't wait any longer, you had to see him. Hurrying the rest of the way to the dinning hall, you composed yourself before entering. And the sight. Dear God. Bruce was sat at the head of the table in his boxers and a white T-shirt, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He looked so domestic, so peaceful. Not like previous nights where he'd limp in, all battered and bruised.

Slightly looking up, his furrowed brows were immediately replaced with a wide grin when he spotted you. Putting down the mug and the paper he got out of his chair, walking your way. You met him halfway, your arms thrown loosely around his neck as his snaked around your waist.

"If it isn't my beautiful wife." He grinned, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. "Ah, soon-to-be wife." You corrected him, the smile on your cheeks never leaving. He chuckled lowly and shook his head. "What took you so long, Honey?" He questioned softly. You laughed at his eagerness to see you. "I was held up by your generosity, Mr. Wayne." You teased, taking one of his hands and placing it on your collarbone, right next to the stunning piece of jewelry.

His gaze fell to your neck and his smile faded, leaving him wide-eyed and with his mouth slightly agape. He tenderly caressed your soft skin with his thumb, tracing the shape of the necklace. "I knew it'd be perfect," He breathed out, followed by a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks flushed and you brought his hand up to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.

"Thank you, Sweetheart. For all these precious gifts. For always making me wake up with a smile on my face. You've made me the happiest girl in the world." You confessed, the softest smile on your face. Bruce swear his heart just melted inside his chest. He made you the happiest girl in the world? You have no idea how happy you made him. He felt invincible, like the king of the world. He was convinced he only needed your love to accomplish whatever he set his mind to. You were his oxygen, the blood in his veins, the very spirit of his soul.

Bruce was determined to show you just how much you meant to him, if that was possible. "Anything for you, my love." He said, having the most adoring look in his eyes. You'd placed your hand on his cheek in the meantime, the golden engagement band cold against his skin. "I love you, Bruce." You whispered, gently leaning in for a tender kiss. He didn't hesitate, pulling you closer to him by your waist. You relaxed against his lips, tightening the grip you had on the back of his neck.

You needed more, you needed him. He chuckled against your lips but complied, deepening the kiss. Pulling away for air, you were breathless and your lips were puffy. He would kiss you breathless forever if he could. And God knows you would let him. His playboy days paid off for something because this man could kiss. And you loved how you were the only one to feel those kisses.

"Look at you. My eager, little wife." A sly smirk was on his face and he made sure to emphasize the last word. You opened your mouth to correct him again, but he quickly interrupted you with another breathtaking yet soft kiss. You didn't now why you were so easily flustered by his kisses, you'd been together for years. There just something so electric and new about being his. Truly being his. Him being yours.

"I know we're not married yet, but I can call you whatever I want. You're mine." He said lowly, pupils dilated. His grip on your waist tightend. He's never done that. Never called you his. Told you you were his. It was implied, of course, but he'd never said the actual words. You just stood there, face flushed to the high heavens with the biggest lovesick smile on your face. His tone softened again when he spoke.

"I want you to wear the necklace to the Gala tonight." Your brows furrowed and you slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What Gala?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, it's a... spontaneous thing. There's a new dress in the closet." He answered. You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "Spontaneous, huh? Also, we talked about this, Sweetheart. I don't need a new dress for every event! I've barely worn the other hundreds." You laughed.

He just grinned in response. You knew he loved to see you in something new each time, he loved spoiling you. Only the best for his love. "That's where we disagree. Would you wrap a diamond ring in used wrapping paper?" He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "No, I wouldn't." You sighed.

"All the other dress just can't keep up with your inner beauty." He breathed, a soft look in his eyes. You folded. You could never be upset with him for long, you loved him too much. "Fine, I'll wear it. You're lucky I love you," you pouted. He wanted you to never stop saying that. That you loved him. Something he'd longed for, for so long. To be loved, truly loved. Not for his money, his status, his looks. But because of who he was. And you did just that. From the odd noises he made when he slept, to the extremely bad jokes he made. You were always there, tending to his wounds, whether they affected his body or his soul. Holding him so softly after a hard night, he feared you'd crumble under his calloused hands.

"Well, I'll get ready for the day. I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a quick peck to his lips. He hummed in response as you slipped from his grasp.

"Honey?" you turned around, already halfway up the stairs.

"There will be a lot more press and paparazzi there today," he said. "Why?" You asked curiously, fully turning around on the stairs. "They're expecting Mrs. Wayne." He shot you a wink and gave you one of those signature smiles as he walked away.

He was right. There were a lot more people. The streets leading up to the location were lined completely with camera wielding, and very nosy paparazzi and news anchors. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse. This was huge for the press. They probably thought that this day would never come. Bruce Wayne, Gothams millionaire playboy was settling down? Impossible. The moment you stepped out of the car they were all over you. Invading your personal space, shoving cameras and microphones in your face. This was sensational. They wanted to know more about the woman who tightly held Bruce Wayne's heart in her delicate hands.

They had written some pretty bad stuff about Bruce in the past, not that he cared. But when one peticular news article labeled you as just a trophy wife, all hell broke loose. He sued them until bankruptcy. How dare they. How dare they lable his wife, his world, his precious jewel, as just a trophy. You were the light of his life, you loved him and he loved you. He loved you more than they would ever know and he would burn them to the ground if they ever suggested otherwise again. No press had the guts to call you names again, or they would feel the wrath of a very in love Bruce Wayne.

He came to your rescue pretty quickly. Positioning himself between you and the paparazzi, acting as human shield. Bruce gently placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you through the doors. You let out a breath you didn't know you held.

"Jesus, do they not have better things to do.." you mumbled, hooking your arm with his. "This is their job, so no, Honey." He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him. You knew that, but did they have to be so obnoxious? If they asked nicely maybe you would actually answer some of their absurd questions. You made your way into the center of the room where the upper class of Gotham was already mingling with a glass of very expensive champagne in hand.

Bruce couldn't stop glancing over at you. The floor length, satin gown was tailored to perfection, showing of your body in the best way. The rose necklace sat nicely around your neck, sparkling under the bright light of the many chandeliers. Your hair was in an updo, showing off your earrings perfectly as they lightly swaying as you walked. Your soft hands were decorated with the many rings he had showered you with, the extravagant engagement band catching everyone's eye.

God, you looked so elegant on his arm, almost floating along the granite floor. The bright smile on your lips melted his heart as you greeted people. Unimportant people, if you ask him. "You look absolutely beautiful, my love," he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck, sending a chill down your spine.

"You flatter me, Darling. I'm glad you wore this suit, it's my favorite," you gently ran your hand down his chest. It too, was tailored just right. His heart beat faster. He didn't know you had a favorite suit. One that you longed to see him wear because it just made him look that good. "What's this Gala for anyway?" You asked, toying with the lapel of his jacket.

"Oh, you know, just some... charity," he responded with a breathy laugh. You raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes widened in realization and a knowing smirk made its way on your pretty face. "Did you plan this whole thing just to show me off?" You questioned amused. He stumbled over his words, a very rare occurrence.

"What? Of course not, Honey, that-that'd be absurd-" you interrupted him by pressing a finger over his lips. "Fine. Let them see. Let them see how much I love you." You whispered, smashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. One hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, the other was steadied on his chest. His hands instinctively snaked around your middle, holding you tightly.

All eyes were on you, hushed whispers and gasps filling the room. You pulled away, chest heaving. Bruce's pupils were dilated. "God, you're perfect..." he whispered breathlessly. He couldn't wait to leave this stupid event and shower you in his affection.

The Gala was a success and you were finally back at the manor. You were standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom and admired yourself one last time before you'd take it all off. Bruce came up behind you, the jacket of his suit discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses along your exposed skin. You let out a breathy laugh. "Look who's eager now," you teased.

Bruce chuckled against your neck. "Can you blame me when you look like that?" He said lowly. He dragged his hands up your back and slowly pulled the zipper to your dress down. With a gentle brush of his hand, he let the dress slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your panties, which quickly joined your gown and the floor as he pushed them down your plush hips.

"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?" You said softly, yet seductively as he continued placing wet kisses along your bare shoulder and neck. "You tell me, Honey," he answered. The taste of your skin was intoxicating. You turned around, putting your hands on his chest and slowly pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his thighs hit the bed, he sat down, pulling you into his lap.

"I think you are," you mumbled hazily, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the ground. You moved your hips over his hard cock, straining against his pants. A low groan erupted from his throat at your actions. You could feel your wetness dripping from you, leaving a wet patch on his crotch. He pulled you in for a desperate kiss as you reached down to unbuckle his belt and slip off his pants.

Bruce was left in his boxers, which were quickly taken care of. His throbbing cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. You took his dick into your ring clad hand and pumped up and down a few times, making his head fall back. "Fuck, Baby..." he groaned, squeezing your hips. Lifting your hips, you lined his length up with your pussy and sank down onto it, a long moan falling from your lips. "G-God.. you fit so well. It's like you were made for me.." you mumbled out, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. He was made for you, he was sure of it. He was yours, until the end.

He moaned out your name when you started moving your hips, which he guided with his hands. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, occasionally tugging and pulling at it. Bruce looked up at you as you bounced on his cock. Your beautiful face was contorted in pleasure, and the jewelry he had bought you still adorned you so nicely. There was a layer of sweat covering your skin, making you shine. Just like your necklace glistened in the dimly lit room. You looked like a Goddess above him, decorated with delicate pieces of jewelry. Jewelry he bought for you.

God, he wasn't sure he wanted to fuck you another way ever again. Your ring was cold against his skin, reminding him that you were his. For him to take, however he pleased. He would buy every diamond in Gotham if it meant having a sight like this before him. Your hips started moving faster, as you moaned. "Shit...M'getting c-close," you breathed out, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

He was almost upset at you for taking away his privilege of admiring you, but he never got the chance once he heard your cute little moans and whines right beside his ear. "Me too, Honey, keep going.." he panted. You pressed your body to his, your tits sitting beautifully against his chest. Bruce glanced down and saw the curves of your soft tits adorned with the stunning necklace.

It molded to their curve so perfectly, making him tighten the grip on your hips, frantically moving you up and down his cock. He chased his release, your warm, wet walls feeling too good. You gasped as his dick hit that one that that made your head spin. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to call you my husband.." you rambled out, barely registering what you'd confessed.

That pushed him over the edge as he shot his load inside you with a guttural groan, filling you up. Your husband. That was music to his ears. That's all he wants, to be yours, to be loved by you. You clenched around him and came with a cry of his name. Panting, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "Did you mean that?" He asked quietly, kneading the flesh of your hips.

"Did I mean what?" You asked, breathing heavily. Bruce hestitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "That you can't wait to call me your husband."

"Oh.. I did. I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. My heart is yours, Bruce," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "I love you too, Honey." He responded, kissing you passionately.

"I'll draw us a bath," you breathed, raking your fingers through his locks. He hummed in response, reluctantly letting go of you. You slipped off his cock. He watched his cum trickling down your thigh as you walked towards the bathroom. He groaned at the sight, falling back onto the bed with a smile.

Bruce was laying with his head against your chest, surrounded by bubbles and soap. His back was pressed to your front and your hands were wrapped around him. You could feel him relax against you, the tension in his shoulders fading. "I keep them, you know," you said softly from behind him. The water rippled as he turned his head to look at you.

"Keep what?" He asked. "The notes. The ones you always place next to my gifts? I keep all of them," you spoke, tracing patterns on his pecs. "You do?" He smiled. "Yeah, I read them when you're gone and I'm feeling sad. They're in a box in my nightstand." You mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you so much, Honey," he said quietly. "I love you more, Bruce."

From that moment on, he put more effort into his notes. They keep getting longer and longer, almost turning into letters as he confessed his love to you every single day. You would still read them when you're old and gray, because his love for you would never fade. Just like how your love for him would never be lost to time, you would love him until the end, continuing in your next life. Your souls and hearts were bound, and they would never stop searching until they found eachother once again.

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

[viviuxd]

INNOCENT LOVE:a viking fell in love with me!

SYPNOSIS: Given away by her father to one of the most feared Viking kings, she finds herself betrothed. However, the clash between their beliefs and traditions threatens to unravel the union before it even begins. PAIRING: Viking x Christian!reader.

TW:difference in spiritual beliefs, mention of polygamy and death.

You inhaled deeply to calm your nerves, digging your nails into the delicate silk dress while observing the nearby door where your 'future husband' awaited. Truly, you had no intention of marrying him, and you would tell him so. You didn't care if rejecting him meant risking your life; you preferred that over marrying a pagan. You were well aware of Viking customs: they married many women, were cruel, killers, and worst of all, they worshipped pagan gods! You definitely couldn't be with someone like that.

Finally, you stopped walking alongside the guards, facing an immense wooden door. One guard effortlessly opened it, and for the first time, the other guard addressed you.

"Please, this way, miss. King Thorkell is waiting for you," he gestured with his hand for you to enter, offering a faint smile.

"Thank you, sir," you expressed your gratitude, delicately bowing your head to display your manners.

You sighed, closing your eyes, nervous. You walked slowly forward, feeling your legs tremble, your stomach churn, and a nauseating sensation. Upon lifting your gaze, a pang shot through your torso. The mighty King Thorkell stared at you intently, with a lethal gaze, as if he could see your sins. You swallowed hard and, with great effort, made a bow, inclining your body forward.

"King Thorkell."

°१९*०°

She entered the hall escorted by the guards I assigned and I noticed how her whole body trembled as she approached me. Her fear was evident, and I relished in her submission.

I knew she was Christian; they were very ignorant and weak in this world. I despised all those idiots, but the woman in front of me seemed different. Clearly, the ideals she sought in a partner were not ones I could offer, and her innocence was remarkable, her beautiful eyes looking at me with fear and obedience... she was so charming that I desired her for myself in that very moment.

"King Thorkell." I felt a tingling down my back as I heard her sweet voice. I cursed myself for summoning her so soon; I should have prepared for her.

°१९*०°

Your eyes fixated on his bulging muscles, evident even through his clothing. You swallowed hard, realizing the thoughts you had; a Viking could never interest you.

"The wedding will take place as soon as possible, so you shouldn't worry about that. From now on, you will reside in the palace, and a separate chamber will be assigned to you until you adapt. Do you understand, miss?"

You sensed his arrogance in his final words, and you clenched your fist a bit tighter. "How disrespectful," you muttered to yourself.

"King, if you allow me, I have something to say..." You wanted to clear your throat upon hearing your trembling voice. "Speak quickly, I don't have much time."

It was your first conversation, and you truly detested how he addressed you, but you chose to ignore it and demonstrate that you indeed had manners.

"I do not wish to marry you, Your Majesty."

At that moment, pride surged within you. Your words sounded so serious that you felt proud of yourself.

"I don't say it to offend you, only that it goes against my values to unite with..." You paused, carefully choosing your words to avoid upsetting him. "Someone like you."

You saw his jaw tense, and you took a step back when he rose from his throne and slowly walked towards you, his face filled with hatred. You stopped abruptly, colliding with a nearby column, finding yourself cornered by Thorkell.

He leaned towards you, the noticeable difference in height between you two, positioning himself right in front of your face, too close for comfort.

"Someone like me?" He murmured, his breath dangerously nearing you.

[writingsbychlo]

KNOW YOU LIKE I DO | tom riddle

summary; love letters are tom's way of communicating. unfortunately, he's not as good with his actions.

word count; 7036

notes; another one that I said was gonna be short and it wasn’t. I think I’m physically incapable of writing short fics, actually.

Dear Tom,

Tommy. 

My Tom. 

Do you still have that first letter I wrote to you, back in summer? No, I suppose you don’t, that’s not very like you. 

I’m drunk. Just a little bit (a lot), and I can’t take it anymore. Mattheo told me to tell you how I feel, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. He’s asleep on my bed right now, drooling into my favourite pillow waiting for me to write this. 

So here it is. 

I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I’m in love. And it’s all your fault.

Staring across the crowded room, your eyes fixed back onto that of Tom Riddle. It wasn’t hard to spot him, not as he was the only man who came to a Christmas party dressed in all black and sat alone, brooding. His lips were pressed into a line, the lights bouncing off of those shiny curls, green and red splashed across his pale skin as he sipped at his drink, listening to the conversation Draco and Blaise were having, but never participating. 

Your heart lurched a little in your chest, just the mere sight of him had a thousand different feelings rearing their heads, and you sighed to yourself. Shaking your head, your attention was redirected to the drinks table, pouring yourself an extra strong helping of Giggle Gin and topping it off. The urge to look back over was strong, and you steadfastly ignored it, suppressing the urge and instead, turning your back to his direction, walking towards the group of girls giggling in the opposite corner. 

Taking your seat back in the comfy corner of the sofa, Pansy offered you a smile, her arm looped over Luna’s shoulders as the blonde cuddled into her side. Astoria was currently recounting the intimate details of her latest night with Draco, and you hid a smile in your cup as you tuned back into the conversation. 

You lost the battle with your will, however, gaze moving directly back across the room to Tom. He had a slight smirk on his face now as he watched Draco speak, and you did not doubt that he was receiving a tale of the exact same encounter Astoria was currently telling, only from a different point of view. 

Blonde cut across your vision, the perfect smile of Daphne blocking your view as she sat in front of you, severing any sights of Tom you might have had. “You know,” She started, grinning as she took a sip of your drink cheekily, before handing it back. “If you stare at him any harder, you’re gonna’ drill holes in the side of his head.”

You could only scoff, but no argument formed. Lately, all you’d been able to do was stare longingly at him across any room. You weren’t subtle, and you’d never been much good at hiding your feelings. Which seemed fitting, since you’d fallen for someone who was like a blank slate, permanently. 

Tom Riddle was a harder book to read than a tablet written in a never-before-discovered language. 

“He looks so… miserable, Daph.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, snorting a laugh, and turning her attention back to you. “Because Tom Riddle doesn’t go to parties, and he’s probably counting the minutes until he can leave.” She smirked a little, shuffling closer, perched on the edge of her seat as she leaned in, “At least, he didn’t go to parties. Until you, that is.”

Your cheeks flushed, a subtle hint at the running joke your friendship group had taken on. They’d all become convinced that Tom attended parties for you, ever since he’d been a willing guest for the first time at Draco’s end-of-summer bonfire bash, and spent the majority of the night talking with you. They refused to let it go. 

“You should go over there and cheer him up. I bet he’d be smiling in no time if you gave him a little attention.”

That was exactly the problem. You’d been giving him a little too much attention, and now, everyone was painfully aware of your feelings for him. Except for him, maybe. Either that, or he was just very good at pretending he didn’t notice, in a chance to let you down gently. You didn’t know which option was worse. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daph.”

“No, you don’t be ridiculous! You and him are… something else.” She took your free hand in hers, squeezing tightly. All amusement melted from her face, and she gave you a serious look. The expression she wore when advising her sister on Draco, or comforting Pansy after a panic attack. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened over the summer, or are you just going to keep acting like it wasn’t some cataclysmic shift?”

“So dramatic.” You hummed to your roommate.

“Still pretending, I see.” She teases lightly, but her brows are still furrowed. She waited a few more seconds, to see if you’ll crack. All you do is hold her steady gaze, and take a sip of your drink. With a sigh, she released your hand, and leans back in her chair. “Well, whatever. We can all see it, see how you two pine for one another, and how perfect you’d be together. Just go and talk to him! He’s probably sat over there waiting for you anyway. He had that exact same kicked-puppy expression on at the summer party, until you walked in.”

“He did not…” You murmur, the very thought making you blush. 

“I think that’s the first time I ever saw Tom Riddle smile. A real smile, not the smile he gets when threatening someone, or when Mattheo falls over. A good smile.” 

“Now you’re just making him out like some kind of sulky villain.” You retort, and she only raises a brow at you.

“Here, take him this box, and go talk to him. The poor boy looks lost over there without you.” Reaching under her chair, Daphne produces a familiar box, wrapped neatly in black paper with dark green ribbon, and your jaw drops. 

“Daphne!—” Reaching out to snatch it from her, your brows furrow. “Did you go through my things?”

“I didn’t exactly go through your things,” She grins, watching you turn over the label with his name written on neatly. “I just watched you hide it under your bed and got curious… it smells good. Is it cookies? Can I have one?”

When she reaches for the box, you slap the back of her hand, and she sticks her tongue out at you in return. “No! You cannot, you little snoop!”

“Fine! If you won’t let me have a cookie, then you have to go over there. You either give me a cookie, or you give me the satisfaction of seeing you and him smile.” Her arms crossed, her tone annoyed but her words caring, and love shone in her gaze as she stared at you. “Go on. Go over to him. Please.”

It wasn’t like you didn’t already want to, and with her encouragement, you were a weak woman to say no. Downing the rest of your drink for a little liquid courage, you hop to your feet, present clutched in your hands.

Weaving through the room, the bass notes of Mattheo’s custom-made playlist pumped through the room from the speakers, a playlist you might have slightly altered a few days ago to add a couple of songs, just to mix up his usual tastes. Your stomach was twisting nervously, but the alcohol in your veins made for a pleasant buzz as the distance between you both closed. 

After almost taking a ping-pong ball to the eye, courtesy of Theo on the beer-pong table, you cleared the games and settled into the pleasant atmosphere surrounding where the boys had set themselves up for the evening by the fire. When you approached, Tom looked up, frown melting away as the crease between his brows disappeared, and he sat up a little straighter as you approached. 

“Hi, doll,” He murmured, shifting his arm from the armrest of the chair, so that you could take a seat on it instead. That same arm soon wrapped around your waist, his head falling to rest on your shoulder, and your heart skipped a beat within your chest. “Where’ve you been?”

“Over there, with Daph and the girls.” You whisper in reply, balancing the box on your thighs, and pointing through the crowds to the barely visible patch of chairs and sofas you’d all been occupying. He only hummed, squeezing you a little closer. 

“Stay here with me for a while?”

“Sure,” Your voice hardly worked as you spoke, emotions clogging up, and you reached for the gift in your lap. “I have this for you, anyway. I made you those cookies you like so much.”

“You did?” His head lifted, and one of those pretty smiles that made your heart stop clean in your chest was adorning his lips. “The ones with the orange peel and the dark chocolate?”

“Those very ones.��� You handed it to him, and he tugged at the ribbon covering the box, fingers flipping under the seals of the paper until it fell openly neatly. Flicking open the catch on the cardboard box, the smell of freshly baked treats filled the air, and he made a rumbling noise of happiness as he plucked on up, and took a bite. As you laughed at him, he took another, pushing it between your lips with a smirk while he chewed. 

He resealed the box, savouring them, as he did all things, and putting them on the table in front of himself. You held the cookie now, eating it slowly, as Draco and Blaise finally seemed to become aware of your presence. 

“I have a question.” Draco started, and your gaze moved to him, brow raising as you took the final bite. “Is Astoria over there talking about me?”

The blond smirked, and you twisted, lifting your legs to sit over Tom, ankles crossing on the opposite arm. “No, no. She’s been recounting a scene from a book.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You know, the fun books. It was really, really hot.” You teased, fanning yourself, and Tom chuckled, reaching over you for his drink, and taking a sip. Instead of putting it back down, he rested the cool glass on your thigh, his free hand coming to sit on your calf, rubbing lightly as you shivered at the touch. “Why? You think you’re better than a good spicy romance?”

“I know I am!” Draco huffed, and Blaise rolled his eyes, watching you wind his best friend up with barely a few words at all. “What book is this?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know…”

“I do want to know! Tell me!” His cheeks were turning pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears. In the spirit of Christmas, you took pity on him, rolling your eyes. 

“I think it was called… Astoria’s Diary.” 

It took a few seconds for it to register in Draco’s mind, and the furious pink turned to an embarrassed red, and he shook his head, eyes narrowed at you. “I despise you.”

“You love me.” You fired back, and he scoffed, but the edges of his lips pulled at a smile, and he looked away to cover it. Settling back a little more, you leaned into the cushion, feeling Tom roll his head across the cushion to lean in your direction. 

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week.” He says, voice low for only you to hear, and your head twists towards him You were close, close enough to pick out the different coloured flecks of colour in his eyes as he looked at you, and the hardly visible steaks of lighter brown that trailed naturally through his dark curls.

“Well, I’ve had detention all week, thanks to a certain someone.” You poked his chest, and he only smirked a little bit, shuffling his head a fraction closer. 

“I needed you, what can I say?”

“You needed someone to keep a lookout while you snuck into the restricted section again. Why did it have to be me?” You scoffed, working to keep the smile on your face as the answer to your own question flickered through your mind. He chose you because he knew you’d drop everything and come, the voice taunted; you buried it under the song playing and the laughter in the room so you didn’t have to think about it...

“Don’t act like you didn’t have fun when we ran.” He chuckled, hand sliding up your leg again, fingers lacing with your own. The same way they had when you’d been caught, and he’d grabbed your hand, the two of you ducking and weaving between stacks, fleeing through the corridors. Laughing and out of breath, he’d clutched your hand, thumb rubbing over your knuckles just like he was doing now, staring at you with those pretty eyes.

You hadn't been caught, but you had gotten detention for skipping class to go with him, and so you’d spent all five nights of your final week in detention, writing lines. You lifted your free hand, sighing with a nod, and running it through his curls. His eyes fluttered, head tipping back to follow your hand, and a content smile took over his lips. 

You loved to see him like this, to see him so carefree and happy, to see him relax at just your touch. You’d never seen him like this before. The thought that only you could do it to him sent a thrill down your spine, made your thoughts feel hazy and slow, like treacle in your mind, and your nerves tingled. So, why had he never made a move to make it anything more? You’d given him a dozen chances, a dozen more opportunities…

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you this holiday.” He broke your train of thought, eyes opening again to peer up at you, and his lips became a frown as he thought about it. “My father is going to pile on the pressure not that I’m in my graduating year. I can already feel the headache forming right between my eyes.”

“Oh..” You coo, hand slipping down from his hair to rub your thumb over his forehead, the space you know him to get stress headaches the worst, when he works too hard or gets wound up. He just chuckled, eyes sliding shut once again. 

The song changed, and his body tensed underneath you for just a second, before his eyes snapped open, gaze locked on you. “This is my favourite song.”

“Is it?” You mumble, finger still tracing lightly over his skin, and he nods.

“I didn’t think Mattheo put it on the playlist. I asked him, and he very emphatically said no.” 

“Maybe he changed his mind.” Your shrug doesn’t convince him, not as you both hear Mattheo question the song with a stream of curses somewhere in the distance. His lips twitched at the edges, a small smile, but he said nothing else. Instead, he leaned in, your arm going around his shoulders, rubbing softly as his head nestled onto your shoulder, a sigh on his lips. 

It was perfect, just like this. If he could just open his eyes and see, he’d know how wonderful it could be. Nobody knew him like you did, he’d made sure to keep his secrets locked up tight. But over the months of exchanging letters, and candle-lit nights in the library, he’d bore so much of his soul to you. 

Deep, wounded parts, that you’d tried to put back together. 

Soft, tender parts that he protected so valiantly, but trusted you with. 

Sweet, loving parts, that never saw the light of day, unless you were together.

It was impossible, surely, that he didn’t know. He might keep his feelings locked up tight, but you didn’t hide yours very well at all. As you sat here now, fingers weaving through his hair, lips tracing his temple as you whispered nonsense to him about your day, his head on your shoulder, that he didn’t know. Even a man like Tom Riddle couldn't miss it, right?

You just wanted to make him happy, but he didn’t feel the same. 

With a heart-aching sigh, you ran your fingers through his curls one more time. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your night. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your Christmas. You would not be one of those girls who gave in to their feelings, and crumbled at the feet of a man who didn’t return her affections. 

Sitting up some more, he grumbled at the disruption, blinking his eyes back open as he lifted his head again. “I’m… I’m going to go dance, and play some games, okay?”

“Alright,” He smiled, patting your thigh and lifting his drink away. “Have fun. I’ll probably leave soon. If I don’t see you again, just know I’ll be thinking of you over these holidays. We’ll write again.”

His words send a rush of heat to your cheeks, a tumble of nerves through your stomach, and you could only nod. One more chance, one more chance to make a move…

“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. A kiss that was purposefully close to the edge of his mouth, a kiss that purposefully lingered just a second too long as you pulled away slowly, giving him a chance to turn his head, to close the gap, to kiss you—

But he didn’t, he only smiled. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

So, you stand. You brush it off. You brush off the moment, and the feelings, and all the disappointment and heartbreak that came with it. 

But I can’t do it anymore. 

We’ve been housemates for seven years, we’ve been friends for half of those, and I’ve been in love with you for months. 

But you don’t love me. Mattheo says you do, says you’re just stupid when it comes to feelings. But, even you couldn't miss how I feel about you.

So, I’m letting you go. 

New Year, New Me, New Heart.

“No, your dorm is that way.” You giggle, Mattheo’s arm over your shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the boy’s dorms and pointing. “My dorm is this way!”

“No, you’re wrong!” He mutters, shaking his head dramatically. “Boys to the left,” He says, pointing right, “Girls to the right, because girls are always right!”

“Well, I won’t argue with you there.” You grin, spinning him around. “Wait, now I’m confused. Who’s dorm were we going to again?”

A few too many shots, a few more drinks than your limit at the beer-pong table, and as the last of the party was dying down, you and Mattheo were attempting to stumble back to your dorms. “Theo’s.”

“Right. But why are we going to Theo’s dorm?”

“Because he’s my friend,” Mattheo said. “And also, his bed is next to mine.” Another fit of laughter, drunken giggles melting away, and the two of you collapsed down against the wall, heads tipped back to the stone as amusement took over. When you finally caught your breaths once again, he was smiling, eyes sparkling in that unique Matty-way. Kicking his legs out before himself, he sighed. “Maybe I will just sleep here.”

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Why?” He pouted, and you searched through your foggy mind for a reason. 

“Because you have to sleep in a bed.” Is what you settled on, shrugging your shoulders, even if you were getting a little bit too comfy against the stone too. 

“Can I sleep in your bed?” He wiggled his brows, smirking, before burping, and you giggled again. 

“No, you may not.”

“Why?” He whined, kicking one leg like a toddler in a tantrum. “You have fluffy pillows.”

“And you have sheets that haven’t been washed in months.” Your nose screwed up, and he let out a dramatic, wounded sound, like a soldier who had just been shot in a war movie. 

“That was cold.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Not as cold as the frozen Earth Tom would bury my wee little body in if I spent the night at your dorm.”

You didn’t respond, the mention of his name was like a bucket of ice over your head. Not exactly sobering, but shocking. 

“I’m saying he would murder me.”

“Yes, I understood.”

“You didn’t laugh.” He pouted, and you chuckled for his benefit. “No, it’s not real. Now I feel like I begged for it.”

“You did.”

“You suck.”

“You swallow.” You sighed, and he groaned once again, another argument lost. His head rolled to your shoulder, his body slumping into relaxation. 

“So… what is the deal with you and my brother?” His lips twisted as he thought about it, but he looked up at you curiously, frown only deepening at the sad look on your face. 

“There is no deal.” You shrug, “He doesn’t want me like that. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” He snorts, “And the sky isn’t blue.”

“I’m serious, Matty. I’ve given him a hundred chances. He could’ve made a move anytime. I haven’t exactly kept my feelings to myself, all you fools can see my heart dripping and bleeding on my sleeve. He knows, he just didn’t want to acknowledge it.” Your lungs burned for air at the end of your speech, and you took a deep breath, staring ahead at the chipping bricks in an attempt to avoid tears. “Why doesn’t he want me, Matty?”

“He does,” Mattheo mumbled, taking your hand in his and squeezing. “He’s just a fucking moron. But, he’s also scared. You know, you’re pretty much all he talks about? And, I never saw him smile so much as he did during the summer, when he’d receive your letters. He’d get all anxious and fidgety every day, waiting for the mail owl to arrive. He’s never going to make the first move. He’d rather suffer for all his life but have you like this, than risk losing you entirely.”

The words felt like a warming blanket and an ice-cold lake. Comforting and terrifying, sweet and burning, all at the same time. 

Mattheo huffed a laugh, “Maybe you should write him a love letter.”

“Maybe I should…” You whisper, drunken thoughts taking over, and his head snapped up. 

“I was joking.”

“I’m not. That’s a good idea. I should write him a letter, and tell him that I’m moving on.” You brushed your legs off as you stood, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet, determined.

“Okay, that’s not what a love letter is. That’s so far from what I said—”

“Let’s go!” You grabbed his wrist, tugging him along behind you as you made your way through the halls. 

“Now? Why are we doing it now? We should be sleeping now!” His protests fell on deaf ears as you dragged him along. Throwing open the door to your room, Daphne was already asleep, still in her party dress, face down on her pillow, out cold from the night’s festivities and snoring.

Mattheo collapsed onto your bed, rolling onto his side and clutching a fluffy cushion to his chest as he curled into a ball. 

“I’ll just wait here, then.” He yawned through his words, but you were too busy to care, scrambling for a pot of ink and some new parchment. Taking a seat at your desk, you stared at the paper, quill hovering, ready to write.

So, I will spend the end of this year away from you. You say we’ll write, but I don’t want to. 

Only write to me, Tom, if you feel the same.  If not, don’t. Let me heal, and when we come back in the New Year, I promise, nothing will change except for my heart. 

We will still be friends, best friends, and we’ll never talk about it again.

I will wait for you.

Finishing the letter, you sighed at it, the ink drying and immortalising your words onto the page. Sitting before you was the sum total of what sat in your heart, and your mind. Laid out and ready to go, your hands trembled a little as you read it over, and over, to be sure. 

But you had to do this, you had to give this letter to him, to alleviate the strain on your heart, to finally have some closure. Whether he felt the same or not, you’d have relief. Folding it carefully, you searched a strip of wax seal lighting the end and waiting for it to get hot, drips of Slytherin green filling into a pool that overlapped the edge of your paper. When there was enough, you stamped it carefully, sealing it shut as the wax cooled. 

Taking a look behind you, you caught sight of a sleeping Mattheo, his jaw hanging open, drooling onto your favourite throw pillow, half tucked under your blankets from where he’s only bothered to cover his legs. Peeling away the wax seal, you walked over to him, shaking his shoulder, until he awoke with a huff and a groan, whining as he sat up. 

“I was dreaming.”

“I wrote the letter.” You show him the proof, and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, glancing from it, to you, and back. “You have to give it to him.”

“Now?”

“No! Not now. Tomorrow. After we get off the train.” He blinked a little more, waking up from his power nap and taking the paper from you. Flipping it over in his hands, he inspected Tom’s name across the front, no address, and raised his brows. 

“Why don’t you mail it?”

“That’ll take days, and I don’t want to leave it up to chance. I need you to give it to him, tomorrow. I know you’ll be swamped with everything your father expects of you both this time of year, events and frivolities and all, but you have to. I don’t want it getting lost amongst other letters and Christmas cards, and such.” Your hands clasped together before you, blinking at him pleadingly, and hoping your puppy-dog eyes were half as good as his.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself as he stood.

“Please, Matty.”

“Fine. I’ll give it to him.” He caved, and you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. 

“Tomorrow? After you get off the train?”

“Yes. I will give Tom the letter… tomorrow.”

Yours,

If you want me, 

(y/n) x

Tom double-checked his bags, sighing as he zipped up the piece of luggage he’d actually have access to on the train, everything he needed to survive a six-hour train journey. A knock sounded from the door, a signature one that only Mattheo ever used, excessively long and irritating, and the door swung open a second later to reveal his brother. 

Placing his carry-on down on the bed beside his own, Mattheo slumped out on his freshly-stripped bed. “You took your bags to the carriage already?”

“I got up early.”

“Surprising, I thought I’d have to drag you out of your bed this morning considering how much you drank last night.” He gave his brother a look, a single brow raised, and Mattheo just huffed. 

“It’s called having fun, you should try it sometime.”

Tom only rolled his eyes, gaze scanning across the bag Mattheo had abandoned, snagging on the letter sticking out of one pocket. T— was all that was visible. It might have been a card, that someone had addressed it to ‘Theo’ instead of Mattheo, but everyone called him ‘Matt’ if they wanted a nickname, to avoid confusion with Nott.

Curiosity ate at him, and nudging the bag subtly revealed just enough more to show an ‘O’. 

Definitely Tom, then. Mattheo was carrying a letter for him, and had not delivered it. Before he could pluck it from the pocket, his brother was sitting up, reaching for his bag and getting to his feet, swinging the letter out of his reach inadvertently. 

“Ready to go?”

“Is that letter for me?” Tom burst instead, making another move for the bag. His suspicions were only confirmed when Mattheo shifted his body, pulling the arm carrying the bag away from him, behind his body and out of Tom’s reach. “Why do you have it? When did it arrive?”

Mattheo turned casually, looking down at it, patting it and pushing it back into the bag, deeper. Tom recognised that handwriting now, though, and the urgency swelled. “Uh… last night, I think. But I was a little drunk, so…”

“Why didn’t you give it to me?” Tom pressed, biting his tongue from yelling at his brother, and Mattheo just shrugged. 

“Figured I’d give it to you on the train, or something. Or when we got home. It’s just a letter.”

“Yeah…” Tom could only hum in response, his mind spinning a little. Everyone had exchanged gifts and goodbyes last night, before the party. For exactly this reason, to avoid the morning rush to the train, to avoid the hassle in the morning. “But— I saw her last night. Why wouldn't she just give it to me then? Or mail it to me?” 

The questions were ceaseless, almost making Tom dizzy as he tried to think them through, and Mattheo could only shrug, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself. 

“I don’t know, Tom. She just came to me, and asked me to give you that letter because she didn’t want it to get lost amongst other letters, or take too long, or something like that.” It was a small lie, really, fabricated from aspects of the truth.

“So, it’s important, then! It’s obviously important if she couldn't risk it getting lost, if it had to be hand-delivered! I should read it.” Just like that, Tom stepped right into Mattheo’s trap. Now all he had to do was pull the pin, and let the steel jaws snap shut. Yes, it could potentially backfire hugely, but Mattheo was looking on the positive side for this. 

“We have to go, Tom. Everyone else has probably already left for the train.” Mattheo swung his bag again, making his point, and kicked Tom’s suitcase from where it sat beside the door towards him to pick up. “Let’s go.”

Tom sighed, grabbing his bags and taking a few steps after him, and didn’t even make it over the threshold of the door before he gave in. His bags dropped from his hands, and planted on his hips instead. “I’m going to read it.”

“Tom—”

“Give me the letter.” He held out his pal, and Mattheo tipped his head to the side, but pressed his lips together to hide a grin. “I’ll catch up, you go. I’ll read it and I’ll catch up, it’s only a letter, can’t take that long.”

He lunged for Mattheo's bag, snatching the crisply pressed paper from the pocket before his brother could stop him. As he turned away, he missed Mattheo’s victorious smile. “Alright, I’ll take your trunk down. Don’t be long, or you’ll miss the train.” And you’ll miss her, were Mattheo’s unspoken words, as he grabbed Tom’s suitcase and disappeared, leaving him alone. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tom’s hand shook a little. The paper felt like it weighed a thousand tons. There was so much unspoken mystery behind it that Tom was sure whatever this letter said, it was not their usual correspondence. Not the chatty, friendly, borderline flirty letters they’d send each other when apart, this was more. 

Sliding his thumb neatly under the wax seal he was so familiar with, Tom popped open the letter, unfolding it carefully and flipping it around to read. 

His gaze scanned over the paper, lips flicking up at the use of the nickname he only allowed you to use, the swirl of your handwriting that he loved so much. The smile didn’t last long, however, and neither did the breath in his lungs as his chest seized. He read it.

Over and over again, he read the letter. 

The minutes melted past as he absorbed what it said, until he could read the letter word for word without looking at it, tattooed into his mind now like a brand. With trembling fingers, he folded the letter back up carefully, lifting the paper to his lips as his eyes slid shut. 

His heart was pounding, more so than he’d ever felt. Tom was not one for rash decisions and sudden jumps, everything was calculated and thought through and planned. But this, this was you. This is just what you did, forced him to let go of routine and be spontaneous, forced him to be carefree, to loosen the grip he had on the reigns, to show him he wouldn't fall apart at the slightest breeze. 

He smiled against the letter, thoughts of you flicking through his mind. 

And then a clock chimed, and he jumped violently within as he was rushed back to reality in a split second. The clock in the common room chimed loudly, echoing through the empty dorms and halls. 

Rushing to his feet, Tom opened his bag, tucking the letter safely inside one of his books to preserve it, to tuck it inside the box of letters from you that was tucked under his bed at home. You doubted him, his feelings, unsure he’d kept that first letter, when in reality, he’d kept every single one.

Every letter, every note, even the silly little joke you scribbled on torn-off pieces of paper and threw at him in class, he kept them all.

Zipping his bag back up and grabbing it, he had no time to spare, racing to the chimes of the clock through the castle, to the front gates where the final carriage was leaving. 

It felt too long. Too long as the horses plodded through the snow, too long as the wheel scrolled slowly, and his foot tapped agitatedly on the floor in a way he never allowed himself to do. His thumbnail was between his teeth, flicking between the frost-covered ground and his bag, wondering if it would actually be faster to run there himself. 

Ahead, the train sounded its horn. The final warning for all students to begin boarding and settling in, because they’d be departing soon. 

You watched as the trunks were beginning loaded onto the train, all to be collected when you arrived in London, only letting out a breath of relief as Mattheo rounded the corner, finally joining your group. 

“Matty! About time, we were worried you’d miss the train.” Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he sighed, a little out of breath, and hugged you back once he dropped the two bags in his hands. Nobody followed him, and your brows furrowed, pulling back, “Where’s Tom?”

“He’s probably already on the train, sulking somewhere. He’s never late.” Theo snickered, and you rolled your eyes, smacking him across the shoulder for his joke. 

“Blaise is inside holding a cabin for us, is Tom not sitting with us?” Enzo questioned, and you turned to Mattheo, waiting for answers. 

“He’ll be here, trust me.”

“He’s late?” Draco asked, quickly followed by Enzo and Theo, all discussing it. Regulus stayed quiet, smoking and trying to hide it from being seen, but his expression was just as concerned as everyone else’s. 

The chatter continued on, by your worry didn’t cease, checking up and down the platform as people bustled and crowded it. Saying their final goodbyes and giving out hugs, climbing on and off the train as they all wished one another Merry Christmas, and being unable to see either end was causing your anxiety to rocket higher. 

The train horn blared again, and students began to board. “Mattheo, seriously, where is he—” Just like that, you saw him, the busy platform parting to let him through, the look on his face as terrifying as ever, and people moved out of his way as he made his way towards your group. 

“Told you he’d be here,” Mattheo smirked, and you raised a brow. 

“The hell did you say to him this morning, Matt?” Regulus questions. 

“He looks mad,” Draco murmured. 

“He looks like he’s plotting.” Enzo corrected.

Every step closer rose the tension as Tom finally looked up, his sights setting on you, and his jaw clenched. Brows drawn in, he did look like he was plotting, like a thousand thoughts were racing through his mind that he couldn't sort through. 

“Hey, man. We thought you were gonna’ miss the—” Draco’s words cut off at your squeak, as Tom stepped closer, never stopping the movements of his body until he was cupping your cheeks, his mouth descending upon your own. 

You were almost knocked backwards from the force of it, your hands gripping at his shoulders as he bent you over backwards, a kiss so intense your knees almost went weak. 

It was desperate, you could barely keep up, kissing back as best you could through your shock, until it wore off enough to reciprocate. Wrapping one arm around his neck, your other slipped to his face, his own hands making their way down, to band around your waist and pull you in closer, until your bodies were flush. 

His tongue licked into your mouth, a sigh escaping you as he did, and your heart pounded against your heart, the same way he was doing, felt through his jumper and layers. The boys were whistling, cheering and hooting, and if you weren’t so happy you’d have been embarrassed by the show they were making, and the attention they were no doubt drawing. 

When he finally pulled back, you panted softly, his forehead resting on your own, blinking his eyes open to meet your gaze. 

“Can I write to you regardless?” He mumbled, voice rough and tense with emotion, and your brows furrowed. 

“Wh— What?” 

He leaned in, not helping you clear your dazed mind at all as he kissed you again, and again, until you were smiling, fingers clenched so tight in his coat that your knuckles were white, just to stay upright. 

You pecked his lips once more, chasing him as he pulled back, and the train horn sounded, a final warning, but you didn’t care. “You know how I feel now. You don’t have to wait for my reply. You can be assured that I will miss you dearly over these two weeks, and I am already counting the minutes until I see you again. But can I write to you, still?”

As the realisation set in, your face flamed, jaw dropping a little bit, and he wasted no opportunity, kissing you softly. “You read my letter.”

He only nodded, a gentle chuckle onto your mouth as your lips brushed. “You’d leave it to Mattheo to deliver? He’d probably lose it at a McDonalds, trying to get a Big Mac before my father saw him, on the way home. 

Your laughter was sweet, a puffed-out sound as his hands smoothed up and down your back. “I’d love to get more letters from you, Tommy. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you in person, but I was scared. I thought I’d made my feelings for you obvious, and you didn’t reciprocate, so I had to write that letter. To get it out, to finalise it all.”

“I like to consider myself a smart man, you know. When it comes to you, clearly, I’m a fool. You leave me speechless, and without proper thoughts, every time. All I can think about is how pretty you are, and how much I like you, despite my best efforts not to.” 

The declaration was so utterly Tom, to hate being in love even if he loved it. 

“For Salazar’s sake, what have you done, Matt?” Theo cussed, and you twisted your head to look at him. “Shakespeare over here is going to be writing sonnets for the rest of the year. None of us will stand a chance with any other girls when he’s showing us up, standing under windows, yelling his love to the moon.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring their nonsense. Tom did the same, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, and leaving a kiss there.

“I’ll look forward to your letters, just as I did in the summer.” You whisper, pulling away from him as the platform clears, most students already aboard now.

“And after?” Tom questions, “May I still write you letters if I, too, find myself struggling to confess my feelings in person?”

“Oh, God,” Enzo muttered. “He’s going to be writing love letters all year. He’s making the rest of us sound like cavemen. Me, you, bed, now.” He grunted, smacking a fist in his chest. You giggled as Tom rolled his eyes. 

“We should get on the train.” You whisper, taking pity on the others and untangling yourself from his arms. 

Tom took his bag again, and your own. With a final kiss on your cheek, he walked away to the door of the carriage, letting the rest of you follow behind. Mattheo fell into step beside you, smirking as he bumped your hips with his own.

“So, should I tell my mother and father that they have a new daughter-in-law this holiday, or wait ‘til the next.”

His teasing made you blush again, cheeks already red in the cold, warming you under all those layers. “You’re a filthy traitor. You gave him my letter early.”

“I said I’d give it to him ‘tomorrow’. Never agreed to the after the train part.” He tutted, proud of himself. “Always pay attention to the words of a contract. My dear brother taught me that. You never have to break a promise, if you’re smart with your words.”

That sounded exactly like something your man would say, your eyes rolling to the Heavens. 

Mattheo leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper as the pair of you climbed the steps. “You never have to break your heart either, if you’re smart about who you give it to.”

[floralcyanidee]

ᴛʀɪᴘʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ

Bruce Wayne x Reader x Jonathan Crane (NSFW)

When you notice Dr. Jonathan Crane watching you and your husband at a fundraising party, you get a little curious. When Dr. Crane angers you, he presses you to explore that anger. Will he regret it?

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (both vaginal and anal), oral sex, cock warming, anal sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, porn without much plot, masturbation, forced masturbation, threesome, male x male, male x female, male x male x female, cum swallowing, spitting, face sitting, face fucking, crying, sub/dom tones, dom!reader, sub!jonathan, kinda sub!bruce but not really, ya know, just pure filth

word count: 5254

author’s note: welcome to our one-way ticket to hell besties <3 I didn't proofread this because it just poured out of me and I was truly possessed by the writing demon today. I had an idea and literally ran with it. I don't think I've ever written something so filthy before lol please enjoy and give feedback!! READ THE WARNINGS this fic isn't for everyone tbh.

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MOODBOARD FOR THIS FIC

One thing about being married to the Bruce Wayne was he had a thing for throwing parties and fundraisers at your mansion. This meant you had to dress up quite a bit, and you had to look really good as you were Bruce’s wife, of course. He always ensured you had the newest and most gorgeous gowns to show off at the gatherings. You’d spend the whole day getting your hair, makeup, and nails done, only to be at the parties for a few hours. And that was usually because Bruce had other duties in the city, he got too distracted by what you were wearing and needed you right then, or he simply let his antisocial side creep up on him. Tonight at the fundraiser he’s throwing, he seems content and has been by your side most of the night. Nothing drastic was going on in the city that demanded his action. But something was bothering him, you could tell. He’s slightly off, and you catch him staring at someone in the crowd a few times. You’re never able to pick them out, though. 

You and Bruce are by the champagne table, and you notice Bruce is gazing out into the crowd of partygoers again.

“Bruce?” you ask softly, putting a hand on his bicep, “You alright?”

Bruce blinks hard a few times before turning to you, “I’m fine, darling.”

“You sure? You seem distracted by something this evening,” you scan the room, but to no avail for whomever Bruce is focused on.

“I just thought I recognized someone,” Bruce says, sipping his drink.

“Hmm. Alright, then.”

“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” Bruce smiles, letting a hand slide across the small of your back.

“Only about a thousand times,” you giggle, leaning into your husband.

You happen to look up, and that’s when you see him staring at the two of you. Dr. Jonathan Crane. He quickly averts his eyes away, but you have already caught him.

“Is it Dr. Crane that you recognize?” you ask Bruce, motioning to where he’s standing with some other rich psychologists.

“Yeah,” Bruce exhales, shrugging, “I thought he had left the city a while ago.”

“After the asylum got turned loose? I figured so, too. Oh well,” you say, looking up at Bruce, “If he’s here, then he’s donating, so maybe it’s not so bad.”

“You have a point,” Bruce raises his eyebrows, “I’m still keeping an eye on him, though.”

You knew of a few of the villains Bruce has come in contact with, including Jonathan. He had almost killed your best friend and sent the whole city insane. Who knows what would have happened to Gotham if it weren't for Bruce. But a part of you is curious about Jonathan- a deep, intellectual part of you. Why is he still here? Is he still a doctor? Your brain becomes dizzy with all the questions. If Jonathan is here acting casually on his own accord, you could, too. You tear away from Bruce without a word, drink in hand. Bruce calls after you, panic surging through him when he realizes where you’re headed.

“Dr. Crane,” you smile upon arriving in front of him and another psychologist, “Wonderful to see you here.”

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne. I wouldn’t miss a marvelous party for a good cause. Have you met Dr. Robin here?” Jonathan smiles back, not missing a single beat.

“I have not,” you look over to the tall woman in front of Jonathan, clad in a pantsuit. You reach out a hand for her to shake, “Y/N Wayne.”

“I know who you are, Mrs. Wayne,” Dr. Robin says politely, her Australian accent strong, “Your dress is quite lovely, I must say.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, willing her to leave so you could speak with Jonathan alone. 

“Well, I’ll be off. Seems you two have something to discuss,” Dr. Robin announces her departure, much to your relief.

“It was nice meeting you,” you say sweetly as she walks away.

“You as well, Mrs. Wayne.”

You turn to Jonathan, who clears his throat as he looks you up and down. You’re nearly the same height as him, if not slightly taller, in your heels. 

“It’s really brave of you to be here, Dr. Crane,” you turn your head to the side, giving him a closed-lip smile.

“Please, call me Jonathan,” Jonathan responds, “And what would you mean by that?”

You take a step closer to him, leaning into his ear, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Jonathan. Or should I say, Mr. Scarecrow.”

Jonathan doesn’t flinch. In fact, he grins at you as he exhales a laugh, “Those days are behind me, I’m afraid.”

“Uh-huh,” you cross your arms, “And why should I believe you?”

Jonathan glances behind you to look at Bruce, who is on edge and watching the entire conversation to ensure nothing is tried. A muscle in Jonathan’s jaw twitches, “You don’t have to. But if I were up to no good, why would I be in the presence of the Batman and his lover? Quite unintelligent, wouldn’t you think?”

“And why are you here, exactly?” 

“Trying to get myself back into the Gotham scene,” Jonathan looks at you matter-of-factly, “I’ve missed a lot being gone, you know.”

“Oh, I do know. And maybe you should’ve stayed gone,” you try not to snarl at him.

“Now, now, Mrs. Wayne. That is no way to speak to a donor,” Jonathan says, his voice dripping like honey with malice.

“You better be glad there are people around or-”

“Or what?” Jonathan asks, raising his eyebrows, a smirk itching at his lips.

“I’d fucking break you right here.”

“Sounds like a fun time. However, I’m not sure your husband would appreciate that in many, many ways.”

You scoff, “Don’t be crass. I’m not flirting with you. If I were, you’d know it.”

“There’s a fine line between desire and hatred, my dear,” Jonathan whispers in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin, “It’s a fun line to walk.”

Annoyance swells in your chest. You desperately wanted him to shut his bratty mouth. You also wanted to enjoy the rest of the party, but now that Jonathan had you riled up in anger, you wanted nothing more than to slam him against the wall and-

“Everything okay over here?” Bruce approaches suddenly, taking you by surprise.

“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” you place your hand on Bruce’s chest as a warning, “Nothing to worry about.”

“Dr. Crane isn’t bothering you, is he?” Bruce’s nostrils flare.

“Not at all,” you defend the doctor, “In fact, I’m probably annoying him.”

Bruce laughs humorlessly, “Oh, is that so?”

You cock your head at him, “Did you need something, dear?”

“Just want to speak with you privately,” Bruce says.

You go to say something, but Bruce interrupts you, “Both of you.”

If Jonathan is just as confused as you are, he doesn’t show it. 

“Lead the way, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce walks briskly to one of the guest rooms down the hall from the ballroom, making sure no one is following or watching the three of you. He ushers you and Jonathan inside, following suit before closing the door behind him. 

“You know,” Jonathan says, breaking the silence, “I never pegged Mrs. Wayne for the threatening type out of the two of you.”

You bite your tongue, and Bruce looks over at you.

“Say what you want to say. I brought the two of you in here so you could solve your conversation away from those nosy fuckers outside,” Bruce rolls his eyes, fixing his cuff links.

“We aren’t children, Bruce,” you scowl.

“Then act like it,” Bruce sasses back.

“I do not need two men on my bad side right now. Remember what happens when you’re on my bad side, Bruce?”

Bruce looks between you and Jonathan, a hint of nervousness in his eye, “Don’t bring him into this, darling.”

“No, no. I’m curious now,” Jonathan grins deviously, stepping closer to you, “What happens when someone is on your bad side, Mrs. Wayne?”

Now realizing how your words and threats may have sounded all night to Jonathan, you backpedal.

“Not what you think, Dr. Crane,” you cross your arms, taking a step back from the doctor.

“Oh really? So your antagonizing and threats don’t mean anything?”

“What do you think they mean?”

“As I said earlier, desire and hatred are very close to one another,” Jonathan says suavely, “And I honestly can’t tell which you feel toward me.”

You make a disgusted sound despite the growing need to pin this man down and give him what for. Not even sexually, but simply because you’re tired of him speaking. However, Jonathan wasn’t bad-looking by any means- and sometimes, you and Bruce liked to try new things. But you don’t think Bruce would want to fuck with a murderer and criminal, especially one he’s had close encounters within the city. Jonathan almost burned him alive once, so you aren’t sure about whatever he’s insinuating going very far with your husband. 

“Hatred,” you spit, “It’s hatred. Plus,” you look over at Bruce, “I don’t think my lover would appreciate me having anything to do with you anyway.”

Jonathan snorts, his eyes flickering between you and your husband, “Are you so sure about that?”

You furrow your brow, laughing incredulously at him, “I’m certain.”

“I don’t know,” Bruce says suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the fucker squirm on your account, Y/N.”

You nearly gasped, suddenly very aware of the animosity you were aiming at Dr. Jonathan Crane, now becoming sexual in nature. Not that you meant for it to, but now that it was insinuated out loud by someone other than Jonathan, you pondered your true feelings. As you’ve said, Jonathan was a looker. If you weren’t married to Bruce and the man wasn’t psychotic, you wouldn’t mind taking him for a ride. But you are married, and he is psychotic. 

Jonathan has his hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk on his face as he studies you, “You want this. Don’t deny it, Mrs. Wayne. I can tell by the look in your eyes.”

You purse your lips together, “What I want is for you to shut up and behave. All you do is act high and mighty when you’re nothing but a little rat.”

Bruce tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, “I’ll let everyone know it’s time to leave. When I come back, you two better be taking care of things.”

You look at Bruce, who gives you a slight nod in approval to do as you wish before he steps out of the room. No one is in charge in the bedroom permanently between the two of you. The dominant role is shared or is back and forth, depending on the day. To your shock, Bruce gives you the complete reins in this situation. But Bruce knew how much you despised Dr. Crane for what he’s done, even if a part of you is desperately curious about him. Desperate enough to demean him sexually, even. You want to humiliate him. Make him cry and make him regret having even come here. You want him to think of you whenever he feels shame or embarrassment for the rest of his life. 

“A little rat, huh?” Jonathan chuckles, undoing his cufflinks.

“Yes,” you blink, forcing him to walk backward to the bed as he struggles to remove his blazer.

You shove him roughly onto the bed, watching him bounce from the mattress with a look of disorientation. Jonathan eventually gets his blazer off, discarding it onto the floor. You can’t properly climb on the bed with your gown on, so you reach behind your back, undoing the clasps that hold the silver dress together. You kick off your glittery heels, letting the gown slip to the floor in a pile. Underneath your dress, you decided a black lingerie set would do nicely. You’re glad you picked well, considering such a doting man was now staring at you like you were a piece of meat and he was starving. You try to ignore the logical side of your brain telling you this man is dangerous and crazy. But the other side of your brain is telling you that his cock is definitely dangerous and crazy, too. And you wanted to find out for sure. 

“Now,” you begin to crawl to where Jonathan wordlessly lays, watching you carefully, “Are you going to be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boy?”

“No promises,” Jonathan flashes a toothy grin, and you angrily rip his button-up open, buttons flying everywhere across the room.

Jonathan’s mouth hangs open, “That was an expensive shirt.”

“Nothing you can’t replace,” you shrug, running your hands along Jonathan’s handsome chest before letting your nails graze his nipples.

Jonathan shudders at the feeling, and you remove your hands from him, sitting back on your heels, “Lay on the pillows.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Jonathan purrs, doing as told, surprisingly.

You hear the door open behind you, and you turn around quickly to see Bruce.

“Everyone is cleared out. Brought some fun stuff, too,” he places a box on the floor, kicking it to the end of the bed for you to grab it.

You lean down over the edge of the bed and retrieve the box, crawling on your knees to where Jonathan lies. You open the box and hum in satisfaction at Bruce’s choice of toys and trinkets. You fiddle with one toy, dragging your gaze to Jonathan with a wicked smile on your face. But before you reveal the toy, you snatch some rope out of the box.

“Now you have no choice but to be good, Dr. Crane,” you snicker, offering Bruce some of the rope to tie Jonathan’s left wrist to the bedpost with.

You tie Jonathan’s right wrist tight enough for him not to move too much but not enough to where blood flow is cut off. Jonathan tugs at the rope, looking at you and Bruce with a nervous yet exhilarating smile.

“I’m privileged to be living such a fantasy,” Jonathan sighs.

“You’ll be wishing you had never stepped foot in this house when she’s done with you,” Bruce smirks, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves up.

“Ah,” Jonathan laughs.

Before he can comment any further, you shove a ball gag into his mouth, strapping it behind his head securely. A deep feeling of satisfaction to him finally being quiet fills you. But the joy of seeing such an evil man at your mercy is more intense. 

“You better be glad I chose the ball gag instead of having Bruce have his way with that pretty mouth of yours, Crane,” you say, and Bruce shakes his head from where he stands beside the bed.

Drool begins seeping out of the sides of Jonathan’s mouth, and you can’t help but coo at the sight of his tightening pants and his reddening cheeks. You grab his face between your fingers, squishing his flesh. You hum in satisfaction before letting go of his face and focusing on his slacks. You all but tear his belt off his hips, hurrying to unbutton his pants before ripping them down his thighs. Bruce removes the pants the rest of the way as you climb onto Jonathan’s lap, your clothed core atop his throbbing, leaking bulge.

You kiss Jonathan’s jaw, leaving harsh bites along the column of his throat as you travel down, continuing your assault on the skin of his chest and torso. You reach the band of his underwear, which you tease with your hands, snapping the band against Jonathan’s skin. He tries his best to laugh from underneath the ball gag, spit sputtering from the gaps of his mouth. You slowly peel his underwear down his legs, watching as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. You let Bruce pull the underwear off completely, and he tosses it somewhere in the room to be found later. You lean down to lick the bead of precum off Jonathan's tip before pulling away completely, allowing Bruce the room to tie up the doctor’s ankles to the bottom bedposts. You stand at the foot of the bed, chuckling darkly as Jonathan struggles against the restraints. 

“Not so powerful now, are you, Dr. Crane?” you laugh, knowing he didn’t like you calling him by his professional name, “You look so pathetic, lying there with your poor cock out for us to see. Bet you wish one of us would touch it for you, hmm?”

Jonathan stays silent, his eyes boring into yours as he yanks his arms, testing the rope’s strength. He realizes he truly can’t move or speak and that he’s entirely at you and Bruce’s mercy. Not the worst position to be in, Jonathan thinks. 

“Which of us should do the honors?” you ask Bruce, a playful smile on your face. 

It isn’t often Bruce gets to mess with the other man during your experimental sexual encounters. Still, you figure this is personal enough for him to want to be involved. 

“You can take this one. I’ve got other plans,” Bruce says, smirking deviously.

“Oh really?” you grin, “I’m excited to see those.”

You climb back on the bed, moving toward Jonathan’s lap, where his weeping cock is getting redder by the second. Grabbing the base of it, you move it forward enough for it to meet your lips. You lap your tongue on Jonathan’s tip, smearing the precum around before licking a stripe up his entire length. You pull away, letting his cock slap painfully against his stomach again. You harshly grip Jonathan’s balls, causing him to cry out muffled. You massage them as you take his length into your mouth, bobbing your head as you continue to take him in entirely. You press your breasts into the bed, letting your ass be exposed for Bruce to take advantage of as you suck off Jonathan. Bruce wastes no time walking over to you, letting his hands run over your asscheeks before he pulls your pretty black underwear off. Bruce dips his head down to flatten his tongue against your wet slit, gathering your arousal as he swirls it around your cunt. You moan around Jonathan’s cock, causing him to twitch. 

“God, I love this pussy,” Bruce pants against you, “Too bad you can’t get a taste, Crane.”

You peer your eyes up to Jonathan’s, his icy blue eyes now dark from his blown pupils. He’s glaring at Bruce, trying to regulate his breathing as his tip hits the back of your throat. Jonathan’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you fuck him with your mouth, letting his cock slam into your throat. Jonathan tries to thrust into your mouth, but you push his hips down against the mattress. You’re slobbering, and tears are streaming down your face as you take his length as much as you can, wanting him to get as close to cumming as possible. Bruce sucks your clit harshly, letting two fingers slip into your wet pussy. You groan, the vibrations sending Jonathan batty. You feel him getting close, and you blindly fumble around for the box of toys that still remains on the bed somewhere. You find it, pulling off Jonthan’s cock as it twitches uncontrollably. He growls as you find the toy you were looking for. You give Jonathan a few pumps, gripping his length as tight as you can, watching as the precum helplessly spills from him. Before Jonathan can react or cum, you slip a cock ring onto him, sliding it down to his base. He cries out from behind the ball gag, his chest heaving. You lay your head on his thigh, watching as his cock turns bright red. Bruce continues to eat you out, his teeth brushing against your clit occasionally, causing you to moan. Your breath hits Jonathan’s angry length, making him shiver. You look him in the eyes as Bruce adds a third finger, fucking into your g spot harshly as he bites at your bundle of nerves. You maintain eye contact with Jonathan as you cum, letting your nails dig into the soft flesh on his thighs.

“Lucky for me,” you trace Jonathan’s tip teasingly with your finger, catching your breath, “I get to cum as much as I want.”

Jonathan stares at you without making a sound, focusing on his breathing so he doesn’t explode into a fine mist from the overstimulation. 

“Now it’s your turn since you’ve been a good boy,” you remove the ball gag from Jonathan’s mouth, licking up his spit from his lips before he can lick it off himself.

“Open your mouth,” you demand, and Jonathan does as told.

You gather his and your saliva in your mouth before spitting it onto his tongue. 

“Now show me how good you are at eating pussy, Dr. Crane.”

You flip yourself around, hovering over Jonathan’s face as you slowly remove the cock ring. Bruce removes his button-up, laying down between Jonathan’s spread legs. Jonathan lets out a strangled cry at the feeling of Bruce’s hot mouth on his sensitive cock. You push your pulsing cunt onto Jonathan’s face, to which he happily starts lapping hungrily. You watch as Bruce hollows his cheeks around Jonathan, and the sight alone makes you even wetter than before. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, Bruce’s eyes meeting yours.

You rock your hips against Jonathan’s tongue, urging him to continue. Jonathan wishes he could bury his fingers in your cunt, but he settles for his tongue instead. Twisting and pushing it inside you, he uses his nose to press against your clit, shaking his head. You grip Jonathan’s hair, cursing at the feeling of his tongue dragging in your walls and his nose flicking your bundle of nerves. You grasp your barely clothed breasts, letting your thumbs play with your nipples through the thin lace. Bruce moans around Jonathan while watching you, letting Jonathan fuck into his throat.

“Wanna cum, you piece of shit?” Bruce pulls off Jonathan, who gasps a ‘yes,’ “Be careful what you ask for,” Bruce chuckles.

You plan on milking the doctor for all he’s got all night. You want him spent and begging for mercy. Anything to make him miserable.

Bruce takes Jonathan back into his mouth, bobbing up and down quickly and stroking what he won’t take into his mouth. Bruce allows Jonathan to buck his hips into his face. Jonathan lets out a pitiful cry as he cums in your husband’s mouth, white-hot spurts of seed shooting down Bruce’s throat. You feel Jonathan roll your clit between his teeth before sucking it between his lips as he rides his high. You growl, letting your self-control go out the window. You chase your own high, letting Jonathan torture and tease your bundle of nerves with his tongue and teeth until you finally release in his mouth. Jonathan slurps and suckles every drop of your arousal from your cunt, licking until you pull off him. 

“Lucky for you,” you pant, beginning to untie the rope bound to Jonathan’s wrists, “This next part requires your cooperation. Promise you’ll behave?”

“Yes, Mrs. Wayne,” Jonathan nods.

You let Bruce finish untying the doctor as you discard your bra. You instruct Jonathan to move to the side, allowing you to lie down in his place. You demand that Jonathan climb on top of you. he does as told, and Bruce roughly pushes Jonthan’s face into your chest. You laugh at Bruce’s typical roughness, especially when it makes Jonathan look flustered. His ass is now in the air, revealed to Bruce. 

“Have you ever been fucked in the ass like a good boy?” you ask Jonathan, your fingers in his hair.

He doesn’t look at you or respond.

“I’m asking you a question, Jonathaaan,” you say threateningly, your fingers now gripping his hair harshly as you lift his head for him to look at you.

“No,” Jonathan says breathlessly.

“Well, that’s about to change,” you say, “Any regrets about being smart-mouthed to me yet, Dr. Crane?”

Jonathan glares at you, panting as Bruce spreads his ass apart, “Not yet.”

“Good,” you smile, letting his head drop abc to your chest, “Now obey me and show me how much you’re enjoying this.”

You move Jonathan’s face, maneuvering his mouth to your hardened and sensitive nipple. Bruce takes some lube from the box he brought, smearing it against his fingers before teasing Jonathan’s asshole with the tip of his index finger. Jonathan keens around you, his body beginning to shake as Bruce slowly pushes a finger inside him. Jonathan sucks harshly on your nipple, gasping as your husband wiggles his finger inside his tight ass. He laps at your bud, focusing on trying to please you and taking Bruce’s long finger simultaneously. A second finger is added, stretching Jonathan further. The doctor lets out a sharp groan at the delectable burn. He attacks your other breast, letting his finger circle around the one he was just attached to. Bruce prods a third finger into Jonathan, and he lurches forward from the feeling of fullness. 

“If you think you’re full now, just wait for Bruce’s fat cock, baby boy,” you taunt.

Bruce twists and curls his fingers inside Jonathan, doing his best to prep him for his unforgiving length. When he pulls his hand away, Jonathan gasps from the sudden emptiness. Bruce spreads his ass apart again, his slacks and underwear now discarded as his hardened cock pressed against Joanthan’s gaping hole. Jonathan whimpers around your nipple, pausing momentarily as Bruce slides himself into Jonathan. 

“Fuck,” Jonathan shudders.

“You can stop now. I need you elsewhere,” you pull Jonathan’s head off your breasts, sneaking your hand between the two of you to his newly hardened cock, stroking it in your hand in time for Bruce to bottom out. 

Jonathan whines, collapsing on your torso as the air leaves him.

“Tapped out already?” you pout, sticking your bottom lip out at Jonathan when you lift his head by his hair again, “Too fucking bad.”

Bruce then pulls out of Jonathan almost all the way before slamming back into him, his tip brushing against Jonathan’s prostate. Jonathan screams as you guide his cock between your slick folds, his body overstimulated. You let Jonathan weakly push his length inside your soaking cunt, your walls enveloping him immediately. Bruce wraps an arm around Jonathan’s chest, anchoring himself to the doctor. His other hand grips Jonathan’s hip with intensity. The feeling of Bruce pounding into Jonathan’s tight little ass affects you directly as Jonathan pushes deeper inside you every time Bruce thrusts into him. Soon, a rhythm is established, and you’re nearly in tears from pleasure as you watch Jonathan become a withering, crying mess underneath Bruce. 

“Doing so good taking Bruce’s huge cock,” you praise Jonathan, bucking your hips with his every time he involuntarily moves forward, “You could at least try a little harder to fuck me like you want to, though.”

Jonathan’s forehead is teeming with sweat as he struggles to actually thrust into you while Bruce fucks into his prostate. You give him the benefit of the doubt- the first time getting fucked in the ass is intense. So you rock and swivel your hips on Jonathan’s cock roughly, letting him reach up to grab your breasts for leverage. He pinches your nipples, twisting them hard, sending electricity to your cunt. You pulse around Jonathan’s length, causing him to grunt miserably. Bruce’s hips are slapping onto Jonathan’s asscheeks loudly, and Jonathan’s cock twitches pitifully inside you.

“Cum, sweet thing,” you coax Jonathan, whose hair has long since lost its gel hold and has begun flopping into his face, “Cum inside me.”

Jonathan starts fucking into you the best he can, tears streaming down his face as he cums, a hoarse scream leaving his throat. Bruce is still fucking him without mercy, and you let Jonathan’s soft cock remain inside you as he whimpers helplessly, his hands gripping your sides.

“That’s it,” you praise him gently, “Let Batman fuck you silly like you deserve.”

Jonathan peers up at you, giving you the dirtiest look he can muster as you cackle, Bruce grunting as he cums inside Jonthan’s ass and on his back. 

“Christ,” Bruce sighs, pushing his hair from his face as he winces, pulling out of Jonathan’s quivering asshole.

Jonathan collapses on top of you in a mess of sweat, tears, and cum. You let him catch his breath before sliding out from under him.

“One last thing, sweetie,” you say, your tone sugary, “Sit up on the bed for us.”

Jonathan weakly pushes himself up, flipping onto his back and laying his head on the pillows.

“Touch yourself,” you demand, sitting on your knees at the end of the bed beside Bruce, “I want you to cum until you can’t cum anymore.”

Jonathan opens his mouth to protest, but you motion for him to shush, to which he tiredly gives in. You dip your hand to your slick clit, swiping at it as Jonathan strokes his sensitive cock for you. Bruce watches you and Jonathan touch yourselves, unable to really get himself up again. He instead sits behind you, playing with your tits and rubbing his large hands on your hot, sticky skin. Bruce relishes in watching Jonathan fall apart as he looks away in embarrassment.

“Keep your eyes on me, Crane,” Bruce’s voice booms, making Jonathan jump.

Jonathan gulps, reluctantly keeping eye contact with Bruce as he bucks into his hand, moaning hoarsely as he gets close. He can’t help but think about how he was between the two of you, getting fucked by you and Bruce at the same time. With that, cum shoots from his overused cock onto his stomach, and he cries out in embarrassment when you demand he get off again.

You stay like that, letting Bruce replace your hand as you spread your legs further open to allow him to fuck you with his fingers. You bounce on them, moaning quietly as Jonathan fights to keep his eyes open, his wrist flicking to the best of his ability. The night goes on, and Jonathan eventually taps out, sobbing almost uncontrollably as he runs out of cum. You and Bruce give him time alone before slowly moving him to the shower, where you help him wash off. You and your husband also washed yourselves off, assisting Jonathan out of the shower when you were all done. He’s wrapped in a towel, wincing as he walks back to the bed and curls up under the covers. You follow suit, wrapping your arms around Jonathan and soothing him as he finally falls asleep. Bruce holds you from behind, sighing contently.

“Too bad it takes doing this to humble a villain,” Bruce jokes.

“And the fact I could help was exciting,” you chuckle, “I never get to fight criminals like you do.”

“Maybe you should. You’ve got the mouth for it. Your sass is unmatched,” Bruce buries his nose in your hair.

“Mmm, I think I’m good,” you say, stroking Jonathan’s hair out of his face, “One villain is enough for me, I think.”

You and Bruce quietly watch the evil, despicable fucker sleep soundly. 

“Can we keep him?” you ask Bruce, to which he tries not to burst out laughing.

“So you can torture him more? Absolutely.”

“Awesome.”

taglist:

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[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ vox + his tendency to laugh out words

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, toxic relationship, fem!reader words: 541

thinking about vox’s tendency to laugh out his words ♡ 

thinking about the way he would giggle out in a whisper how fucking pretty you are in the back of his sleek, expensive car after some corporate event, one hand creeping up the slit of your evening gown as the waning silver beams of the moon struggle to compete with the neons of the city, the knuckles of the other brushing hair back from your temples, then skimming along the curve of your cheek, the edge of your jaw, the arch of your neck in a tender caress ♡ 

thinking about the incredulous little laugh he’d huff out when it’s just the two of you, when you’re tangled up in each other’s limbs, damp bodies knotted together and ragged breathing entwined, when the day was rough and stressful and he found sweet salvation in your cunt, panting out in a single breathless melody how lucky he is to have you, how lucky he is to have found you, voice tinged with disbelief that he could’ve come across something so beautiful, so special, so loving in the depths of hell ♡ 

thinking about that cruel, caustic chuckle that claws at the back of his throat, that’s paired with a sharp glare and a sharper tongue when he asks if you’re fucking stupid, when he calls you a silly little girl, when he tells you to keep that mouth of yours quiet, because you know nothing; his three favourite responses to you digging your cute nose into something you shouldn’t be. sit down, shut up, look pretty; those are your commandments, the trail that always follows after one of his malignant orders ♡

thinking about that booming guffaw that rumbles from deep within his chest, that shakes his entire form as it splits his lips into a broad, open-mouthed grin, stretched so wide that it consumes more than half of his entire face, that it scrunches his eyes to cute little crescents and furrows his brows when something exceptionally exciting happens, when he’s so thrilled and thrumming with exhilaration that he just cannot keep it contained inside of him—a rare sight, one reserved for the company of his closest confidants, but a sight you cherish nonetheless ♡

thinking about that dark, dangerous titter that always stains those sudden declarations he has when he’s scheming, those decisive thoughts stated strong and firm and with conviction, the amusing sound only working to fortify his words—a powerful punctuation at the end of something certain—after that wickedly intelligent brain has hatched another sinister plan, brilliant but terrifying ideas worming around in his skull to form a knot of something diabolical ♡

thinking about that gentle laugh that spills past his lips unthinkingly and uncontrollably, that infuses a delicate i love you—so soft, so sweet, so goddamn sincere—any time you do something he finds cute or unexpected, the usually harsh glow of his eyes dimmed with affection. and out of all of his laughs, this one is your favourite, because this laugh is private, is special, is something just for you. this laugh is shared and sacred, melts from one mouth into another between messy tongues and pawing hands and stumbling ankles. this laugh is yours to keep, forever ♡ 

[xxshujiswhorexx]

Baby Bunny~

(Chapter 1)

Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader

After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…

Frankly, Vox was a stressed out man.

Endless meetings to attend, scripts to review, and catastrophes to clean up; very little could consistently relax the poor man. Luckily, one of these particular vices just happened to be readily available; you.

Oh, how he loved to watch you flit around his offices, big floppy ears twitching with concentration, large brown eyes peering up at him, searching for approval and validation. It almost made him feel guilty, the way you obeyed his every beck and call.

Regardless, your presence had become a somewhat comforting one in his workplace, ever since you had the unfortunate fall from earth following your untimely death. Your loyalty to the overlord only made sense, given his boundless generosity towards you, providing you with a job as his personal assistant, as well as a small flat inside his studio.

Thus, when he discovered that Valentino had decided to send you on an ‘errand’, he was less than pleased. Of course, you with your unbridled kindness and timidity couldn’t even think of refusing such a request, despite the sex maniac holding no legitimate power over you. So, off you went, suddenly feeling rather exposed in your open white blouse and tight leather skirt (a favourite outfit of Mr Vox), as you wandered through Pentagram City, glancing back occasionally at the directions that Mr Valentino had so graciously provided.

All of a sudden, you feel yourself slam into something, or more aptly, someone. Your nose begins to twitch in fear of the consequences, knowing full well the cruelty of the sinner residing in the area. Peering up at the stranger with teary eyes, you mumble an apology, and pull yourself back up on shaky legs.

“Not to worry, my dear! Accidents happen, of course! Although, you really should watch where you are walking, darling.”

The static in his voice, almost tangible, sends shivers down your spine, his glowing eyes intensely staring into your own, as if to bear witness to your very soul.

“How rude of me, I neglected to introduce myself. I’m Alastor, darling, the Radio Demon.”

The man, Alastor, extends a hand to greet you, but the mention of his title causes you to freeze, and flinch away in fear. The demon’s smile strains in reaction, appearing confused and mildly offended.

“T-the Radio Demon? M-Mr Vox said I’m not allowed to speak to you..”

Alastor’s grin tightens at this comment, his snarl baring gums, yet he chooses to feign ignorance.

“My dear, it’s impolite to not return a greeting.”

Due to the mild threat in his tone, you reluctantly tell him your name, your bunny ears twitching in fear, as you look up at him.

“Now, my dear bunny, wherever were you off to on this fine morning?”

“Mr Valentino w-wanted me to s-speak to Angel Dust about his s-supposedly ‘poor work ethic’. S-so, I was h-hoping to find him at the Hazbin Hotel..” you trail off, unsure of how much information you could safely disclose.

But Alastor’s grin only brightens at the news.

“Well, my dear, you’re in luck! I was just about to head over there myself!” With that, he pulls you closer to him, evoking a surprised yelp from you, and wraps his arm tightly around your waist, setting off at a brisk pace.

Alastor hums a jolly tune, seemingly ignorant to your struggles in keeping up with his quick pace, almost being dragged along. Finally, once you had reached your destination, he finally releases you, this time choosing to grab you by your arm. But, for some reason, he chooses to spare a moment, and look you over.

You stood a fair bit shorter than him, having to crane your neck to meet his eyes, but furthermore you were simply trembling with fear. Your nose was twitching, your floppy ears fluttering with anxiety, and your doe eyes refusing to meet his gaze.

You truly were just adorable. Oh, he was going to have fun breaking you.

And with that, he flung open the hotel doors, the action catching you off guard, as you jump again.

“Awfully jumpy today, my dear? Why, is everything alright?” He asks with a condescending grin.

“Just peachy, Mr Alastor.” You manage to mumble out a reply, starting to overcome your fear of the radio demon.

“Now, now, you mustn’t lie, my darling. But, trust me, you have nothing to fear here.” He draws you closer again, his clawed hand playing with your hair, as you looked up with a tight frown. Once he got bored of your lack of reaction, he decided to switch his focus, petting your bunny ears. This action caught you off guard, their sensitivity causing you to whimper, bringing a hand to your mouth to stifle your noises. Alastor’s grin grew ever wider, finding a new way to push your buttons. He increases pressure on his ministrations, causing you to yelp as your jelly legs gave out and you collapsed against his chest. He finally relents in favour of hoisting you back up onto your shaky legs and wobbly knees, forcing a whine from you at the loss of contact. He chuckles darkly at your compliance, your passive nature truly pleasing him. Perhaps he should keep you around; that truly would annoy Vox… but that’s a thought for another day. For now, he needed to build trust in you.

“Toots? What are ya doin here, cutie?”

Angel’s New York drawl fills the room, his voice full of concern.

“M-Mr Val sent me, Angie. Please, I-I don’t want you to get hurt…” your eyes well up at the thought of poor Angel’s contract, as he rushes over to hold you.

“I just came to warn you, Angie. Mr Val isn’t pleased. He’s mad at you, and he’s gonna make it hard for you. P-please, Angie, come back, for your own sake. I miss you…” you trail off, sniffling.

“I know ya do cutie, and it’s ok that big V’s mad at me. I can take it, sugar. But, toots, what about you? Does Vox know ya here? He’s gon be real mad that you been hanging with smiles over there.” Angel rebukes you, concerned for your own wellbeing.

“M-Mr Val said he’d tell Me Vox that he’d sent me on an errand for him, so I think I’ll be fine…”

“Sure, toots, whateva ya say.” He pulled you in for a tight hug, as you buried your head in his chest fluff.

Angel seemed a lot happier now. You were glad that he had begun to escape Mr Val’s clutches.

“Angel, who’s this?” A chipper voice interrupted your thought, as you were greeted by a tall blonde girl, who seemed ecstatic to see you.

“Charlie, this is Y/N. She’s Vox’s assistant and just came ta check up on me. Y/N, this is Princess Charlie Morningstar; she runs this shitty hotel where I’m stayin.”

Suddenly aware that you were in front of Royalty, you bowed nervously and squeaked out a greeting. Your timidness was met with aws and statements of your cuteness, causing your face to darken slightly out of embarrassment.

“Well isn’t she just adorable! Now my dear friends and guests, I believe I should be escorting our dear bunny back to her workplace. After all, we wouldn’t want your boss to worry about, would we? “

You gulped at Alastor’s words, nodding your head vigorously, as he once again, grabbed you by the arm and began marching away.

“See ya, cutie! Come visit sometime!” Angel yelled as you left.

“Bye-bye, Angie! I’ll definitely come see you again!”

And with that, you set off towards the entertainment district.

[sriracharocks]

Tom Riddle Headcanons

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

possessive

like, VERY possessive

gets frequently jealous when you talk to boys (because"no one gets to enjoy what's mine")

not really into PDA, reserved in public (except hand holding and the occasional show-off that you're his by kissing you in front of everyone every now and then)

can't get his hands off of you in private

motivates you to study ("my girlfriend must also have the best grades in the school")

is quick to anger but calms down at your soothing caresses

loves it when you hug him but would never admit it out loud

knows about all of your little bodily imperfections and loves them

remembers every detail about you (yes, even the backstory behind the scar you got as a kid when you fell off the slide)

rough in bed, but can be gentle if you ask him nicely

appreciates every thing you do for him, no matter how big or little

would wage the next Trojan War for you if you're not in his line of sight

puts poison in your enemy's pumpkin juice in the Great Hall during breakfast ("your enemy is my enemy too")

always finds time for you, no matter how busy he gets with his ambitions to conquer the Wizarding World