#I mean I know we all know this but that extremely brief eye flick and smirk

[eldritch-bf]

He is not Looking at Her.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 25th. tom — anal sex / sexual punishment.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: basically how i see a tom riddle punishment playing out. biblical tom of sorts. so self assured its impossible to piss him off so you go to lengths some may consider extreme but…eh. he knows you’re his.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, UNI hogwarts (obvs but just a reminder) reader and tom have an…interesting dynamic, toxic but also not toxic because it works for them, anal sex (obvs), sexual punishment, brief fingering, copious amounts of dirty talk, i once again utilize my favourite place in the school (the library).

"Tom—"

With a hand raised, he cuts you off. "Don't."

You blink. Swallow. Blink again. He's mad—oh, yes, he's mad—more than you've ever seen him and you once watched Abraxas Malfoy knock over his potion during a heavily-weighted exam.

That, in currency to this, is pennies.

You breathe in, try again. "Look, I can explain—"

He doesn't let you. Within a second his wand is out and with a flick of his wrist the room shifts to static—the glimmer from the silencing charm he just cast settles over your corner of the library, and you feel your fingers go numb—

"Why'd you stop?" He cocks his head, brow raised. His jaw is tight, the tension there burning into the space between you. His fingers flex. You can feel how much he's holding back. "If there's an explanation, by all means. I'd love to hear it."

Right—yeah, an explanation. That should help. Certainly, the man staring at you like he has bullets for eyes and knives for fingers will understand—he'll be completely calm once you explain to him you kissed someone else in retribution—because you wanted to get back at him.

"Well, I—" you push up from the desk, desperate to feel bigger, to level with him somehow. Tom thrives in this—having the upper hand, knowing all he has to do is stare at you, all stillness and quiet fury. He knows you hate it, that you'll spiral under it until you break and present him your neck on a silver platter. Until you hand him the knife and beg him to cut. "We had that argument, and I thought—I thought, maybe—you didn't—"

He moves closer. The air thickens. You're too focused on the fire in his eyes to acknowledge the sound of his wand clattering onto the desk—

"You thought?" His voice is something almost bored, like this is a trivial exercise for him—you can barely hear him over the roar of your pulse in your throat.

"—that you didn't want me anymore!"

You force the words out in a desperate rush, and the silence that follows feels like a goddamn canyon—you're just staring at each other, scowling in the wake of what you just said because you both know how utterly foolish it sounds. The only person Tom Riddle has and will ever allow himself to be vulnerable in front of—and you thought he'd leave after a silly argument.

No. You never thought that for a second.

And so, you try to save yourself. "Tom—I-I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry, I know I fucked up—but, it's not just me—I mean, you could have communicated better—"

He takes another step toward you, nodding along as if he's humoring you. "Right."

You step back—you don't mean to but the depleted space between you feels dangerous and your body reacts before you can stop it.

"Maybe—maybe we can learn from this? Right? A lesson for—for us both?" You keep talking. You don't know why, but you do. "And, maybe you could, uh, learn to talk about your feelings better?"

You wince as his eyebrows shoot up, mocking you without saying a word. Tom Riddle, talking about his fucking feelings? Right.

"I mean—you're just—" you hesitate because you know you're digging your own grave, yet he's still staring, daring you to finish. "—you're just so hard to read, you know?"

Another bored nod, another step closer. "Of course."

You swallow, stumbling back—of course Tom knows he's hard to read, that's the point. Every word out of your mouth is a wasted effort, a desperate attempt to reason with someone who's beyond it. Your ass collides with the desk behind you, boxing you in—and suddenly, he's there, right in front of you, all of his typical Tom intensity pouring into the limited space between you.

His breath brushes against your cheek, close enough that his lips could meet yours. But you know they won't. He'd never make it that easy. You can't tell if it's fear or something more wicked that twists in your chest. Dread, excitement—God, maybe both—

"You tried to provoke me."

Your throat tightens around a swallow. He isn’t asking.

"Maybe."

He doesn't blink. "You tried to see if I'd care."

You open your mouth, only to close it just as quickly. What can you say that he doesn't already know? You're as transparent as glass to him, and even that is a goddamn understatement. All you offer is a slow nod, unsure but weighted—he wasn't looking for an answer, he was looking for submission.

"And you thought, maybe, that I would come to you. That I would react. That l'd be angry." His fingers brush up your cheek, slipping into your hair with the kind of intimacy that feels out of place given the circumstances. And, inevitably, when the pull comes biting at your scalp, it's a burn you enjoy more than you should. "Were you hoping I'd punish you?"

"Well—I-"

"You know, don't you," he tugs your hair again to quiet you. Every question he's asking is rhetorical. "You know that trying to provoke me is dangerous."

You nod, fast. "I know."

"You know that I don't like to be provoked."

"I know, I know, I-"

"Shh." His lips brush over your neck, just once—a soft, fleeting thing that promises everything and nothing at once. You can't help the way you lean into him. "You're just making this worse for yourself. No more talking."

You choke on your stupid ego, but force a nod. You asked for this. You won't fight him on it. Not here. Not now.

"Good." He hums, and you feel your heart dance, stomach leap at the barest flicker of approval in his tone. His breath skates over your jaw, and you try not to shake. "You want to show me how sorry you are, don't you?"

You nod again.

"Good." He tugs at your bottom lip and something curls at the corners of his own that doesn't quite qualify as a smile. "Turn around."

With your heart on the floor beneath your feet, you nod for a final time before doing as he asked. You find that turning is a difficult task, though not due to resistance—your body just won't cooperate—a mess of weak knees and shallow breaths and tingling skin. You do it, though, with his hand on your hip, guiding you, directing you, pushing you over the desk until you're bent at the waist, positioned just how he wants.

It's merely a moment before you feel him pressed against your back, feel his belt buckle digging into your ass—

"What do you think I should do to you?" His breath grazes the nape of your neck and reflexively, you arch into him—his hands slide up your thighs, hips, finding your waist and the band of your skirt—he tugs at your zipper, you remain quiet. You know he doesn't want you to answer. "I'm sure you had your hopes. Your assumptions."

Tom Riddle, you've determined, is a torturous lover—a slow hand, a tease until you're in tears from the overstimulation. A sort of devotee to fulfilling your needs while simultaneously tempering his own. He's so very restrained, in everything he does—not fervent, not right away, anyway—

"Maybe you hoped I'd degrade you. Remind you of your place." He tugs down the zipper, letting the fabric fall to the ground at your feet—you shudder and pull your lips tight, willing yourself to stay silent as the cool air hits you. Tom's hand roams over one of your asscheeks, pawing lazily before tapping his palm against it. “Maybe you wanted me to make you feel it."

—he only rushes—he's only careless when he's angry.

And god, he's angry now.

"Maybe." You force the reply through the sting he left on your skin. It's past midnight—quiet is everything but you two, and you're almost certain he locked the door behind him on the way in. You let your head bow, eyes fixed on the wood under your palms. "Maybe I do."

"Of course you do. You've never been subtle." His foot nudges yours further apart, his fingers trailing up your thigh, finding the damp ache between your legs. Your breath catches but you hold still, biting your tongue as he teases—digits gliding through your slit, swirling your clit. "I know you thought about it."

"About what?" You try, though the question barely gets out before his other hand smacks the thick of your ass again, harder this time. "Shit—"

"About what I'd do to you." The hand on your clit shifts to smooth over the sting, rubbing slow, while the other works the buckle of his belt. "Tell me what you wanted."

"I—" you pause, steadying, gathering yourself. You know you have to give him something, but it's hard to think when he's like this. "I—I wanted you to be...careless."

"Careless." He says it like he's savouring it, rolling it over his tongue like candy. It's not a word that suits him; you're not convinced he even knows how. "You want me to be rough—to be selfish. Like you were."

The moment his belt is loose you feel those slender fingers dip back into your slit, two of them pushing inside your cunt without warning, stretching you open as his trousers slip down his thighs— he grunts low, a sound that cuts into the quiet as his cock springs free and he presses it against you, unoccupied hand slipping back into your hair, pulling you up until you're flush with him.

"Yes." You're not sure who sounds more hollow for it—your voice for asking, his for granting it. "I want that. I deserve it. Please. Please—"

"Please. It's always please with you," he mocks, the words a hiss that burn your cheeks. "Yet, I don't get to be selfish like you, do I? I still have to show restraint."

"I mean—oh—fu—" you choke as his lips find your neck, muttering something against your skin before you feel the sudden cool slip of a lubing charm coating your asshole and cunt. "Tom-"

"Despite what you might believe, I've never had much in the way of patience," he breathes, a confession almost, something deeper—something that feels like it costs him. "Not when it comes to you."

"Tom—" you fucking gasp his name as he pulls his fingers from your cunt—only to drag them higher until they find your asshole. Despite his haste he's still at ease, massaging, pressing one finger against it until you let him in. He sinks slowly, curling slightly, and your thighs shake—lungs deflate. "Oh—oh, fuck, Tom—it's been—"

"A while, hasn't it?" He finishes, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, his finger sliding all the way in. "So tight for me. So—tight—"

"Tom—" a repetition of the last one, his name spilling from you like it’s the only goddamn word you know how to say. "Please, Tom. Oh god—"

"Shhh." He shushes, but it's not to quiet you; you know that. He's savouring this. He slips in a second finger, stretching you wider, working you open, and you're biting your lip to keep from crying out. "This isn't about you."

"You—" your voice breaks on another gasp, hands clutching at the desk. "—you think this is punishment."

"Partially." His muses as his fingers scissor, filling you with the most delicious ache. You're so slick, arousal running down your thighs, and that—oh no, that does not escape his notice. "Look at you, dripping for me. And yet,"

"Oh god." The realization crashes over you—it’s punishment as in orgasm denial. "That's—that's not—"

"Not fair?" There's a smirk in his voice, and though he doesn't say it, you hear the word that lingers beneath it: pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. He pulls his fingers out and you whine, feeling empty for half a second before the head of his cock glides against your slit, gathering your juices before finding its way up to the throbbing ring of muscle. "Isn't this what you wanted? For me to be selfish?"

"I just—" words scatter, useless, because you're trembling, breathing hard, and then he's pressing in, slow enough to save you pain but fevered enough to make you feel him. "Oh—oh—"

"Oh fuck." He says it breathless, as if it's an agony to fit himself inside of you. "Oh yes."

And it is an agony—for both of you, though for very different reasons. Tom is huge, and even on a good day, it's a struggle to take him. He's so deep, filling you in ways you'd forgot were possible. You struggle to hold yourself upright—legs visibly shaking, teeth gritting. He sinks all the way in, and in your mind, you can almost see the look on his face, the way his lashes flutter, the way his head tips back—

"Ah—“ he groans, a rough sound that's followed by a huff and a slight roll of his hips, like he's holding back, like he can't bring himself to move just yet. He yanks you up against him by your hair. "That's fucking tight, isn't it? This must be hell for you."

He's not wrong, it is. But it's hellish for Tom too, the type of hell the two of you inflict on eachother that is as fucking addicting as it is anything else—

"Just—" you manage to bite out breathlessly, but it's a struggle to make the words. "Move—"

"Make me," he grits, jerking your head to the side until your foreheads press together. "Convince me to use you. Tell me how badly you want it. How much of a whore you are for it."

Merlin help you, you moan at his words. It's that thing inside you—the needy, desperate part that's dying at his feet. You don't know what it is or why it's there; it just is, and it's greedy. It's not something you'd give into normally—your ego is far too big to give him the satisfaction of begging, not aloud—never in words that he could use against you later—but in these moments, you both learn to make exceptions.

"Dear god, Tom—please, just use me-" you push your hips back against him, one of his hands slide up your stomach, cupping your tits. "Please, l'm—I'm a pathetic, begging whore for you. God, I know you're pissed—I feel it—just take it out on me—l want it—"

He moans—a soft, almost gentle sound—and you know you've struck a nerve, the part of him that's equally as weak in the moment—the part of him that makes it all too easy for things to spiral like this.

"Goddamn you." Something inside him snaps, something that's been frayed, just waiting for a pull—and you've pulled it now, and oh you want, no, you need him to make you pay for it, to make it hurt. "You just—you always-"

He grunts, cutting himself off and in a way, it's almost like he's thanking you because you're giving him an outlet, something to take it out on. You test each other, push and pull and let the other break, because, at the end of the day, it always comes down to this. The two of you. Like this.

A sharp inhale, and he starts to thrust.

"Fuck!" it's all you manage, it's all you can manage, because it—just like that—feels the way you wanted it to feel but it also feels so much more intense, so intense that your brain can't keep up. "Oh god—oh fuck-"

"Fucking hell," he spits, like you're the worst thing in his world and the best thing all at once, and somehow, that makes perfect sense. He lets go of your hair, and you slump forward onto the desk, elbows barely holding you up as his hand smacks your ass, fingers spreading you apart. "So—so tight—“

You're a shuddering mess, helpless to it; all you can do is remember to breathe through it.

"That's it." Another smack to your ass, thrusts quick and deep. "Fuck. The things you drive me to do."

You know him so well—and he knows you just as damn well, and that's the point, isn't it? That's what this is all about. You're the perfect mix of wrong, a match that burns too hot it hurts but the ache makes him feel alive.

"I want to cum—" your neglected clit is begging for it, you’re fucking begging for it. "Tom please—"

At that, he laughs and it's mean and it's condescending and you love—God—how you love it and want it and can't get enough of it. His hips snap forward a little bit rougher and you lose a bit more of your sanity—

"You think you deserve to come, after what you did?" Another smack to your ass.

You don't know how to answer, and he doesn't wait for one anyway. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you—everything is so calculated and calculated and calculated. You've never once seen him falter, and you don't expect to see it now. You don't know if you'd survive it if you did.

"No." He answers for you. "You don't."

His fingers trace around your thigh, grazing your mound and finding your needy clit, your sopping slit, gliding through it—you moan louder than you should as he gathers your slick on his fingers, humming at what he finds there before retreating—bringing them up to your mouth.

"Open."

You open your mouth and he feeds you your need—the result of his selfishness. You love him for what he is and you love him for what he isn’t too. How he tries to be both, only when you ask.

"Taste that?" It's a whisper, something he's telling you.

You sob around his fingers as he fucks your ass deep—he pulls them out to let you respond. You nod. "Yes."

"Taste how much you want this?"

"Yes." A pathetic moan. The perfect response.

"Good girl." He presses the words into your hair, the back of your neck, along your spine. He sucks in a breath as he fucks like he needs it just to speak. "You're going to remember this the next time you think about doing something just to spite me, I hope you know that."

Of course you will. He knows it, you know it—there's no doubt in your mind that you'll remember this the next time you toy with his patience; the next time you give him a reason to discipline you again. And what's worse is: you'll do it anyway.

It's a battle you two will fight for eternity.

But you don't get a chance to respond, not that you'd have one anyways—because his hand is on your throat and his lips are at your ear and he's sucking in air through his teeth and then—

"I'm going to cum." He whispers and you hear the pain in it. "Fuck."

You shiver in reply; a whine of a whimper coming from the back of your throat. “Tom—“

"Shh." He shushes you with his free hand, gripping your jaw as his thrusts turn sloppy, erratic. "Fucking take it.”

God—you’ll take it. Of course you will. You asked for this, drove him to this point. You're both sick, but this is the kind that doesn't have a cure.

One of his hands moves to his own hair, tugging at the back of his head; it's the only hint you've had this whole time of how much he's affected by this, how much it's driven him mad. He's doing his best to keep control, to maintain composure and make sure you feel it—but it's the way his hand squeezes your hip when he lets go of your throat that gives him away.

It gives in to what he's been repressing.

"Ohhh—fuck—yes—" and then you feel it, feel him, hot and sticky and warm, filling your ass and holding you there until he’s finished. His body collapses against the back of yours, hips slow rolling until he's drained—until you’ve taken all of him, all of his anger and frustration and restraint along with it. He’s sweaty, exhausted, spent—forehead pressed to your hair. "You feel that?"

"You know I do." You're not allowed to sound so smug, not while you're in the position you're in, but you are. It’s why he loves you. "That's what you were looking for."

"No, that's what you were looking for." He nips your ear, and you hear the smile in his voice when he bites down on it and murmurs a, "and that's why you're my favourite," into it.

"And you mine, Tommy."

[astridthevalkyrie]

cw: afab reader + she/her pronouns, creepy stuff, yandere ig??, very very very brief and extremely mild use of phone as a vibrator, if you've seen gravity falls this is inspired by the soos and the real girl ep 💀

You pause and exit out of the app right as you open up the video call link, ignoring the twinge of guilt you feel at leaving during such a steamy scene. It's not real, you remind yourself, like you have a million times in the past month. A part of you wants to find the coziest corner of this library and play until you've leveled up all the memories you can and gone on all nine claw machine dates you're allowed to, but it's time to unplug.

Besides, you have an actual date.

"Hey!" your boyfriend greets as soon as the video loads up, grinning when he sees your face. "Are you in the library?"

"Yeah. Booked a room all for you," you tease, setting your phone down to focus on your laptop.

"Wow, I'm flattered. So what's been up lately?"

You sigh. "Nothing much. Same old boring stuff. What about you?"

He starts talking about his new job, the entire reason that you and he have been long-distance for the past few months. You're not going to lie to yourself—it's rough. It feels like torture, not being able to see him and hold him and kiss him. You've really, really missed him. That's probably why you've turned to dating sims of all things in the first place.

Your phone buzzes while he's talking, and your eyes flick over to the screen.

new text from alien boy <3

Your brows furrow in confusion. This app doesn't notify you about new texts, because they only come through while you're on the app itself. And you never just get texts, unless you've leveled up on affinity, which you haven't in the past half hour.

Whatever. Probably some new feature or event you don't know about yet. You turn your attention back to your boyfriend.

"—And my break will be in two weeks," he finishes his story, then smiles. "Which means in two weeks I'll be seeing you, pretty girl."

Eyes lighting up, you lean in so you can blow him a light kiss. "I can't wait. I already have the whole weekend planned out. We'll go to the park, the museum—I thought we could go canoeing if you wanted to—"

Once again, your phone buzzes.

alien boy <3: didn't we have plans that weekend?

Your stomach flips unpleasantly.

Huh?

"What is it?" your boyfriend asks, noticing your struck expression.

"N-nothing, just—this app I downloaded, it gave me a super weird notification. For a second, I thought it was, like, listening to me."

He chuckles. "Creepy. What app is it?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, not sure if you should even tell your boyfriend that you've found solace in fictional characters during his absence. "Just some stupid game."

This time when your phone buzzes, you jump a little in your seat.

It's not a text. Someone's calling you. Your shoulders almost sag until you notice there's no name on the caller id, just a small spaceship emoji.

"What the hell," you mutter under your breath, putting one finger up to the camera. Your boyfriend nods in understanding, leaning back and muting himself while you swipe and answer the call. "Hello?"

No answer.

"Hello-o-o?"

Still nothing. You almost hang up, until the barest of sounds makes your ears perk up. If you strain them and press the phone so close it's smushing your cheek, you can hear something. It sounds like someone whispering, but you can't make out anything.

"Hello? Um, your audio is super low, I can barely hear you. Hello? Can you hear me?"

With no change, you hang up, frustrated. It might be a prank call. You're in the library on a Friday night and there's barely anyone here, one of your friends might've thought it was hilarious to mess with you.

"Spam call." You shrug uneasily, slipping the phone down between your thighs this time instead of on the table. He nods in understanding, then starts saying something.

"You're still on mute, sweetheart, I can't hear you."

He makes an oh face, then leans forward a bit to use the mouse. After a few seconds, though, his eyes narrow in focus and he shakes his head. He looks up, mouthing can you hear me now?

"Nope. Can you still hear me?"

An affirmative nod. Weird. It's still showing that he's muted on your end. "What, is it not clicking?"

You see him look back up to the screen, whether to nod or shake his head, you don't find out, because the screen glitches out for a moment, and all you see is a door.

You shriek, clamping a hand over your mouth.

His face is back in front of you again, and you still can't hear him, but he clearly sees how freaked out you are, because he tilts his head up concernedly, as though to ask you what's wrong.

You didn't scream because of the glitch.

You screamed because you've visited your boyfriend at his new place before, and that door was his door.

"Can you hear me? Is your door locked?" He only looks more confused, shaking his head like you're the one who's muted now.

Your phone lights up before you can grab it and call him, and you gasp when it buzzes against your core and doesn't stop buzzing. It doesn't vibrate this much when you get a call, and there is no call on the home screen, nor text, nor any kind of notification. It feels like it presses itself into your skin more, and you grip the table with one hand at the brief jolt of pleasure before snatching it and unlocking the screen.

Before you can click the phone app, Love&Deepspace opens. You groan in frustration, trying to swipe up to no avail. Did you accidentally click on it? It wasn't even in the list of apps on your main page.

Movement from your laptop catches your eye. Your boyfriend's looking forward, but not at the camera. He's looking at—at something, and he backs up in his chair, looking terrified all of a sudden.

"What is it?" you say as loud as you can, but even if he does hear you, he doesn't respond, and instead, his mouth falls open in a silent scream.

The screen goes black, and then so does the entire library.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit." You look back down at your phone, ready to crack it if it doesn't swipe up and get out of this stupid app—

There's no one there.

Your heart stutters in its chest.

There's always someone in the Destiny Cafe.

There's no one there.

And on the little white armchair in the background, there's a dark streak of red dripping down and staining the cloth.

"What the fuck," you whisper, eyes wide. Your laptop screen flickers.

The facetime has been replaced by grey-blonde hair, that gently brushes against baby blue eyes with a soft, unassuming smile.

"You shouldn't pause me," he coos, "now, where were we?"

a/n: i hope no one tells me that people don't put their phones between their thighs while sitting bc i very much do. also. i'm talking to a guy on FT in the library tomorrow. hope i don't have gift of foresight. or maybe i hope i do muwahahaha. this is actually mad goofy and not scary at all

[romione-trope-fest]

Hufflepuff Tea (Search)Party

Fic Title: Hufflepuff Tea (Search)Party

Author Name: CowahBull

Selected Trope: OotP Missing Moment

Brief Summary: Hufflepuffs are great advice-givers. They’re the best argument mediators. Find a Hufflepuff if you need to be told the brutally honest truth. A Hufflepuff will never purposely steer you wrong. Hufflepuffs are also excellent gossip-finders. It’s a well-known fact around Hogwarts that if you ever need to know what’s going on in the school, you find a Hufflepuff. This particular group of Hufflepuffs has their eyes set on the story around a certain pair of Gryffindor Prefects.

Word Count: 2859 Rating: G Trigger Warnings: None

_____________

Attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible, Hannah and Susan exited the Room of Requirements to make their way back to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Hannah ensured that her prefect badge was securely attached as they passed a small group of third-year Slytherins in the second-floor corridor. She watched them turn onto the staircase leading to the Great Hall.

“Did you see me hit Zacharias with that Stunner?” Susan was chatting happily as they passed the portrait of the bowl of fruit, which hid the entrance to the kitchen. “He didn’t even have a chance to Shield.” Susan gave a triumphant whoop, and Hannah hushed her while giggling herself.

“Ernie got me a couple times tonight,” Hannah admitted as they approached the entrance to the Common Room. “I’m going to need to practice my Shield Charm before the next meeting. Do you want to practice with me after we finish Snape’s Potions essay?”

“I have Flitwik’s essay after I’m finished with Potions,” said Susan, giving the second barrel to the right a hard knock, revealing the entrance to the nearly empty Hufflepuff Common Room. “We’ll have work on it later in the week.”

“Damn,” Hannah said, disappointed. “Yeah, we can do that.”

They found seats around the table in the corner and prepared to begin working on Snape’s Shrinking Solutions assignment; they were joined shortly after by Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan.

“Guess who I just caught snogging behind that tapestry of the unicorn hunt,” whispered Ernie, relishing in the chance to share the latest gossip.

“Peeves and Sir Cadogen?” Susan teased, trying and failing to keep her focus on the schoolwork in front of her.

“Ginny Weasley and Michael Corner.” Ernie took his seat to Susan’s left and began pulling Snape’s essay from his bag. “Third couple I’ve caught back there this month.”

“People need to find another place to snog,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes. “I found Ancrum and Hurst back there yesterday.”

“Amatures,” scoffed Justin, “everyone knows about that spot. You’re guaranteed to be caught back there. Surprised Filch hasn’t permanently posted himself there overnight.”

Susan shared a mischievous look with Ernie before returning her attention to her parchment; she still needed to add another four inches on the importance of the full moon on ingredient harvesting.

Scratching quills and the rustle of papers filled the room, interrupted only by questions asked of neighbors and the occasional curses on Snape’s name.

“So, when did Weasley and Granger start dating?” mused Ernie as he flicked through the pages of his textbook.

"Wait!” Susan exclaimed, throwing down her quill, suddenly extremely invested in Ernie’s latest news. “I didn’t know they’re actually dating. Have you been withholding information from us?”

“Haven’t you seen them in the last few DA meetings?” continued Ernie. “They never stopped flirting that entire time.”

“I don’t think they even know they’re flirting,” Hannah argued.

“They were joking around a lot between their Stunning Spells,” Justin said disinterestedly. “I don’t think that means they’re dating, though.”

“I think Neville would have mentioned it if Ron and Hermione were together,” Hannah said, not looking up as she opened her copy of The Standard Book of Spells: Volume Five. “He shares a dorm with Ron, after all.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know,” argued Ernie.

“I really don’t think that’s enough evidence to prove that they’re together,” sighed Susan, returning her attention to the book in front of her.

“We can ask Longbottom tomorrow,” suggested Justin. “We have Herbology with Gryffindor in the afternoon. Hannah partners up with him whenever possible.” He gave Hannah a playful wink that she responded to with a rude gesture, her cheeks turning pink. Susan rolled her eyes and picked up her quill and a fresh piece of parchment. She had far too much homework tonight to debate the rumored love life between the two Gryffindor Prefects.

—

Greenhouse Six housed the tropical plants, making it the hottest classroom in the school. Susan and Hannah had already shed their outer robes and had pulled their hair into high buns on top of their heads when Professor Sprout charged the class to break into groups of three to take on the task of repotting Solanum melongena. Hannah was quick to claim Neville Longbottom as her and Susan’s partner.

Tucking into a station, Susan began prepping the new pot while Neville and Hannah set off on the task of calming the plant so it would allow them to uproot it without stinging them in the process. Susan eyed Weasley and Granger across the greenhouse as they began complimenting and stroking the plant sitting in front of them on the other end of the long work bench, with Potter to the left of them prepping a transfer pot.

"Wow, you have such beautiful leaves,” cooed Neville as he stroked the plumage. “Come on, dear, let’s have a look at those roots.” He gently lifted the leaves of their plant and extracted a small handful of dirt. The melongena twitched menacingly at his touch.

“Wonderful job,” Hannah said, reaching in to take a handful of dirt for herself. “So, Neville, we’ve been meaning to ask you about something.” She began to back away as a branch jerked at her.

“Now, now there’s no reason to be like that,” Neville scolded. “Hannah is just trying to help.” He didn’t take his eyes off the flower to which he was tending while addressing the girls, “What do you need to ask me?”

Susan leaned in close to him. “So what’s going on with them?” she gestured her head towards Weasley and Granger across the greenhouse, who were chatting happily with Potter.

Neville furrowed his brow. “Dean and Seamus?” he asked, barely lifting his eyes from the plant. “I’ve been wondering about them too…”

Susan stifled a laugh. “We all have.”

“Come on,” sighed Hannah, pulling a root from the pot. “You know exactly who we’re talking about.”

“Granger and Weasley,” Susan whispered. “When did they start dating?”

“I don’t think Hermione likes him like that,” Neville said, looking at them with mischief in his eyes. “Besides, isn’t Charlie a little old for her anyway?”

“Stop taking the piss, Longbottom,” added Susan, crossing her arms and glaring at Neville.

“Sorry, Susan.” Neville shrugged and returned his attention to the Solanum melongena, dodging to avoid being hit by one of its swinging vines. “I have no intelligence for you.”

–

That evening, Ernie was patrolling the west side of the castle, being sure to check behind every alcove and tapestry he passed. When he turned the corner to the third-floor staircase, he spotted a pair of Ravenclaws. Just who he was hoping to see.

“Michael, wait up,” he called, going up the stairs toward Michael Corner and Terry Boot.

The boys stopped as soon as Ernie reached them. “What’s up?” Michael asked.

“You’re still dating Ginny Weasley, right?”

Michael’s eyebrow cocked. “What’s it matter to you?“

“What’s the deal with her brother and Hermione Granger?”

“It’s not like we spend our time together talking about her brother’s love life.”

“So,” Ernie prodded further, “Ginny hasn’t said anything about their flirting during…” he looked over his shoulder. “–Er practice?”

“I’m not there to watch everyone else’s business,” Michael snapped. “I’m there to learn,” he added in a lowered voice.

“It did seem like Granger did hold his hand for a little longer than necessary when helping him up,” interjected Terry. “That’s hardly worth a fuss.”

“You could ask Lavender or Parvati,” shrugged Michael. “Do you think Hermione would have said anything to them?”

“I doubt it,” moaned Terry, appearing to be almost as interested in the rumors as Ernie. “Hermione doesn’t exactly seem like the ‘braiding each other’s hair and chatting’ type.”

Ernie considered their suggestions. “Hannah asked them before. No luck.” He turned to Michael. “His sister-”

“Yeah, I’ll ask Ginny what she knows.” He looked over Ernie’s shoulder suddenly and hitched his bag up his shoulder as Draco Malfoy and his usual posse came around the corner. “Better get out of here before he starts making trouble,” he added in a low tone.

They turned and walked away from each other before Malfoy could reach them. “No unauthorized meetings are allowed, Macmillan,” he sneered. “Ten points from Hufflepuff.”

Ernie scowled at the Slytherin gang and continued down the stairs. Making rude hand gestures when he was out of sight.

At the entrance to the Great Hall, Ernie found Hannah and Susan skipping toward him from the direction of the library, mischief in their eyes.

“Do you have any idea why Amanda Comstock would be in an empty classroom with Dexter Woodworth after curfew?”

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

–

Justin jogged past a group of third-year Ravenclaw students waiting outside the Arithmancy classroom.

“Sally-Anne, wait up!” Just who he wanted to see. As he caught up to her, he leaned to whisper, “What’s this I’m hearing about Comstock and Woodworth?” He matched pace with her as they made their way to double transfiguration.

“What is it that you’re hearing?”

“Something about the Prefects’ bathroom…”

”No, that was Cedric and Cho last year.”

“Oh right,” Justin waved for her to go on. “A classroom?”

“Yes, a classroom.” Sally-Anne nodded. “I heard that Miss Maisy Blackmon was out on patrol when she heard rustling in Binn’s classroom.”

“NO!” Justin’s shout startled a pair of first-year Gryffindors walking past. “Old Binnsey’s room? I wouldn’t consider that the most romantic place.”

“He’s got a thing for troll riots, I guess,” Sally-Anne shrugged. “Anyway,” she continued, ”Maisy goes into the room expecting to find Peeves-”

“Were they making that much of a ruckus?”

Sally-Anne only looked at him before continuing. “She goes in and sees the two of them all tangled up against the professor’s desk.”

“Here, I thought she liked girls.”

“She likes hot people,” Sally-Anne shrugged. “Hey, what’s the news on Ron and Hermione?”

“The rumor mill is all over the place.”

“You think Granger is still seeing Victor Krum?”

“She’d be crazy not to.” Justin jumped to tap his hands against a discolored brick above his head. “He is internationally famous, after all.”

“But we have no solid evidence?”

“I’m convinced they’re dating.”

“Granger and Weasley?” He had her full attention now. Justin had to pull her robe sleeve to help her avoid walking right through a passing ghost. “You have evidence to back up that claim?”

“Ron and Hermione have been seen in each other’s company more than Potter’s for the last few weeks.”

“They were doing an awful lot of laughing during dinner yesterday,” Sally-Anne added.

“The flirting really is getting out of hand.”

“That’s couple behavior, if I’ve ever seen it,” said Sally-Anne, shaking her head and smiling. “I wonder when it happened.“

“I’ll let you know when I find out,” sighed Justin as they reached McGonagall’s classroom door. “Troll riots, you say?”

–

Professor Binns droned on in front of them as Ernie spent his time scribbling on a scrap piece of parchment.

Don’t look now. What’s Weasley doing?

Hannah stretched in her seat, stealing a peek behind her. The Gryffindors were seated at the bench a few yards away. Hermione sat scribbling furiously in her notes, giving Binns her undivided attention. Harry was asleep with his face in his hands and his glasses propped on top of his head. Ron had his eyes closed and his head resting–

Oh Merlin! How long has he been resting on her shoulder?

A WHILE!

Does she even notice?

She was looking at him with total heart-eyes earlier.

Ernie drew a stick person with giant hearts for eyes and big curls coming from her head.

Hannah nudged her elbow into Susan’s side, jolting her out of the sleepy trance into which she was slipping. At her confused look, she passed the parchment in front of her and signaled for Justin’s attention as well. They both sat and read the note intently before they both found themselves with sudden cricks in their necks that simply needed to be stretched out immediately.

Susan gasped but covered it up with a cough. Justin stole the paper and his quill.

So they are dating!! We need to figure out when

A head on her shoulder does not equal dating. I do that to Hannah all the time.

Ernie craned his head to read the note sitting between Hannah and Susan. He shot them a look that meant one thing: ‘You’ve got to be kidding me’. Taking the paper, he scrawled.

You didn’t see the heart-eyes. If they’re not dating now, they will by the end of term. I guarantee it!!

He tossed the paper back to the group with a look of pride. The bell rang, rousing everyone in class from their stupor. Ernie watched as Ron jolted up from Hermione’s arm, both blushing and refusing to look at each other.

–

Prefect patrol duties were really cutting into their study schedule. Hannah complained to Ernie about their course load as they aimlessly roamed the halls for the last hour before curfew.

“She’s a sadist,” she cried. “Who assigns a four-foot assignment on Shield Charms without including class practice time?”

“Maybe Harry will be able to go over it with us again on Monday.” Ernie pulled his magic coin from his pocket to confirm the date. “I need to get Justin back for that Stunner he sent to my face.”

“I’m going to ask Hermione if I can look at her notes for Arithmancy. Mine just don’t feel complete enough. And you know how strict Professor Vector can be about thoroughness. I don’t know how I’m going to finish those problems for her by class tomorrow.”

Hannah talked non-stop for three floors while Ernie halfheartedly looked inside every classroom they passed.

“Shh,” he said to Hannah before calling into the long, unused classroom. “It’s almost curfew; you better get back to your Common Room.”

A mop of red hair appeared from behind the teacher’s desk, pulling up a very embarrassed-looking girl.

“Weasley, please,” Ernie started. “I’m much too tired to deal with this tonight.”

“Not a problem at all,, my friend,” laughed Fred (or was it George?) as he reached into his pocket and pulled out two small packages. “How about we part ways here and pretend it never happened?”

He put the bags of Weasley Wizard Wheezes products into Ernie and Hannah’s hands before pulling an apologizing Angelina Johnson down the hall toward the Gryffindor Common Room.

“No detours!” Hannah called after them, but they were already gone.

“That has got to stop happening,” said Hannah as she pocketed her bribe. “I’m going to be able to start my own joke shop with everything hiding in my trunk.”

“We could just report them.” Ernie shrugged. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Continuing their patrol, they peered into classrooms and behind statues periodically but found nothing but cobwebs and dust.

“We should head back to the Common Room,” Hannah yawned. “Double Potions with Slytherin first thing tomorrow.”

Ernie yawned his agreement and opened the door for the second-floor corridor. Before she could get through the door behind him, he froze. At the bottom of the stairs were Ron and Hermione, on their own patrol. Hermione was laughing animatedly at the impression Ron was making of Umbridge, their fingers interlocked.

Hannah shut the door, and the two leaped an arm’s length apart, realizing they were not alone. “Good evening, Ernie. Evening Hannah,“ Hermione said nervously, her cheeks pink. Ron nodded but refused to make eye contact with either of them.

"Hello, Hermione,” Hannah said, her voice a little too polite. “Good evening, Ron.”

“Evening,” Ron said as he and Hermione began ascending the stairs.

Ernie seemed to have found his legs again and continued to descend, passing them in the middle. Hannah followed close behind, her mind buzzing but her face remaining as neutral as possible.

As both parties met on the staircase, Ron cleared his throat and spoke in a low tone. “Er Harry hasn’t sent the notice yet, but -er- it moved to Thursday after dinner.”

“Right,” Ernie said, nodding. “Thanks.” He gave a weak thumbs up before he and Hannah passed through the space the Gryffindor students had created between each other.

The moment they were around the corner and out of earshot, Hannah turned to Ernie, her eyes alight. ‘Oh my god’ they mouthed to each other before hurrying toward the ground floor.

Ernie scratched his knuckle from pounding on the barrel blocking the Hufflepuff Common Room, but he gave it no notice as he and Hannah went running up to the table where Susan and Justin sat, absorbed in their homework.

“Oh my gods, you will never guess who we just saw!”

[wannab-urs]

You Have Me In a Chokehold | Mr. Ben (SNL) x teacher!reader | 18+

Summary: You’re a teacher at Mr. Ben’s school and you’re sitting in the “No More Fancams” assembly freaking out because he just showed your fancam on screen… Do you think he knows it was you? (AU where he’s not in love with Ms. Jenny, the assembly just ends with him being like “please don’t do this anymore, thanks”)

WC: 2.4k

Warnings: MDNI | 18+ | SMUT | no ages implied (all legal obvi), hair pulling, sir kink, very mild degrading language, fingering, unprotected PiV (don’t be silly, wrap your willy) (also y’all are teachers, you should know better), rough-ish sex but no one gets hurt, Mr. Ben is girthy (Big Ben ;) ), brief mention of the picture of dorian gray, which deserves its own warning if you’ve ever tried to teach that book to teenagers, extreme cringe in the first half. Gets weirdly fluffy at the end so if that kills your vibe just stop reading after the uhhhh climax of the story (if you catch my drift). Sorry we support aftercare in this house. I think that’s it, love y’all, enjoy! 

It’s 8 in the morning, supposed to be first period, and the principal has called for some technology assembly. You’re unlucky enough to have first period planning, you have essays to grade, and you won’t have a spare minute for the rest of the day. But sure, let’s all go sit in the gym so the boomers can lecture the zoomers about technology use. This is a great use of everyone’s time. 

You slip into the auditorium with 5 minutes to spare, hoping to go unnoticed in the back row. You’re just about to subtly put in your airpods and watch TikToks like 90% of the students, when you hear the principal introduce Mr. Ben. This assembly suddenly became worth paying attention to. 

Ben is by far the prettiest thing to look at in this school. He’s ridiculously broad chested, always wearing these just-shy-of-too-tight button ups that he pairs with definitely-a-little-too-tight pants, accentuating his cute butt. He has toned forearms, usually peeking out of rolled up sleeves, and huge hands that he waves around in the air or clasps in front of him when he speaks. And then, despite being this big, broad, powerful looking man, he has the sweetest face. 

His eyes are soft brown, hooded and turned down a little, so he’s basically making puppy dog eyes constantly. His nose is prominent and curved and sitting above the most adorably pouty lips. His facial hair is sparse and a little patchy, but honestly it just makes him even more charming. God, you have it so bad for this man. 

Your internal drooling over Ben is interrupted by the sound of a freshman at the front of the room yelling, “Come on guuurrrrl, eat it up!” Your eyes flick to the screen beside Ben. There are two very vague tech rules followed by… Shit. 

“Do not make fancams of school staff, such as this,” says Ben, gesturing at the screen. And your stomach does a somersalt. Shit! There’s a TikTok playing on the screen, and though you can’t quite make out the username, you definitely recognize the video. That’s your fancam. And Ben looks… mortified. He looks extremely uncomfortable. 

“You have made thousands of fancams of me and i’m not sure what they mean, but I know it has to stop,” he pleads. And fuck is he looking at you? He can’t know can he? There’s absolutely no way he knows. He’s just looking out toward the back of the auditorium. Yeah. You wouldn’t want to make eye contact with a bunch of 14 years olds while pictures of you flash on the screen either. That makes perfect sense. 

“We make them because you’re our beloved and you have us a in a chokehold,” screams another student toward the front. You wish he would put you in a chokehold. GOD what is wrong with you. Pull yourself together.

“Okay, don’t say that,” Ben says, wringing his hands together in front of him. You can see that he’s clearly uncomfortable. You should delete your account. Ban him from your thoughts. You’ve crossed the line big time.

“I just don’t understand. Why do you make sparkly fast romantic montages of me every single day?” he asks. Another fancam, thankfully not yours, begins playing on the screen. You have to get out of here. 

You stand up and try to sneak out as inconspicuously as possible, whispering “Bathroom,” in response to a disapproving look from another, older teacher. 

You break into a run as soon as you get into the hall and only slow down when you’re safely locked in the handicap stall of the teacher bathroom. You slide down the wall to the floor and press your face into your hands. You are so stupid. Of course making fancams of school staff is a bad idea. It’s bad when the kids do it… and really weird because they’re kids… but when another teacher does it? He could have you fired for this. 

But he doesn’t know. There’s no way he knows. 

You manage to make it through the rest of the day, somehow facing your classes and teaching them about nouns and reading a bit more of The Picture of Dorian Gray aloud. 

It’s finally the end of the day, but you still have those essays to grade, so you decide to set a timer for one hour and power through as many as you can. The school is so weirdly silent this long after final bell. The custodians won’t be in for another couple hours and pretty much every teacher and student has long gone home. 

You finish packing your tote bag and start shrugging on your coat when you hear a knock at the door. “Come in!” 

You freeze when the door opens. Shit.

“Ben! Hi! How can I help you? I was just leaving, but-” the sharp sound of the door slamming shut cuts off your nervous rambling. Ben stands with his hands behind his back, puffing his very broad chest out. 

“I was wondering if you could tell me something, sweetheart.” His voice is low, gravelly, and you feel like you’re being raked over hot coals. He knows. 

“Um. Sure?” you squeak out. Your face is on fire and you have no idea what to do with your hands. He takes a step toward you, looking for all the world like a predator stalking it’s pray. His eyes are dark, brow lowered, lips set in a hard line. He looks nothing like the shy, uncomfortable man from the assembly. 

Your bag drops to the floor and you take a stuttering step back toward your desk. 

“What’s your TikTok username?” he asks slowly, taking another step toward you. 

You gulp and fall back another step, thighs pressing against your desk now. Your shake your head and glue your eyes to the floor. 

“Don’t make me ask again.” And oh god he’s right in front of you now. He hooks a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his. His pupils are blown so wide, you can barely see his usually warm brown irises. Wait is he turned on right now? 

“It’s- uh… I don’t have one!” you stammer out. You try to look away, but his fingers hold your chin in place. He leans a bit closer, his breath ghosting over your face, and presses his other palm into the desk beside you. He tsks and presses his thumb to your bottom lip.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growls out, and oh that went straight to your core. You squirm in his hold and that’s when you truly realize how close he is. His body is nearly pressed against yours. 

“It’s- it’s… fuck. It’s MrBensLittleSlut…” you stammer out. You feel like you’re on fire, ashamed of your actions, but also incredibly fucking turned on. The object of your not-so-innocent crush has you pressed against your desk like some school girl fantasy. 

“And do you really want to be my little slut, sweetheart?” Holy. Shit. Did he really just ask you that? Your heart actually stops beating in your chest for a second. You nod. 

“Aloud, please.” 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. 

He brings one hand to the back of your head and wraps your hair around his fingers, pulling your head back slightly. You whimper and he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. 

“Good girl,” he purrs. And you think you’ll melt into puddle on the spot. His hands slide to your hips and he lifts you up onto the edge of the desk. You instinctively part your legs and he presses himself flush against you. He keeps one hand on your waist to steady you and slides the other back up into your hair and suddenly his lips are on yours. 

It’s sloppy and open mouthed and greedy. He licks into your mouth, curling his tongue around yours. Your hands find purchase around his biceps and you hold on for dear life. His fist tightens in your hair and you moan wantonly, throwing your head back and pushing your hips up into his, chasing friction. 

His lips trail down your jaw and he nips at your earlobe before sucking a kiss to the spot where your jaw meets your throat. You dig your nails into his muscular arms and choke on a gasp. 

“Please,” you whine, shifting your hips against him again.

“Please what, sweetheart?” you can feel him smirking into the skin of your throat. He loves how riled up you are. Loves watching you try and fail to grind yourself on him. 

“Please- please touch me, sir,” he rolls his hips into yours, finally giving you something. Anything to ease the burning desire between your legs.

“You’re so pretty when you beg,” he growls in your ear. Then you feel his right hand leave your waist and pull up your skirt. He drags his fingertips up the inside of your left thigh, featherlight. Finally, he hooks two fingers into the soaked crotch of your panties and drags his knuckles across your clit. 

You suck in a gasp and a little “Oh” falls from your lips. He pulls back, keeping his left hand in your hair and watches as he slowly sinks two fingers into your cunt, down to the knuckle. Your hands ball up into fists, twisting the sleeves of his shirt and you let out a long, breathy moan. 

“You’re so wet for me already, sweetheart. Really are a little slut, aren’t you?” Your pussy clenches around his thick fingers at his words.

“Yes! Yes, I’m your little slut!” you gasp out.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, hooking them just right so that he hits the spongy spot inside you every time. You’re holding onto his shirt so tight you think you might rip the sleeves off. You can hear how wet you are, the sound echoing off the cinderblock walls. You start moving your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers inside you, chasing your orgasm. 

“I’m-- I’m gonna--” you clench hard around his fingers, so close to tipping over the edge.

And then his touch is gone. He’s pulled his fingers out of you and let go of you completely, taking a step back. You let out an actual scream of frustration. “No!” you shout, slumping back until your head hits your desk. You actually pout at him.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Want you to come on my cock.” His voice is so low, you almost can’t hear him over the sound of your heaving breaths. “Sit up, pretty girl.”

You push yourself back up and take in his appearance. Other than his rumpled shirt, he looks completely unbothered. His hair is still effortlessly tousled, his face is set into a teasing smirk. The fucker didn’t even break a sweat and you’re gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Pretty girl. He called you pretty.

“Bend over the desk, sweetheart.” 

You scramble to obey his request, standing up and bending over, pushing your ass into the air. You press your forehead into the desk and try to calm your fluttering heart rate. 

Suddenly… finally… you feel his hands on you. He grabs your skirt and bunches it up around your waist. His fingertips slide into the waistband of your panties and he pushes them down, letting them settle around your ankles. You hear the clink of a belt buckle, the tug of a zipper, and then you feel him. 

He slides his cock between your clenched thighs, through the wet folds of your pussy and oh god. You can’t see him, but you can feel that he’s thick. The head of his cock presses against your clit and you moan. 

“Such a pretty little pussy… I’m going to ruin it.” You gasp, but before you can respond, he’s moving. In one fluid motion, he pulls back, kicks your feet apart, and pushes all the way into you. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan out. You might pass out from pleasure. His cock is thick, filling you up and stretching you out more than you ever have been before. He holds still inside you while you clench and unclench around his girth, trying to get used to it. “So big.” you gasp into the desk. 

“I know, baby.” And then he moves, pulling all the way out to the tip and thrusting hard, all the way back in. The force of his hips smacking against your ass jolts you into the desk, making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain and sprawl forward on the desk. 

Ben grabs your shoulder with one hand, tightens his grip on your hip with the other, and resumes fucking into you at an absolutely brutal pace. 

Some part of you is scared you’ll get caught, but that part is overpowered by the euphoria you feel. You’re moaning and babbling incoherently as his cock hits that sweet spot deep inside you and grinds into it with every thrust. 

“Is my. Little. Slut. Gonna. Come. on my. Cock?” Ben grits out between thrusts. 

You cry out a garbled response. Your cunt is fluttering around his thick length and your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and there’s no way you can form words right now. 

Ben wraps his arm around your chest and pulls you back against him. His cock hits something deep inside you and you come with an agonizing cry, gushing around his cock and soaking him to the base. 

Your whole body goes limp with the force of your orgasm, but he holds you up and continues fucking up into you. After a few more thrusts, he pulls out and covers your ass and thighs in his release, letting out a low groan as the thick ropes hit your skin. 

You’re lying on the desk on your stomach, naked ass still in the air. It’s a ridiculous position to lay in, but you’re still riding the high of your orgasm and too blissed out to care. You jolt as you feel silk move across your over-sensitive skin. 

“What’re you doing?” You’re so drunk on his cock, it comes out slurred.

“Cleaning you up, sweetheart,” Ben says. Is he- he’s cleaning you up with his tie. Fuck that’s hot. And sweet? 

“Thank you…” you sigh into the desk. He pulls your panties back up for you and settles your skirt back down around your legs.

“Can you sit up for me, baby?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to your feet, nestling your head into the curve of his shoulder.

It’s not fair for him to fuck you that good and go right to being the sweet, bashful man you thought you knew. 

He brushes your hair out of your face and presses a soft, almost tender, kiss to your nose. You giggle and the sound makes him break out into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his dimple peeking out behind a 5 o’clock shadow. 

“Come on, sweetheart, I’ll walk you to your car.” 

He grabs your coat and your tote bag, slips his hand into yours, and leads you out to the parking lot.

a/n: I’m so sorry. This is ridiculous and I apologize for the no plot snl character porn fic. 

Tags: @beskarandblasters @meveispunk

[oofurixmas]

Sharing a hobby

To: Omer    From: Nyuuuuuko

Summary: “Photos?” Abe quirked his head in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

(Hi! I was your Oofuri Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy it! –Nyuuuuuko on AO3)

“Photos?” Abe quirked his head in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“Y-Yeah…I’ve kind of always had a hobby of it…b-but don’t worry, Abe! It doesn’t get in the way of practicing!”

“You’d better not be spending every minute practicing regardless, I think you know how I feel about you overworking your arm.”

After a quick squeak, Mihashi backpedaled. “Y-Yeah! I like t-taking photos!”

“And you’re taking them at your cousin’s wedding?”

“Y-Yeah…I wanted to give her some sort of gift but I don’t really have any money…”

“Huh…” Abe grunted in interest, “are they any good?”

“Um-!” Mihashi fidgeted. What now?! He loved his photos, but he didn’t want to sound arrogant! “W-Well-! H-how about-! I…just…show…you…?”

“Sure.” Came the quick reply. A brief moment passed before he spoke up again. “Well? Go get it if you wanna show me.” 

Another tiny squeak before Mihashi jumped up and ran upstairs, reemerging a few seconds later with a worn camera bag. The camera he pulled out was a bit on the older side, but it was nice. Definitely capable of taking some pretty decent pictures. It was no flip-phone camera, that was for sure. After watching him fumble with the switch on the top and turn it on, he clicked a few buttons and started flicking through them. “T-These haven’t been edited yet, so they’re moreso half-done…” He mumbled, handing Abe the camera.

“You edit your photos?” He asked, taking the camera from calloused, boney hands into softer, larger ones. 

“Sometimes…I only really play with color and exposure, mostly…”

The photos themselves were beautiful, even without any editing. He could tell some had been taken around Nishiura’s campus, turning sights he’d see every day into a portrait that almost made him want to go back just to see if he could find it as beautiful as Mihashi had made it.

“How do you take these pictures?” He found himself asking. 

“Well…” Mihashi switched back to photo taking mode on the camera and looked around for something to take a picture of. “I guess we can just use these books as an example…” He gestured to the pile of untouched books that Hanai had mentioned during their study session at his house. A gentle layer of dust covered them, reflecting the gentle light of the window whenever agitated. 

“The lighting in this shot isn’t too bad, but maybe I could make it better real quick…” Mihashi’s eyes glazed over in focus. Abe was a bit shocked. It was really similar to the look Tajima gave when he was doing something baseball related. Suddenly very serious and very confident. The shorter moved a small desk lamp around, trying a few angles and deciding on placing it to the side of the pile. 

“Alright, now for the camera settings. I want a low f-stop so that can work to my advantage–”

“Hold on, what’s an F-stop?”

“...and then the ISO can be set pretty low, though I do want a bit of a higher shutter speed, so I guess I’ll have to–”

“Mihashi!”

Finally, the pitcher squeaked and flinched out of his extremely focused mindset. “Y-Yes, Abe-!”

“I was asking you a question! I don’t know what any of that means!”

“Um…f-stop is…t-the amount of light let in through t-the lens…” 

Abe sat through Mihashi quietly explaining the different functions of the camera as the dirty blonde started resetting them all. Eventually, he kneeled in front of the desk. “Alright…” He waved his hand a bit so some of the dust would kick up and Abe heard the lens snap. He watched Mihashi sit up and start examining the picture he took. “...Well, it’s not perfect, but something like that.” 

“How did you learn all about this, anyway? I had no idea you were so…” So what, he thought, capable?

“My dad always loved taking pictures when I was younger, he showed me all I know…this is his old camera, actually. He always sends me pictures from his business trips.

“Well, uh…that’s really…” Abe bit back a sigh. He hated lowering his guard to compliment people.

“I know, I’m sorry–”

“Incredible, Mihashi.”

“Huh?”

“I said they’re incredible. You should keep taking pictures.”

No one had ever said something like that to Mihashi before. Then again, he never really shared this hobby with anyone. Abe had to stifle a laugh at the happy fidgeting from the shorter.

[lorz-ix]

Time for another "I was bored this summer so I binged an entire horror series" post

As with the Saw one, I'll keep my thoughts on each entry as brief as possible, since these tend to take a while to write. Also trying to avoid spoiling stuff as much as I can, since that would ruin the point of making recommendations.

The Purge (2013)

When discussing this series, this is pretty much the only one people broadly tolerate. The premise is very easy to understand: the very conservative US government has instituted a "yearly national holiday" during which all crime, with a few extreme exceptions, is made legal for 12 hours. The subtext isn't subtle at all, it's obvious that the government is using this event as a scapegoat to avoid addressing broader social issues. Violent crime is supposedly kept under control because people "relieve their violent feelings" once a year, they don't have to care about poor people and welfare since they're massacred during every purge, as the primary targets of the violence.

It's a very clear satire of how conservatives turn a blind eye to these issues in real life, how they justify violence when it benefits them and the gun lobby, how they're classist as hell, how this classism manifests as racism since it disproportionately affects minorities. You might think the messaging isn't that smart, but I think it's neat, and it's used as pretty cool background for a decent thriller here.

The Purge: Anarchy (2014)

Extremely simple. Do you think you would enjoy some worldbuilding after watching the previous movie? Do you care about the plot of the movie itself, "lore" aside, being super generic? Do you want the political messaging to get even more explicit? Then you might enjoy this.

I really mean it, it's a very nothing movie unless you're the kind of fan who cares about questions being answered rather than following an interesting story.

A nugget of worldbuilding I really like though? The government knows most people don't want to go out there and kill each other or commit crimes for fun, so they manufacture violent incidents to make it look like the purge works. Really makes you think...

The Purge: Election Year (2016)

Hmmmmmm I wonder if the year this came out and that subtitle are related...

A slightly more interesting affair than Anarchy, they at least have some strong stakes in this story. We mainly follow an opposition candidate to the presidency who's rising in popularity and wants to get rid of the purge. We understand that the holiday, despite everything, is very unpopular, but the current government will enlist the help of neo-nazis to get rid of the opposition. The satire is reaching new levels of unsubtlety and I honestly kinda love it.

What I don't love is the implication that winning an election is all it takes to get rid of the problem, along with other milquetoast soy latte liberal takes. Black liberation groups are generally painted in a positive light in the series, but it feels somewhat dishonest when the savior is a white girlboss. Truly a very 2016 movie.

The First Purge (2018)

That first teaser poster was somehow even more 2016 than the previous flick, holy Jesus Christ this is very funny.

I feel pretty much the same as I did with Anarchy. Generic flick, focuses a lot on disadvantaged, african american communities, makes very similar points to the ones we saw before. If again, the "lore" is your thing, this prequel might be of interest, otherwise you can skip it.

The Forever Purge (2021)

Shit, finally something interesting, I thought. This story starts off in a previously unseen setting, a southern town. We get to see the prejudiced relationships between mexican immigrants and wealthy white americans. The premise said "the purgers want to keep the massacre going after it's over", so I thought it meant "banning the purge didn't work", which is the point I wanted to see. But no, we learn very early on that the original party simply won the elections and re-instated the holiday, which is a way more underwhelming way of getting there. The purgers simply don't want the holiday to be over after 12 hours, and somehow things devolve into an uncontrollable nation-wide riot.

Is it more interesting and a bit scarier than most previous entries? Yeah, a bit. Does it bring new possibilities to the table? Yes, sure. Are the added analogies for immigration in this franchise's universe kinda neat? I guess. Does that make for a good movie? Not really. It's, once again, rather generic and forgettable once the actual conflict fully explodes. I really do like these for what they try to say and how explicitly they do so. I wish more movies had these levels of ridiculous, yet more or less adequate political satire.

The Purge (TV series, season 1, 2018)

10 episodes, lads. They're 1 hour long each. Watching this thing would take you longer than all of the movies combined, and let me tell ya, it's not worth it.

Starts off promising enough, it shows us more insight into the religious cults that grew around the purge for example, and that's properly disturbing, but after a while the story stops being intriguing. You quickly realize you're watching another generic bunch of characters go through a mostly forgettable series of perils. Yet again, an interesting world did not make for an interesting story in the slightest. These things aren't even that awful, they're just painfully bland.

The Purge (TV series, season 2, 2019)

Just like S1, it's 10 episodes and they're all one hour long. But thank god, finally this time they had a set of ideas that felt worth watching.

For the first and only time, the story focuses on what happens after the purge is over. How people get traumatized by the violent events. How pro-purge nutjobs eat up and spread propaganda all year round. What happens if shocking acts of violence do happen outside of those 12 hours? What happens if someone tries to kill you during the purge and they fail? How do you cope with the idea that someone wants you dead and no one would do a thing about it because it would have been legal and normal to kill you?

I think that focus on trauma and how the purge affects the psychology of every single person makes for some actually compelling characters for once. Finally, we get a story where we're not completely sure of what will happen next. It's probably not that great in the grand scheme of things, but god dammit, they finally made something remotely worthwhile with this franchise.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Homelander noted that James blended in quite well at the gala. Their grand entrance was a bit messy as the two were rushed at by gathering crowds. Something the blonde was used to, simply squeezing past and excusing himself. Though James was a bit more forceful, getting his point across much to the Supe’s amusement. He was the perfect right hand man, knowing exactly what Homelander needed even before he did. The perfect bodyguard, bouncer, trustworthy ally. The list was endless, however Homelander was far more at ease and calm with Norrington by his side.

The Supe took a glance around at all the different costumes, not that surprised at the options people had picked. Very few were actually creative, most looked like a last minute effort or a costume put together on the cheap. Not that it would really matter by the end of the night when everyone was too drunk to care what they were dressed as. Homelander noted the familiar looks, smiles and winks that came his way, people flirting from a distance and trying to get his attention, but he didn’t bite. Not this year.

No, his focus was actually more on mingling with the crowds, Homelander noting that James was being careful who he let close to them and who he kept at bay. Whether it was to keep his jealousy hidden, the blonde was unsure but didn’t comment. Each time they paused to chat, Homelander rested a hand on James’ lower back, always having some discreet contact with his lover. While he wasn’t against public displays of affection by any means, the pair hadn’t formally came out as a couple, and the last thing Homelander wanted to do was cause a scene.

Homelander couldn’t help but beam as James was addressed, only for the vampire to quickly correct the mistaken costume. The Supe snickered, flashing a playful wink at Norrington before conversation resumed. Some folk spoke to James, addressed him, showed some interest, while others pretended he wasn’t even there. But never Homelander. Even while in seemingly deep conversation, the Supe gently rubbed his lover’s back or spared a glance, a smile, something. So that James would know he wasn’t forgotten nor being left out.

Of course, it wasn’t long before the two ended up sharing their own conversations. Homelander would smile and nod, laugh at the appropriate times while communicating internally with James. Hm, for now at least. Though I won’t be able to hide it forever, as you well know. Homelander thought, a brief smirk gracing his lips. I promise to not damage the uniform because I know how much it means to you. The second you’re out of it though… That gloved hand on James’s back boldly slid down to give the vamp’s toned backside a firm, possessive squeeze, a reminder. A silent promise.

“Haha, you’re far too kind. Far too kind! Listen, I’d love to stick around and chat more, but duty calls and all that. No rest for the wicked. Excuse us.” Homelander said with a soft chuckle and a warm smile as his gaze then flicked to Norrington, a playful glint in his eye. “How about we get you a drink.” He said, leading the way to the back of the gala next to the buffet table and bar. “A glass, please. Thank you.” Homelander said as a waiter was quick to hand one over before serving other guests. The Supe smirked at James’ confusion as he had his back to gala, obscuring everyone’s view with the exception of him and Norrington.

“Don’t look so confused. I know you can’t drink or eat. What do you take me for…” He drifted off as he reached down and brought out a small flask. “If not someone who is extremely well prepared.” He said with a tilt of his head and a smug smirk, having a quick glance around as he unscrewed the flask and poured the crimson liquid into the glass, handing it to James. “Go ahead. Have a taste.” The blonde encouraged, proud of having easily smuggled some bloodwine into the gala for his lover to enjoy. Screwing the flask back up, he carefully reached over and slid it into one of Norrington’s pockets. “I’m the only weird one who does eat or drink at these things.” He said, though couldn’t help but reach over to grab a cracker with cheese, popping it into his mouth.

Amid the bustling gala, Homelander and Norrington found moments of genuine happiness. As the night wore on and got into the swing of things, they navigated through the crowd, occasionally engaging in playful banter.

The surprise came when Homelander reached into his suit and produced a small flask filled with bloodwine. James' initial surprise quickly gave way to that almost childish excitement. It was a gesture that almost made the vampire's heart skip a beat ( if could that beat that is ) , and James yearned to kiss him, even slightly leaning in. However, he managed to keep his emotions in check, offering a warm smile and a heartfelt thank you instead.

" Be still my unbeating heart. How thoughtful" he coos. Blowing him a kiss since he couldn't have him. " I don't deserve you, darling truely.. but I love you even more if that's remotely possible "

With a glass of bloodwine in hand, he raised it to Homelander in a silent salute, expressing appreciation all the more for his thoughtfulness. The rich, familiar taste of the bloodwine making the night that much more special. Trying not to make a scene with the glass, mind you. But the moan he could not fully hold back.

"I'll have what he's having!" called one guest pointing at Norrington's glass , unaware that what he had in the glass was from a private stash.

"Something tells me.. you wouldn't be pleased with that selection.. " James chuckled. Ever so slightly letting himself slouch in a 'relaxed' stance making him seem not as toweringly tall. In fact.. since getting with Homelander he finds himself slouching more not seem taller than his lover.

As they relax and enjoy the festivities, the sound of music had filled the air for some time now, and the dance floor remained conspicuously empty.

The MC's voice echoed through the gala hall as he made the first attempt to encourage people onto the dance floor, "Ladies and gentlemen, let's get this party started! Don't be shy; come and join us on the dance floor!" After the initial call, he tried again, "Come on, folks! It's time to dance and have some fun! Don't keep those dancing shoes waiting!" But when the dance floor remained largely empty, he turned his attention to Homelander, coaxing, "How about the man of the hour? Why don't you lead the way and set the tone for a night of dancing, Homelander? Give it up for Homelander everyone!!" And the cheers of excitement were near deafening.

In the spotlight, Homelander stood, the center of attention as eager women vied for the privilege of being his dance partner. It was a somewhat overwhelming situation, and it was evident that he was unsure about whom to choose for the first dance.

Without hesitation, James grabbed Homelander's hand, leading him to the dance floor. It was an unspoken acknowledgment, and an expression of the vampire's desire to share an intimate dance with the man he loves, even if their relationship had not yet been revealed to the world. " I've got you" he utters, which seemed to be what the pair often utters to each other when reassuring the other.

Halloween Gala

[cas-kingdom]

Kelly Severide and Matt's sister: 'I didn't mean to make you cry!"

"I didn't mean to make you cry!" Despite your words and the sincerity behind each one, you spoke them around quiet laughter. A hand pressed to your mouth as you straightened your back against Kelly’s headboard and watched as he rubbed at his eyes.

Kelly shook his head, grinning bittersweetly. “You didn’t.” He turned to look at you, his grin involuntarily widening as he clocked the tears rolling down your own cheeks. “Hey, you’re crying too!”

“Because you are!” you insisted, your laughter growing as you playfully shoved against him. Kelly took a moment, interrupted by intermittent chuckles as he brushed his finger across the pristine face of the watch you had just given him. It was a simple thing, the watch, something he would have thanked you for on any other day with a kiss on the forehead and a bear hug, but this one had Leslie’s fingerprints on it, imprinted on the inscription at the back of the watch. He turned it over, swallowing back further tears as he traced the words with his finger: Happy Birthday, Kel. Love, Les & Y/N.

“You both picked this out?” he asked, reaching up to wipe at his nose. The question had already been answered, but it was a little thing he wanted to hear again, to know that his best friend had helped choose this gift for him before she’d passed away, before any of you had known that this would be the last thing they’d share with each other.

You sobered at the question, nodding and lacing your fingers on your lap. “Uh-huh,” you said. “I thought it was a bit cheesy but she said that was a good thing.” Kelly laughed at that, sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth, and you dropped your head against his shoulder. “She would so be rolling her eyes at our sappiness right now.”

Kelly turned to press his lips to the top of your head, lingering there. “She would.”

“Oh, oh—” You reached across for the second package you’d brought into the room— “here’s another. I found it when I was unpacking after the move...almost forgot we bought it.” You let out a brief breath of laughter as you handed it to him. “Now, this one is cheesy, but Leslie insisted. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Kelly repeated, removing the wrapping paper. He felt the vibrations of your muffled laughter beside him when he withdrew a book, twisting it around to read the title.

“Personalised crossword puzzles,” you pointed out helpfully. “We made every single one and it took us absolutely forever. Now you can stop buying papers and looking like a grandad.”

“That’s…” Kelly nodded slowly to himself, searching for the words with wide eyes and an open mouth, but when none came, he snickered, bringing both hands up to cover his eyes. “You really went all out, huh, crazy?” 

You shrugged. “We’re just extremely thoughtful friends.”

There was a short note each from you and Leslie on the inside of the front cover, something Kelly didn’t notice as he flicked quickly through the pages, but you chose not to bring it up; whether because you wanted him to read them, Leslie’s especially, when he was alone, or because right here, right now, with the wistful nostalgia and the tears and laughter between you, you didn’t know how you’d feel seeing Leslie’s handwriting, and the smudge you knew she’d made on the word ‘forever’. So, you left it, accepting the way Kelly moved to wrap his arms around you after putting the watch back in its case and the book on his bedside table.

“Happy birthday, Kelly.”

"Love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone, but Kelly heard, and perhaps, somewhere, Shay did, too.

Chicago Fire Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Good Foundation

Pairing: Curtis Everett x shy!fem Reader (Timber and Flower, No Love Like Your Love AU)

Words: ~1.6 k

Summary: You finally achieve your dream of owning your own bar, but the contractor you hired may be dangerous for your health.

Warnings: explicit language, meet cute, brief view of some of our other couples, fluff, reader is clumsy, Curtis is a giant, they both smell good, no minors due to the AU

A/N: Well, continuing with the extremely soft mood I’ve been in, here’s some more fluff! I threw in some hints about where certain other couples are heading, as well, but it’s really hard to not refer to ninja in the second person, I almost messed that up so many times. Anyway, enjoy these to cuties!!!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!

“This is a fantastic proposal.” You smiled nervously at Ari when he gave you a warm grin, tugging on the edge of your sleeves as he and Ransom flipped through the folders you had brought with you. “And I know this is just for the downtown property, but gorgeous mentioned you had ideas for some other sites too?”

“Ye… yes.” You took a deep breath, huffing out a short laugh when Ransom’s wife gave you a thumbs up from where she was looking over her own copy of the proposal she had spent so much time helping you with. “I know there’s an old Mason’s lodge on Plum Island and a church compound in Framingham that could work for some different things.”

“What were you thinking?” Ransom flicked his eyes up from the folder and gave you a reassuring smile when he saw you take a shaky breath. “Hey, it’s ok, you’re doing great.”

“Um, the lodge has some old thermal pools as well as a sweat lodge that could maybe be a spa?” You shrugged and tried to keep eye contact with them. “And the church would make such an interesting restaurant and bar, plus it’s in a really nice area that could lend itself to a bed and breakfast with all the different cottages. Obviously I’d have to completely retrofit them to add plumbing for bathrooms and stuff, but I think it could be really popular. Plus the gardens would be beautiful once they’re a little more manicured.”

“And you’re able to put up half of the capital?” Ari whistled when you nodded, grinning at Ransom and his wife after he closed the folder. “I don’t feel like there’s any way we can pass on this, you really did some fantastic research. Do you have a contractor you’d want to use?”

“No, I don’t really know anyone.” You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, a grin splitting your face as you let yourself relax.

“What, you thinking Everett?” Ransom smiled at Ari when his wife came and wrapped her arms around his chest so she could kiss the top of his head after congratulating you.

“Yeah, he’s been looking for jobs in the area to get more established, and you know he loves restoration projects. I’ll give him your contact info, sweets.” Ari winked at you as he rose to his feet, wrapping you in a big hug that made you let out a happy squeak. “I wish I could go out with you all to celebrate, but I’ve gotta meet the fiancé to go over the menu for the reception, and if I’m late at all we run the risk of ending up with nothing but cookies and candy.”

“I mean, I would be good working up some dessert themed cocktails if it ended up being that.” You giggled when he rolled his eyes with an indulgent smirk. “Let me know either way once you finalize the menu so I can work up some prospective beers, and some cocktails where you can’t taste the booze for your lightweight fiancé.”

“Thank you, sweets.” Ari gave you one more squeeze and the peck on the top of the head before heading out the door. “See you two at the fittings Saturday!

“Give my blondie a big kiss for me!” Dr. Drysdale beamed when her husband stood up and pressed his lips to her temple. “I told you this would go great, you were so nervous!”

You couldn’t believe how fast Ari and Ransom had gotten everything pushed through. It hadn’t even been two weeks and you were already meeting with the contractor at the library you were going to be renovating so it could be your very own bar, it was crazy. Even the fact that the bombshell wasn’t going to be there with you to act as a social buffer wasn’t totally freaking you out like it normally would, you were excited. You tucked yourself in a little isolated reading nook on the second floor, losing yourself in sketching your plans for everything while you waited for this dude to show up.

It was easy to lose yourself in your plans, so engrossed in your sketching you didn’t even hear him come in. Curtis spent a good five minutes looking for you when he got there, finally walking up the stairs and sighing when he caught a glimpse of you all hidden away. He couldn’t even be mad that you hadn’t acknowledged him even after he’d called for you, the way your nose was all scrunched up in concentration and how you kept pushing this one lock of hair out of your face absentmindedly. God, you were cute.

Curtis leaned on the door frame and ducked his head as he watched you continue to work, finally clearing his throat when you still didn’t acknowledge him after a few minutes and biting his lip to avoid chuckling when you let out an adorable little squeak.

“Cur…Curtis?” Oh god, he was huge, he filled the whole doorway and even then he had to duck so he wouldn’t crack his head against the lintel. It was making you lightheaded. “I… I’m so sorry, I got distracted. Have you… have you been here long?”

“A bit but it’s fine, gave me a chance to check the place out.” He didn’t miss the way your legs squeezed together when he stepped closer to you, his hand completely engulfing yours when he reached out to shake it and helped you rise to your feet. “Are those your plans?”

“Plans? Oh right, plans, yes.” Right now you were cursing your friend for ditching you. You didn’t care how good her excuse was, how the fuck were you supposed to be any kind of coherent when this massive tree of a man who smelled like pine and mountain air was looking at you with those soft, impossibly blue eyes? “Um, maybe we do another walkthrough and I can talk through what I’m thinking for each area?”

“Sounds good.” He clenched his jaw when you walked close to him and stopped short, running back for your sketchbook and then up to him again and then huffing out a cute little flustered breath as you looked all over the room. You were so frazzled and adorable with your stammering he just wanted to rub your shoulders, but he figured that would spook you. And it would be wildly inappropriate, what was wrong with him?

“Ok…ok, so this I was thinking could be a secondary bar and some private booths, maybe?” You shuffled through your papers as you tried to collect yourself. “Like, this bar could be just for liquors and cocktails while the downstairs bar would be focused on the beers and we’d have the kitchen and everything.”

“We can make that work.” He shuffled out of the way when you scurried past him, closing his fist around nothing when you stumbled just a little so he wouldn’t reach out and grab you, because he was pretty sure if he touched you right now he wasn’t going to be able to stop. “How many of the original features do you want to keep?”

“Oh, as many as possible.” You tried to smile at him but looked away immediately when you felt heat flush your face, keeping your eyes on your feet as you walked down the stairs side by side. “That’s kind of the whole point, to preserve as much of the history as we can…”

You took your eyes off your feet for just a second and missed a step because you were looking at just how large the man standing next to you was and thinking about how big he was in places you couldn’t see, like a perv. Curtis moved faster than you would have thought possible to wind his arms around you and keep you from tumbling down the stairs, your shriek getting cut off when he yanked you into his chest and damn it, you swooned.

“Shit, are you ok?” You smelled like fresh baked bread and wildflowers and he had been right, he didn’t want to let go of you. “Maybe we put a railing on these stairs?”

“Ahem… hmm, that’s smart.” You hated how tiny your voice was, your palms pressed to his chest, his very firm chest, as you tried not to lose yourself in how incredibly warm he was. “Safe.”

“Yes, safety is very important.” He couldn’t help himself, he tucked his fingers under your chin and pushed your mouth closed. “Why don’t you show me what else you want to do, then I’ll draw up some blueprints for us to go over, ok?”

“Ok.” You sighed when he released you after giving you a squeeze, showing him to the archives section you thought would work well for the kitchen.

Curtis was just barely paying attention to everything you were saying, but he took in enough through your bashful looks and cute little stuttered explanations that he came up with a good idea of what he could work with. And he managed to make plans for the two of you to meet up in a few days once he’d drawn up some preliminaries, giving you a soft smile when you thanked him and squeaked out that you were looking forward to working with him. He was gonna have to get better control of himself, Hal would give him so much shit if he turned into a flirty idiot on the job site.

[ladytshelby]

So We Meet Again

Tommy Shelby x f!Reader

Part 1

Summary: Reader goes to The Garrison after work and sees the man she's been thinking of all week. Just overall sweetness where they both have a nice evening that will hopefully lead to something more.

Word Count: 3419

Warning: mild swearing, drinking, some kissing, and things (if I left anything out, please let me know).

I have finally finished the 2nd part of "That First Meeting." I desperately love sweet Tommy and cannot get enough of him. In my opinion, soft Tommy and love-struck Tommy are the best.

I hope you enjoy the story. Let me know what you think.

It's been a week since you met the infamous Thomas Shelby at the fancy club your best friend Sarah dragged you to, and you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t thinking about him.

You often catch yourself thinking about his piercing blue eyes or sharp smile. The way the air seems to be sucked out of any room he’s in. Your meeting can’t be called anything but brief. You shared a drink, a few laughs, a couple of glances, an evening you desperately want to experience again and again.

But to your dismay, he still hasn’t called you. Deep down you knew he probably wasn’t going to. He didn’t get your number thanks to his brother beating someone to a bloody pulp and ruining the moment. He said he would find it and you imagined him frantically looking through the phone book like a mad man whose sole mission was to get a hold of you, but that’s just the hopeless romantic in you talking.

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

You look up and see the face of Sarah extremely close to yours. You can see the small smudges of mascara under her eyes from her habit of rubbing her eyes throughout the day. She chose to wear bright red lipstick with a black dress which usually means she’s up to something.

The two of you have been best friends and thick as thieves since childhood when she moved next door to your house. Most of your fondest memories are with Sarah. They range from splashing in the cold Birmingham mud puddles, getting in trouble because you ruined your best Sunday stockings to sneaking out to drink whiskey and watch handsome boys play cricket.

You smile, shaking your head. “I’m not even going to lie and say that I was.”

She tries to flick your nose but you easily fend her off. “As I was saying until you rudely went off to la-la land probably dreaming about a certain handsome fella with blue eyes. A couple of ladies at the front desk are going to The Garrison in Small Heath and I told them we would go with them.”

“And what if I already had plans, hmmm?”

The look Sarah throws your way can be equated with 'get real.'

She knows more than anyone that you don't have much of a social life at the moment. Work and an ill mother rarely leave room for leisure. when you get home you hardly possess half the mind to change out of your work uniform and crawl into bed.

"Don't make jokes, Y/N, it's unbecoming of you." Sarah smiles and steals a grape from your lunch bag. "You're coming and I will not take no for an answer."

"I don't have a dress. I can't go in a nurse's uniform."

She laughs, "You simply cannot, my dear. That's why I have a spare, just for occasions such as this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sarah indeed had a dress stored away in the coat closet at the hospital. It's a simple pale green that fell just below your knee and thankfully looked okay with your white loafers. The only thing is it sort of smells like dust and cleaning supplies making you wonder how long it sat in the closet. But alas, it’s nothing a bit of perfume can't fix.

The late evening air of Small Heath was cool and clear. You can smell the burning coals of the factories mixing in with the strong smell of motor oil. A couple of small girls are playing in the street in front of what you assume is their home. They have dirt on their dresses and faces while they laugh at each other and the awkward dances their dolls are making. The youngest one looks up and gives you a small wave which you return immediately. You remember being that small. You only cared about what was right in front of you at the particular moment, no stress or fear about tomorrow, just living in the moment.

“Hey Y/N, catch up. We’re almost there.” Sarah calls from several feet ahead of you.

“Coming.” You hurry and catch Sarah’s hand and give it a tight squeeze.

Maybe you should take that advice and just live, not simply exist. At least for one night.

~~~~

Cigarette smoke and whiskey greet you when you walk into The Garrison. There are people everywhere. A group laughing over by the bar, a man sitting alone and drinking at the table next to the stage; his cigar ashes falling onto the white napkins as he watches a young gentlemen polish his trumpet, a pretty blonde girl folding napkins behind the bar in a pale blue dress laughing at something the other barkeep said.

~~~~~~~~

After a few drinks, the laughs are flowing as freely as the music was dancing through the packed tavern.

You waft the smoke out of your face and nudge Sarah who was shamelessly flirting with some bloke with snow-white hair. “Hey, I’m going to get another drink. Do you want anything?”

“No Darling.” She slurs and pats your cheek and gestures to the man behind her. “I’ve got all I need right here.”

Laughing at your friend’s antics, you make your way to the bar, making sure not to trip over a random foot. The woman barkeep sets down a glass and gives you a big smile asking in a cute Irish accent “What can I get for you?”

You open your mouth to give your order but it’s not your voice that answers her, “She’ll take an Irish whiskey, Grace. Make it two.”

She-Grace nods, “Of course, Mr. Shelby”

You turn and meet the blue eyes of the man you’ve been thinking about all week. There were times when you thought you dreamt the whole night, a cruel and wonderful concocted fantasy made up by your subconscious. But here he is standing right in front of you dressed like the gentleman he wants the world to believe he is. You can tell even though you have only spent a few hours with the man, he wears his suits and smiles like armor, hiding his true self underneath.

“So we meet again, Mr. Shelby,” You say as you blindly take your whiskey from Grace and mutter a soft thank you.

“So we do, Y/N, so we do.”

Well, at least he remembered your name and how you like your whiskey. You reach to find the money you crammed in the dress’s ridiculously small pocket, but Tommy puts a large note on the bar and nudges you toward his table in the very back, his arm brushing against yours making your skin tingle and hair stand on end.

You use the opportunity to get a good look at him. He’s even more handsome than you remember if that’s even possible. The sharp lines of his shoulders and the obviously toned body underneath. The coat he is wearing is jet black and expensive. His shoes are worn but polished.

The table is small and round with only a couple of chairs. You notice the table is positioned where no one can outright see it but because of a couple of well-placed mirrors, Tommy can see the entire room.

He takes his coat off and slings behind his chair before sitting down and you do the same.

“I could have paid for my own drink, ya know.”

“I’m positive you could’ve but what kind of gentleman would that make me if I didn’t pay?”

“Are you a gentleman, Mr. Shelby, or are you just playing one?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

He smirks and rests his hand very close to yours, “And are you a polite, lady-like woman, or are you just fooling everyone into thinking you are?”

You slowly take a sip of your whiskey, letting the warmth wash over you. “You’re going to have to find that out for yourself, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy laughs and it sounds like a genuine laugh. A laugh you imagine many people don’t get to hear too often.

After both, your glasses have long been empty, Tommy stubs his cigarette in the glass ashtray, touches his knee with yours, and whispers, “Dance with me.”

You glance around and notice a few couples gently dancing to the music while the rest of the patrons are in their own little bubbles laughing, drinking, chatting the night away.

Moving to stand up from the table, your body decides to now remind you of the alcohol you’ve consumed. As you focus on staying upright, Tommy’s hand gently wraps around your arm to steady you. You mutter a soft thanks and smooth down the front of your dress. His hand then travels down grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together. His hand dwarfs yours and you can feel the rough calluses contrasting with the softness of his palms against your own. He leads you to the middle of the dance floor and rests his hands on your hips. You mimic his movements wrapping your arms around his neck. The two of you begin to sway, not talking, just letting the music and moment take over.

You notice a couple of patrons watching the two of you. Most of them look at Tommy with admiration and awe while a few others have a glint of fear in their eyes, holding their partners a little tighter. It is a gentle reminder that the man who has been nothing but a gentleman has a ruthless and dark reputation. Tommy must sense the added attention and pulls you closer and you respond by leaning into his chest and moving your arm to wrap around his strong waist. His thumbs start rubbing small circles on your back.

When the song comes to a close and the singer turns to speak to the other musicians, you look up at Tommy and tease, “You’re a very good dancer, I thought you would be stepping on my toes.”

“I’m glad I’m exceeding your expectations.” He smirks and lightly brings his foot down on your foot.

You jump back. “Hey, don’t go stomping on them now; these are very fancy shoes, ya know. Can’t be having scuffs all about them.”

Tommy looks down at your shoes and slowly tracks his way up. Slow enough to make your cheeks warm. with his eyebrow quirked. “Those shoes are bloody awful.”

You pinch his arm and retort, “I happen to think they are the height of fashion. I saw the queen herself sporting a pair the other day. But of course, they’re horrendous, Tommy! They are nursing shoes.”

He laughs that laugh again. You decide you want to keep hearing it over and over again. You’re going to fall asleep thinking about his laugh and the fact it was you that made him do it.

“You know, Tommy, I thought you’d forgotten about me, that I dreamt our meeting or something.” You confess to him, finally letting him know what has been bothering you all week.

Tommy takes your hand and turns you in a circle and Sarah catches your eye. She is also dancing with the man from earlier. She smiles and makes kissing faces at you.

“Dreaming about me, aye?”

You scoff, “Not by choice, believe me. I would have rather been fast asleep.”

After a couple more songs, Tommy leans down and whispers in your ear to follow him. You silently agree and take his hand once again. He brings you to a room that smells of old smoke and mischief. The single light in the room illuminates the dust particles floating in the air, and the table has a crack running down the middle with small stains that suspiciously looks like blood. The booth seats are small with cracking green leather and a yellow cardigan crumpled in the corner.

You turn when you hear the door behind you shut and lock. Tommy slowly makes his way towards and takes your hand bringing it up to his lips placing a soft kiss on your fingers. “I did try to find your number, your address even, but it turns out,” He turns your hand over and places another hot kiss, this time on the inside of your wrist. “You are very difficult to find.”

Warmth begins to spread through your entire body as if your blood has been lit on fire. You watch as his fingers dance their way up your arm and over your shoulder to then tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His other hand wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

“I’ll forgive you this time.” Your voice comes out as barely a whisper.

“Just this once?” He questions.

You nod meeting his gaze. “Just this once.”

“How very generous of you.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you laugh, “You should feel lucky. I don’t give many people second chances.”

You can still hear the music coming from the other room. It’s faint, and you can’t decipher what the man is singing about.

Tommy slowly starts to sway and you along with him just letting the music wash over the two of you like before. He rests the side of his head on top of yours and you play with the ends of his hair. You can feel the beat of his heart. Its beat is calm and strong and steady. You think that yours must be going a million miles a minute and surely about to burst out of your chest.

Tommy breaks your train of thought when he says, “At the moment, I consider myself the luckiest man in all of England.”

You look up and find that he is already looking at you with a small smile.

“Just England?” You retort, smirking.

Snorting, Tommy removes one arm from your waist and flicks your nose. You try to swat his hand but miss. “Okay smartass, the luckiest man in the entire world.”

“That’s better.”

The song slowly comes to an end but you continue to gently sway. He is still looking at you and you are looking at him just the same. You decide that his eyes can only be compared to what you remember the ocean looking like. You have only seen it once when you were a child, and even then, you are sure it would not compare to the light blues and small swirls of dark blue that you can only see when you’re up close.

As a child, you remember Sarah telling you about sirens and how they lure sailors in with their song, only to drown them and steal their treasure. In this case, Tommy is a siren. Luring you in with pretty words and a beautiful face.

And like a pirate in the storybooks, you have this overwhelming urge to kiss him, to be pulled under, letting him take anything he wanted from you just as long as he keeps looking at you the way he is. So you stand on your toes and do just that.

He responds almost immediately, placing his hands on either side of your neck, gently caressing your skin while you fist your hands into his shirt. He is kissing you in a way that makes your knees weak and head spin. He is touching you in a way you only thought possible in the silly little novels you read and joke about with Sarah.

You gasp into his mouth when he suddenly bites your lip allowing him access to your mouth with his tongue. He moans softly when you match his movements. He eventually breaks the kiss just to turn his attention from your lips to your neck. He trailed all along your throat, whispering sweet nothings between each searing kiss. They ranged from, “you are so beautiful,” “I’m glad you decided to stumble into this place tonight. Right into my arms.”

“I didn’t stumble.” You whisper breathlessly.

Tommy removes himself from your neck and looks at you confused. His lips are swollen and his eyes shiny. You know yours are probably the same. “What?”

“I like to think I walked in here rather gracefully.”

He throws his head back and laughs before resting his forehead on yours. Amusement paints his face when he says, “Out of all the things I said, you decide to focus on that.”

You giggle and kiss his nose, “I just don’t want you to think I am some clutz or something.”

“I promise I would never think such a thing.” He replies before closing the gap between you. You can feel him smile into the kiss causing you to do the same. His hand moves to your shoulder and edges the sleeve of your dress down so he could kiss your bare skin. You hum and move your hands to his chest. You want his lips back on yours so you grab his face and move it back to yours.

This kiss is different. This is more passionate, heated, and all-consuming instead of the sweet and slow one moments before. His hands are everywhere and you can hardly keep track of where they started and where they’re going. You honestly don’t care as long as he keeps doing it.

He begins to slowly move you to the booth behind you but stops when there is a quick knock on the door. You both freeze but don’t take your hands off each other.

“Y/N, are you in there? We are about to head home.” The person outside the door was Sarah. She sounded drunk, her words coming out slow and slurred.

You look up at Tommy and see that he is no longer smiling. He is not mad but a look of disappointment covers his features. You want to kiss that look off his face and make him smile again, but you know you need to go. You have work tomorrow and you don’t want Sarah to have to walk home with girls we barely know.

“I should go,” you whisper, “But I don’t want to.” You want to stay in this room with Tommy forever. Now that you got a taste of him, you want more and more.

“Let me take you home.”

You shake your head. “We will be fine, I promise. We don’t live very far from here.”

Tommy moves to get something out of his jacket pocket. He grabs your hand, giving you a small pocket knife.

“What is this for?” You look at the object, it still being warm from being in his jacket. It is small and silver. It looks old and well used. His initials are engraved in what can only be called a child’s writing.

“Just in case you run into trouble.”

“I can’t take this, Tommy. It looks special.”

He nods, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “It is special. That is why I am giving it to you, so I can see you again to get it back.”

Laughing, you kiss him again. “You’re very cunning Mr. Shelby.”

“That I am.”

“Y/N?” Sarah’s voice again cuts through the moment.

“Just coming. One moment please.” You shout back.

You begin looking around the room to look for a pen to write your contact information down. You are not leaving until he has it You want more nights like this one. Nights full of dancing, kissing, laughing. Of just having fun.

Under the table, you notice a stub of pencil and you reach down to grab it. You take a napkin and hastily write down your address and phone number.

“What are you doing?” Tommy comes up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as you write.

“I’m doing the work for you.” You turn around and stuff the napkin into the pocket where a pocket square would normally be. “Now do not lose that and forget to call me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He places a kiss on your cheek and then your lips one more time. Before the kiss can get deepen, you break away from him. “I better go before she busts through the door and either passes out or vomits and trust me, we don’t want either of those things to happen.”

You give him one last quick kiss before moving towards the door, his pocket knife tucked tightly in your hand. “I’ll see you again Tommy Shelby.”

He gives one last smile that you will surely dream about until you can see him again. “You damn sure will.”

[neon-junkie]

White Smoke, Blue Lines

Summary: There are many things that the Jedi Order forbids: Attachments, specifically ones with Clones, and partaking in drugs - both of which you're about to break, when a certain clone helps you obtain the specific herb that you're after.

Pairing: Hardcase x Jedi Reader Reader Description: Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of her appearance.

Warnings: Use of Drugs. Tags: Sharing a joint, Mutual pining, Flirting, Teasing, First time, Making out, First kiss, Shotgun kisses, Smut, Oral (receiving), Dirty talk, Grinding. Word count: 7.3k Notes: Personally, I'd like to think that most of the Jedi love getting blazed as fuck, especially Yoda, that little froggy bong-smoking fucker, but logically, they'd say no to drugs. Either way, I just want to share a joint with Hardcase, so here's the fic for it >:)

"Your girlfriend's heading our way, Hardcase," Jesse prods, slapping his brother's arm to get his attention.

"Hey! Wha- she's not my girlfriend," Hardcase huffs, pushing Jesse back, squabbling whilst still on the landing platform.

"Yeah, but you want her to be," Jesse snickers, and Fives joins in, giggling away as the pair begin to bash their skulls together.

You clear your throat, interrupting the presumably playful banter that is going on between two of the 501st boys. The 501st aren't your battalion, but they sure do feel like it, considering almost all of your missions are paired up with General Skywalker's. You have your own men, and he has his, but there's an unspoken agreement that when working together, they're both of your men, and all the clones are content with that.

That being said, you know each of Skywalker's men by name, ranking, personality and whatnot. You've spent the last few years quite literally by their side, squished together on gunships and cruisers, dragging each other from beneath rubble and fallen clankers, and there's even been a few incidents where they've had to carry your injured self from battle. Nasty memories, but you have the 501st to thank as your saviours.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," you say with a soft laugh, watching as their eyes go wide, locking onto yours. Jesse and Hardcase clear their throats, removing each other from their locked stances, and they straighten their backs as they greet you with a shy "General."

Your gaze turns to Hardcase as you politely ask, "Hardcase, may I have a word alone?"

Jesse begins chewing on his bottom lip in an attempt to mute his laughter, but a few snorts slip through. You've overheard Jesse and many others tease Hardcase for his apparent feelings towards you, and although you haven't sensed too much from him, whatever feelings he may have are mutual. However, war and order comes first, and the likelihood of a Clone dating a Jedi is, well... there is no likelihood. It's forbidden. End of debate.

"Uh, of course," Hardcase nods, and follows you from the landing platform, heading towards the Barracks entrance, but not slipping inside. It's quiet here, minus the few clones passing by, unloading the gunships at their own pace.

Your eyes trail around the perimeter before speaking up, not paying any mind to the clones nearby, but assuring that there are no other Jedi in this vicinity. "Hardcase... uh, I was hoping for your assistance in obtaining something," you begin talking, keeping your voice level just above a whisper.

"W-what can I help you with, General?" Hardcase gulps. His hands flex into fists, bunching up at his sides, and he attempts to mute his thoughts, praying that nothing lewd will spring into his mind... again.

"Call me by my name, please, Hardcase. We're off clock, and when it comes to something like this, I'd rather... forget about the Order," you exhale, your gaze finally meeting Hardcase's wide eyes. Nervousness is radiating from him, and it doesn't help that you're prolonging your question, rattling his anxiety as every second passes.

Hardcase mutters your name with a nod, and states that he's "not quite following."

"Before I ask, I just want to explain that I'm approaching you as a friend, and not as a General-" you mumble, prolonging the question even more.

Hardcase nods, and sighs anxiously when you continue rambling. "-And I am coming to you specifically about this because, well, I am under the assumption that you also partake in such activities."

"Please tell me what you're after already!" Hardcase blurts out. Both of your eyes turn wide at his outburst, and he's about to apologize for letting his emotions control his mouth, but you speak up before he can.

"Do you know any dealers?" you finally ask.

Hardcase pauses, still with the same wide-eyed expression. His brow slowly raise as he thinks that he knows what you're on about, but just to be certain, he asks, "dealers... for?"

"Drugs. Weed, specifically," you sheepishly state. "My last one dipped off the radar, I assume he was arrested, but I-"

"I didn't know you smoke," Hardcase softly laughs, flashing you a lop-sided and extremely cheeky grin. You roll your eyes, followed by playfully punching his upper arm, which only causes Hardcase to laugh even more.

"I'm going to take your answer as a 'yes,'" you state, folding your arms and looking up at the clone, who wears his cheeky smile with pride.

"Yeah, I can sort you out," he nods. "I've been buying off the same guy for a while now, but he's weary of strangers. Maybe I could put a good word in first, or-"

"-You could come with me?" you suggest. "To pick up, I mean. That would certainly ease his anxieties."

"Y-yeah, s-sure," Hardcase gulps. His flushed, vibrant red cheeks are hard not to notice, and you're quickly hit with a thick cloud of flustered energy, radiating from him. You've not spent much time around any of the clones outside of work, minus popping by their quarters to pass on information and whatnot, and that one incident where you ran into them at 79's, but that's as good as it gets.

"I'll meet you outside the front of the barracks at 19:00, but around the corner beside that small diner, just to be safe, if that's alright with you?" You question.

"Y-Yeah," Hardcase stutters again, nodding eagerly at your request. "I'll comm my guy and let him know that we're picking up later. He's not too far from here, just a few blocks away."

"Okay," you sweetly smile. "I'll leave you to it, thank you again!" You say your goodbyes, heading in the direction of the temple to continue your chores for the day, leaving Hardcase on the barracks landing platform.

He pinches himself. That just happened, didn't it? That lovely, sweet, and kind General just approached him to ask about drugs? And she trusts him enough to meet up with him, off the clock, and conduct a deal with him?

The trust. Hardcase could go and rat you out to the Order right now. He could knock on the temple's front door, demand to speak to the manager, and tattle on you for partaking in such illegal activities. But he doesn't - why would he?

Hardcase snaps from his daze as he overhears his name being called, and Jesse and Fives appear in his line of sight. Hardcase huffs, knowing what's in store for him, and begins approaching his brothers. They've already stripped themselves from their upper-armour, relaxing in their blacks, now leaving them defenceless from the upcoming brotherly play fight that will no-doubt happen once their teasing has begun.

"What did the General want?" Fives questions as Hardcase approaches, who decides to continue walking into the Barracks, praying that he can drag them back into their quarters fast enough to prevent their teasing. Rex is always there to break up their bickering, especially when it involves certain comments about certain Generals.

"She just asked me about some stuff, nothing important," Hardcase shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand as he walks.

"That's not what it looked like when we walked past," Fives grins.

Jesse joins in on the smirking. "You both looked flustered, but you especially looked like a Cadet attempting to flirt."

"No, no. It wasn't like that-" Hardcase huffs. He debates telling them the truth, considering that they know and also partake in illicit activities, but is it worth the relentless teasing that he will face? Hardcase already knows his answer, and he already knows that his brothers will find out sooner or later - hopefully later when they catch him sneaking out of the Barracks unaccompanied.

"What was it like then?" Jesse raises a brow.

"S-She..." Hardcase stutters, and exhales heavily. He finally admits to the truth, and ensures that his tone of voice is hushed, not wanting anybody to overhear. "She asked me who to get stuff off, so I told her."

"Stuff?" Fives questions.

"He means..." Jesse explains with a wave of his hand.

"Ooooh!"

There's a pause from both of them, and for a brief moment, Hardcase assumes that that's the end of it. But he is unbelievably wrong.

"Wait- The General, a Jedi, asked you for..." Fives coughs. Both his, and Jesse's expression flicks between confused, concerned, and curious, and the pair keep their ears close to Hardcase as he continues explaining what just happened.

"Yeah," he sheepishly nods. "She basically said that she trusts me, and that I look like the kinda guy who knows where to get that stuff, so I said I'd help her out."

"Help her out how?" Jesse questions.

"Well, uh..." Hardcase stutters, rubbing the back of his neck once more. "You know what Dog is like, he's not too fond of strangers-"

"-Yeah, which is why he wouldn't sell to us at first," Jesse states the obvious, and Fives nods in confirmation.

"-So, uh, she's going to come with me later to pick up," Hardcase innocently shrugs. He bites his bottom lip, attempting to focus on walking down the corridor, rather than watching his brother's reactions. It's coming. Hardcase know's it's coming, and when the wave finally hits, it drowns him.

Fives and Jesse scream, instantly jumping on their brother to begin their playful teasing. "You have a date!" They begin barking at him, riling him up, unfazed by the curious onlookers that pass by. "It's a date, our boy Hardcase has a date!" They cheer, and Hardcase, attempting to mute his laughter, eventually pushes both of them off.

"It's not a date!" He instantly begins denying, only to be playfully shoved between both of them as they protest his protests.

"It's a date, Hardcase. You two are meeting up later for a date," Jesse purrs, wrapping his arm around Hardcase's neck as the trio turn the final corner to approach their quarters.

"What are you gonna wear? Something nice?" Fives questions, knowing that they own little to no personal clothing.

"Make sure you shave your balls, chicks love that," Jesse comments, raising a cheeky brow at his brother.

Hardcase finally shoves Jesse off him as he gags at his bold comment. He remains silent, as flustered as ever, quietly wishing that it is a date, rather than him accompanying you to pick up weed. His gaze turns to the quarters' door, and he quickly punches in the code, ensuring that his flustered expression is blocked from his brothers.

However, the second the door opens, Fives pushes him into the room, and proudly announces, "guess who's getting his dick wet later, boys!"

The torment has only just begun...

--------

Hardcase's pace is faster than usual, weaving his way through the endless sea of people that cover Coruscant. The diner is barely five minutes from the Barracks, but Hardcase is running late due to his brothers pestering him non-stop.

Their teasing was ruthless, exactly what you'd expect from a bunch of men, specifically siblings. Even Rex had joined in on the banter, but reminded his men that this definitely isn't a date as such things are forbidden, not to mention consuming drugs. The talk of his 'date' is not to leave the Barracks, and even when it is spoken about, it must be spoken in hushed tones to prevent by-passers overhearing it through the thick walls.

Hardcase tugs at his shirt again, cursing the smaller fit that he's borrowed off Tup. He's slightly thinner than Hardcase, and it seems that he buys his shirts even smaller to ensure that his best features are on display, pressed against the ironed fabric. Hardcase was originally going to meet up with you in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and his suggestion was met with a sea of tears as every single one of his brothers pushed him to wear something enticing.

"It is a date, after all," Dogma chimed in.

"It's not a date," Hardcase had replied. He had reached the point of auto-pilot, automatically reminding everyone that it's not a date whenever he heard those specific words.

His brothers ignored his declines, and collectively agreed that Hardcase is going on a date, whether he sees it as that, or not. They all helped doll him up; Tup loaned his navy blue shirt, sleeves rolled up at the elbows and the top few buttons undone, exposing his collarbones and teasing his toned pecs. Hardcase insisted that he wears black jeans, making his outfit seem more casual, rather than borrowing Dogma's suit pants.

Hardcase is assuming that he'll be back within half an hour, ready to tell his brothers "I told you so," when they ask why his 'date' didn't last long. He huffs to himself, finally reaching the destination, at to his surprise, you're already stood outside.

"There you are," you state as he appears in your line of vision. Hardcase, for once, manges to control his flustered expression as he locks on to what you're wearing; it's nothing fancy, casual attire, but you and Hardcase could easily be mistaken as a couple out on a date.

"Sorry I took so long," Hardcase sighs. "The boys were..."

"-being themselves?" you answer his statement, and he nods awkwardly in agreement. You playfully roll your eyes, knowing far too well how boisterous and bold his brothers are. "Anyway, lead the way," you gesture, and with that, Hardcase begins leading you on the short journey to his dealer's place.

"He doesn't live far from here," Hardcase reassures you, holding his hands up innocently.

"Good, hopefully he lives close to me," you say with a laugh, not wanting to trail too far.

"You mean... the temple?"

"Oh, no. I decided to get my own little apartment nearby. I needed my own space, the temple can feel over-bearing, and it's nice to... not feel like a Jedi, sometimes," you briefly explain, hoping that Hardcase understands your desire for self-isolation.

"Yeah, I can understand that," he shrugs. "At least you're able to get your own place. That sure would... be something," Hardcase sighs.

A gentle hand rests on Hardcase's forearm as he walks, and you give him a soft squeeze, reassuring him as you comment, "you know that I'm not fond of how the Republic treats clones."

"Yeah, I don't think there's many Jedi out there who are," he agrees. Hardcase exhales heavily, feeling your hand disappear from his forearm, and as he leads you down a side street, he decides to swiftly turn the conversation around. "He's just up here, I'll buzz for him to come down," Hardcase explains, and slips his comm link from his pocket, tapping away on the device.

"You know, I was going to suggest you come back to my apartment and share a joint with me. My way of saying thank you for helping me out," you suggest.

Hardcase almost drops his comm link, catching it before it hits the floor, preventing the device from being carelessly trampled on by his own boots. He lightly coughs, and his gaze meets yours as he replies, "we don't have to, I don't mind. I-I mean, I'm always happy to help out-"

"-Hardcase," you cut his babbling off. "I'd love to have a smoke with you, if you'd like to."

This time, Hardcase can't hide his flustered expressions. His cheeks begin contrasting heavily against his bold, blue tattoos, decorating his warm face; his pupils are wide, both with a mixture of nervousness and lust, and his mouth remains parted, forgetting how to breathe. Hardcase is so fixated on the thought of being around you, sharing a joint with you, going back to your apartment, that he doesn't overhear his name being called out, at first.

Hardcase finally snaps out of his startled state to see his dealer approaching, and heavily clearly his throat before introducing you to Dog. He's your stereotypical dealer, attempting to keep the exchange swift and quiet, and seems fond of you when you purchase a hefty amount of weed, wanting to ensure that you have more than enough to last.

Dog exchanges his comm link number with you before dipping off, ensuring that you can pick up off him any time. "Any friend of Hardcase's, is a friend of mine," he states. Huh, yeah. A friend.

Silence fills the air as you overlook the few grams that you've purchased before slipping it into your pocket, turning your gaze to Hardcase, who has zoned out once more. You raise a brow, and Hardcase suddenly remembers that he never answered your offer. "Y-yeah, we can go and share a joint at yours," he eagerly nods, followed by licking his drying lips.

"C'mon then," you playfully nudge, and begin leading the way to your apartment.

----

The journey home is short, filled with Hardcase's rambling rant about how a few of his brothers irritated him on the last series of missions. You questioned what was on his mind, and not wanting to admit the overwhelming array of emotions that he feels towards you, he decided to fill up the silence with bitching instead. It's a win-win; Hardcase gets to let off some steam, and you get to laugh along and enjoy Hardcase's rambling, something that he does when given the opportunity to.

Hardcase, especially now, sometimes forgets your abilities, and just how prominent they truly are. You know exactly how he feels towards you, and now that you're here, entering your apartment with him, you can forget about both of your statuses the second your apartment door closes. Right now, you're two friends hanging out, sitting on the couch after grabbing a drink for both of you.

Using your weed, Hardcase begins rolling a joint, putting his calloused fingers to work. He pauses his work to take a hefty gulp of his drink, parched from earlier when he felt the life draining from him at the idea of going back to yours. However, now that he's actually here, he feels content; maybe it's because your apartment is so welcoming and cosy, or maybe it's because your general presence often soothes him (when it's not riling him up,) but either way, he's finally comfortable.

You put some background music on, just loud enough to sit comfortably in your ears, and Hardcase announces that he's finished rolling. "Beautiful, isn't she?" he playfully states, holding the pristine joint up to your vision.

"Of course, she is. She's your creation," you smile. Hardcase flashes you a playful, puppy-like grin at your compliment, and you laugh at his warm expression. "Spark up," you state, and leave your seat to go and open some windows.

The joint is lit when you return, and your eyes lock onto the thick smoke flocking from Hardcase's lips as you take your seat beside him. "Here," he mutters, passing you the joint. Hardcase lubricates his mouth as you occupy yourself, smoking at your own pace, and the poor man almost spits water on you when he turns to see you exhaling, the cloud of smoke slowly trickling from your lips.

"What?" you question.

"N-Nothing," Hardcase coughs, attempting to clear his throat. "Went down the wrong way," he explains, and you pretend to understand his response. Your Jedi senses picked up the overwhelming attraction Hardcase felt when he locked his sights onto you smoking; you understand the attraction to the act of smoking, but never have you considered that somebody could feel such a way towards you.

That knowledge settles in the back of your mind, ready to be picked up on later on, hopefully when you've attained more confidence and relaxed even more. "Your turn," you state as you pass the joint back, your fingertips brushing against Hardcase's as he takes it from you.

Minutes pass as you two continue sharing the single joint, eventually being stubbed out in your ashtray. "How're you feeling?" Hardcase questions as he relaxes back on your couch, finding comfort in your variety of pillows.

"Good," you confirm with a nod. "I completely forgot to ask him what strain of weed this is," you sigh, coming to terms with the fact that you're going into this high blind.

Hardcase picks up the bag of weed on your coffee table, and looks it over before laughing to himself. You raise a brow, and he explains, "I don't know why I'm looking it over. It's not like I can tell."

You chuckle with him, already beginning to feel the swift effects of the mystery strain. Your hand runs through your hair, sweeping a few strands back off your face, and when you look up from the floor, your eyes instantly feel heavy. "Kriff," you curse.

"Good stuff?" Hardcase questions with a light laugh, melting into your couch. You turn to gaze at him, instantly noticing his lopsided smile; a deep red colour appears on his cheeks, and you dread to think what thoughts must be running through his mind if he's blushing at you.

"Yeah, good stuff," you confirm with a nod. Shuffling back onto the couch more, you get comfortable, tucking your legs against the pillows.

"You wanna stretch your legs out?" Hardcase questions, patting his toned thighs, maybe a little too eagerly.

You nod, and prop your legs up on Hardcase's lap, who instantly rests his forearms on top of them. He hands begin playing with the fabric of your pants, fiddling mindlessly, trailing his calloused fingertips up and down your shins. You chuckle at the image, seeing some of yourself in him; Hardcase overhears your laughter, and raises as a brow as he smiles and asks, "what?"

"You're a fidgeter too, huh?" you state.

Hardcase grins as he shakes his head, looking like a happy puppy. "Yeah," he confirms. "I've been told that back on Kamino, my growth chamber leaked. That's why I can never sit still," he shrugs, and adds, "not that I mind."

"I like that," you smile. "I love seeing how different all you clones are. Makes me forget that you're actually clones."

"Yeah, me too," Hardcase sighs. He looks away for a brief moment, silently reminding himself about the situation that he's currently in. As of right now, he's content and calm, enjoying a joint with a Jedi - an odd scenario, but Hardcase is fond of oddities. However, come tomorrow, he'll be back on the field, wiping out clankers with his chaingun; at least he can enjoy this moment before it passes.

"Fancy another?" Hardcase questions as he turns back to you, and smirks as he adds, "if you can handle it."

"Of course, I can handle it. You don't have to baby me," you scoff. "Maybe I should baby you instead, seeing as you're almost falling asleep on my couch," gesturing to Hardcase's extremely cosy state.

"No, I'm not," Hardcase scoffs in return, sitting upright instantly. "Your couch is comfortable," he innocently shrugs, and begins rolling another joint once you've moved your legs off his lap. "And how would you baby me, huh?"

A large, bright, and interesting lightbulb lights up in your mind; you've wanted to break the thick, tense ice between you two for so long, but given the circumstances, you've never been able to. Now is your chance!

"I'll show you how to properly smoke," you flirtatiously smirk.

Hardcase raises a brow as he meets your gaze, and he rolls his eyes at your remark. "I know how to smoke, sweetheart," he sighs, the pet name escaping without him realising. "But go on, let's see what you've got."

"Alright," you nod.

Hardcase rushes to roll the second joint, soon revealing a slightly crinkled joint, but that doesn't make it not smokeable. Rather than lighting it, he passes it to you instead, and watched curiously as you begin sparking up, puffing on the end to get the good stuff flowing. You eventually begin exhaling thick clouds of smoke, blowing them from your vision.

"Ready?" you question, and Hardcase eagerly nods, attempting to bite back on his laughter. He's so smug, certain that there's no way you can smoke better than him, and his smug expression remains as you intake an average amount.

Holding the smoke between your closed lips, you shuffle closer to Hardcase, pressing your thighs together, your shoulders tapping against each other before Hardcase turns his upper body to peer down at you. Your eyes meet his, and since your mouth is occupied and unable to instruct him, you resort to moving him into position.

You lightly grab his chin, and Hardcase follows your movement as you bring his lips towards yours. Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and Hardcase understands what you're signalling for. His lips part slightly, just enough for you to press your lips against his and blow the smoke into his mouth.

Hardcase shudders, and takes his time moving away from your lips to eventually blow out his share of the smoke. A sigh follows behind his exhale, and when he finally turns back to look at you, his eyes are half-lidded, but open enough to show his wide, lustful pupils, decorated by his amber irises.

"Good?" you simply question.

A cheeky grin covers Hardcase's lips as he nods eagerly, but it slips away as fast as it appeared, and he pouts as he replies. "I don't think I got much smoke, you'll have to try again."

You giggle, and Hardcase joins in, almost patting himself on the back for his boldly flirtatious comment. "Alright," you agree. The joint is pressed to your lips again, and you inhale heavily, holding the smoke in your mouth as you signal for Hardcase to get into position. He's cheekily grinning as he parts his lips, pressing them lightly to yours, and his eyes flutter shut as you begin blowing smoke into his mouth.

Hardcase can't help but swiftly kiss you before pulling away, turning his head in the other direction to exhale the smoke. He's grinning again as he turns back to you, his tattoos slowly turning purple as his cheeks begin turning up. "My turn," he chuckles, and takes the joint from your grasp.

Hardcase repeats your fluid movements, and he's now plucked up the courage to hold your jawline in the palm of his hand as he dips his head down to kiss you. This is definitely a kiss with smoke trailing between your lips; you don't even bother inhaling, watching through slowly-shutting eyes as the smoke disappears between kisses, fanning out into the room.

The smoke soon leaves, and you're still locking lips with Hardcase, feeling the faint, light stubble of his facial hair on your upper lip. His soft kisses quickly become firmer, desperate, hungry, and the hand that was once on your jaw slides up to entwine in your hair. You're not sure if Hardcase is a naturally good kisser, or if the weed in your system is making you more sensitive than usual, a burn forming between your thighs as the kiss deepens once more.

Boldly, you break the kiss and pluck the joint from between Hardcase's fingers, stubbing it out in your ashtray. He watches through half-lidded eyes as you straddle him, your knees resting on either side of his hips, introducing your crotch to his growing erection. He's still smirking, and his smile remains as he pulls you down to kiss him once more, this time with added mewls and moans, escaping whenever your lips slightly part.

"Hardcase?" you call out between kisses, and Hardcase lets out a softly grunted, "huh?" when you call his name.

"I wanna know something," you continue, your tone of voice thick with lust.

"Oh yeah? What?" Hardcase raises a brow, breaking the kiss so he can gaze up at you with his slightly red eyes.

"Do your tattoos cover all of your body?" you question, and instantly, Hardcase begins chuckling at your words.

"Why don't you find out for yourself, sweetheart?" he invites you in. You lick your lips as your hands move from his shoulders, finding the buttons on his shirt, and at an agonizingly slow pace, you begin unfastening each of them. Hardcase almost rips the shirt off once it's finally unfastened, discarding it on the other side of your couch, revealing his delicious form.

Hardcase is a meal of a man, toned from years of work and fighting. His tanned skin looks lush, contrasting against his blue tattoos that continue over his chest and arms, disappearing into the waistband of his pants. Your hands begin trailing over each line, admiring the flawless line work; they hook around the waistband of his pants, and your eyes meet Hardcase's as you continue talking.

"Can I take these off?" you question.

Hardcase playfully tuts as his hands find your waist, kneading at the fabric of your shirt. "Not until this comes off. Fair's fair, right?"

"Of course," you agree with a nod. This time, Hardcase is the one gawking over his form once your top comes off; his hands follow the flow of your body, every dip and crevice, every curve and bump. Just when he thinks this day couldn't get any better, you smile as you reach your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it slip down over your shoulders.

Hardcase's face literally lights up, grinning playfully as he moves his hands up to cup your breasts. "Mesh'laaaa," he slurs his words, followed by mumbling a series of phrases in Mando'a, and you can only assume that from his given expression, they're all words of affection. Hardcase, whilst still smiling, dips his head down to latch his mouth onto a nipple, flicking his tongue over the bud and sucking gently. He kisses along your chest when switching between each nipple, and rolls his hips as a way of encouraging you to get closer.

Slowly and softly, you begin rutting your hips, grinding down against his growing erection. Hardcase begins letting out the softest of moans, sucking on your nipples more firmly, his hands tightening their grip around your waist. "Karking hell," Hardcase grunts, moving his lips from your breasts to look up at you. "These have got to come off, please?" he both asks and suggests.

You swiftly nod, shuffling off Hardcase's lap. You undo your pants, shimmying them down to your ankles, and step out of them, leaving you almost bare. Hardcase goes to reach out, to grab you once again, but you tut and offer him your hand instead. "Are you coming?" you offer, and Hardcase swiftly grabs your hand before you can even finish your question.

You begin leading him towards your bedroom, your hand slipping from his as Hardcase shuffles out of his pants. He almost trips over his pants legs as he kicks them off, leaving them in a jumbled pile on the floor. His tattoos do continue even lower, partially hidden under his boxers, but you'll soon see for yourself.

You sit on the edge of the bed, offering your hand out once more to drag Hardcase on with you, but he rejects your offer. Whilst shaking his head, Hardcase settles onto his knees, his hands finding your thighs as he hungrily spreads them apart. Oh. He groans at the sight of your spread legs, despite still having panties on; you're uncertain if it's the weed effects taking place, or if Hardcase really is working this fast, but he rushes to kiss down both of your thighs, stopping just before your cunt and moving cheekily onto the other one. He's teasing you, but it's clear that his patience is running thin.

Hardcase groans as he finally licks a firm stripe over your clothed cunt, faintly tasting your slick through the thin fabric. He repeats the motion a few more times, teasing himself more than you, and swiftly decides that he needs your underwear off. Now. They're quickly removed, tossed onto the floor that he's settled on, and once again, Hardcase is the one groaning as he finally begins lapping at your folds.

Everything feels so rushed, your head spinning ever so slightly as you lie back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling between your fluttering lashes. Hardcase is a messy eater, unfazed by the sounds of wetness and slurping, lapping at your cunt like a starving man. He flicks between a series of motions, but always ensures that when he sucks your clit, he does it hard, chuckling to himself as you begin squirming on the bed from his actions.

"So karking good," Hardcase mumbles against you. "I can't believe I've finally got my head between your thighs," he groans, and slips his tongue into your entrance, tongue-fucking you a few times before deciding that you deserve something firmer to fill you up. You're unbelievably soaked, more than slick enough to fit two of Hardcase's thick fingers, pushing them slowly until he reaches his knuckles.

With his lips around your clit, Hardcase begins pumping his fingers, curling them to ensure that they brush against your g-spot with every thrust. You don't even realise that he's shaking at first, until you prop yourself up onto your elbows to notice that his other hand is moving rapidly. Hardcase has managed to free his cock, pumping it in time with his thrusting fingers.

His cock is gorgeous, girthy with a blue stripe running down the middle. Hardcase notices you staring and raises a playful brow, only for his expression to turn into concern as you smirk maliciously. Without saying a word, you raise your hand, and use your special abilities to begin jerking Hardcase's cock for him. He's forced to move his lips off your cunt, letting out a heavy groan as you begin jerking his cock.

"Karking hell!" Hardcase yelps, moaning hungrily as you pump his length. "I always forget you have those abilities," he chuckles, and returns to eating your pussy. Despite being occupied, his own words sink into his mind even deeper - you're a Jedi. He's hooking up with a Jedi. Hardcase is the lucky Clone who gets to enjoy seeing what else you can do with your Jedi powers. Kriff.

You sense the realisation from Hardcase, his thoughts barely clouded from the smoke that's still lingering in his system. You've become swiftly adjusted to the sensation of being high, but now that those thoughts are present, you realise how utterly blazed you are. Your head is, thankfully, no longer spinning, but your eyes are half-lidded, and you're almost constantly grinning, giving away your dazed state. Hardcase is the same, finally relaxing as smugness takes over, proud of himself for achieving such an unimaginable goal.

"Ughh," Hardcase grumbles against your folds. "Taste so good, you feel so good around my cock too! Well, I mean your... uh, the force feels good?" Hardcase stutters, raising a brow as he attempts to explain the new sensations washing over him.

"Why don't you come up here, and find out how good I feel around your cock?" you flirt.

Hardcase grins, scrambling up to his feet. He shuffles up onto the bed, toned arms resting on either side of your head, pinning you beneath him. Your juices are all over his chin, his blue tattoos glistening whenever the street lights through your bedroom window hit his face at the right angle. With a laugh, you clean him up, and the second you're done, he dips his head down to crash his lips against yours.

Your hands trail over his shoulders, admiring how toned and defined he is. Hardcase is softly mewling between kisses, expressing his hunger and desperation for you. He begins grinding his solid length against your folds, slicking himself up, but teasing himself more than he's teasing you. Either he's naturally sensitive, or the weed has cranked his sensitivity levels up tenfold.

Hardcase begins angling his hips, attempting to catch your pussy at the right angle and push his cock in; he breaks the kiss in order to concentrate, refusing to give up on his desires. Eventually, Hardcase manages, and lets out a heavy moan as he finally pushes himself into your tight cunt.

"Heh, no hands," Hardcase chuckles once he's fully sheathed. He holds himself there, and you're uncertain if it's because he's letting you adjust to his size, or because he needs a moment to collect himself. Both, possibly? Given his calming expression.

You swiftly grow impatient, and lock onto his gaze as you groan, "Hardcase, move."

"Yes, General," Hardcase cheekily replies, and you roll your eyes at his audacity.

But that playfully frustrated expression on your face is quickly wiped away, your brows turning upwards, and your mouth parting as Hardcase begins thrusting himself deep into you. He's girthy, stretching your walls with every thrust, filling you up with no room to spare. Hardcase seems to be moaning than you are, possibly, it's hard to tell, given your stoned state, and the fact that you're moaning just as loud.

Hardcase's thrusts are delicious, firm and fast, slowly bruising your inner thighs; you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles crossing over, and lightly grind your heel into his lower back as a way of spurring him on. Hardcase chuckles, and comments, "needy thing," before following your order and slamming into you even harder.

You're moaning way too loud, certain that you'll receive a noise complaint tomorrow. Whatever. You remind yourself that you don't care, that you need this, that you've been pining after this Clone for way too long. He's not letting you down, he never has, despite not being in your ranks. No doubt, you'll spend the next few days walking funny, receiving concerned expressions from Jedi and Clones alike; it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together, since Hardcase will definitely be walking with a limp.

Hardcase dips his head down, leaving purple marks along your collarbone. He's muttering between kisses, barely audible through his heavy breaths as he continues slamming into you. "C-Can't believe we're doing this," he grunts. "Been after you for so long, so kriffing long. You have no idea!"

You let out a soft laugh, "you don't exactly keep your feelings hidden."

Hardcase's cock comes to a halt, twitching deep inside you. He props himself up on his forearms, peering down at you as he asks, "you knew?"

"Everybody knows," you chuckle. You pull his head down for a kiss, reassuring him that the feelings are mutual. "Wouldn't be here if I didn't feel the same," you mutter against his lips.

Hardcase breaks the kiss, raising a brow as he jokingly replies, "you wouldn't be here? But this is your apartment-"

His words are cut off as you let out a laugh, and Hardcase laughs along with you, soon returning his lips to yours. He has you pinned perfectly to the bed, his hips rolling ever so slightly as he introduces his tongue to yours, swallowing down your moans whenever the kiss briefly breaks.

As Hardcase pulls away from the kiss, he slips his cock from your slickness, and lets out a grunt as he pushes himself up onto his knees. He eagerly pats the bed as he orders, "on your hands and knees, sweetheart."

Whilst smirking at him, you shuffle into the new position, peering over your shoulder once ready. Hardcase licks his lips at the sight, his large hands kneading as your ass, enjoying everything you have to offer. He spends a few moments simply playing with your ass, one hand moving from the mound of flesh to run his thumb over your folds, finding your clit and grinding over it.

"Hardcase," you mutter.

"I know, I know," he chuckles as he moves his hands away, lining himself up. "Hard not to do that, you just look so good," he grunts, and finally begins pushing into you again.

A firm pair of hands find your hips, wrapping around them, holding you tightly. Hardcase jumps back into his rushed pace, eager to feel your walls fluttering around his cock once more. His whines and moans start up again, matching your own, the sound of skin against skin echoes around the room.

Hardcase begins muttering sweet praise, "sweet girl, my perfect girl, so karking tight around me-" he lets out a grunt. "Kriff, I'm not gonna last long, babe," Hardcase informs you.

You reach down between your thighs, fingertips about to touch your clit, but Hardcase chuckles as he redirects your hands. "Here, let me," he says with a smile. Hardcase wraps his large palm around both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back, your head dropping onto the duvet. His other hand slips beneath you, firm fingertips begin rubbing eagerly at your clit.

Needless to say, Hardcase has a lot on his plate, and his thrusts become somewhat sloppy, but more than enough to get you off. "Come on, girl, cum on this cock," Hardcase instructs through gritted teeth. His cock begins twitching inside you, an orgasm sitting on the edge, but like the gentleman that he is, he waits for you to hit peak first.

You cry out his name, part of your words muffled from your face being smothered against the duvet. Your orgasm finally hits, your walls clenching tightly around Hardcase's thick length. He grunts, and swiftly removes his hands from you, rushing to pull out his length. His release lands on your back, grunting and sighing heavily as he paints you white.

"Kriff, oh, babe," Hardcase sighs, jerking his length slowly to push his final drops of cum onto your bare body. "Wait here," he mutters, and rushes to climb off the bed. Hardcase almost trips over his own feet, his legs turning into jelly in his post-orgasm phase, along with whatever weed is still pumping throughout his body.

Hardcase returns moments later with a damp towel, and cleans you up whilst humming playfully. He lands a light slap on your rear as he announces, "done!"

You roll onto your back, star fishing on your bed; your chest is rising and falling heavily, matching Hardcase's deep breaths, who joins you on the bed after tidying himself up. He's slightly sweaty from his workout, but still wears that usual cheeky grip as he props himself up on his elbow, lying on his side, looking down at you.

"Did you have fun?" Hardcase asks, the audacity.

You roll your eyes, laughing lightly as your hand moves up to wrap around his neck. "Come here, you," you flirt, and pull him down into a tender kiss, reassuring him that you definitely had fun.

Hardcase's hand finds your waist, fingertips running along your skin whilst he shares a tender moment with you. The kiss isn't rushed and heated like earlier, but soft and loving, warming your chest, and sending shivers along your skin. As it breaks, Hardcase flashes you a grin, then kisses the tip of your nose before falling back on your pillows.

"C'mere," he mutters, waving his hand. You follow his lead, settling in the curve of his neck, sprawling yourself over him whilst still regaining your breath. There's silence for a while, a welcoming silence, shared between two people who have finally broken the ice. Hardcase eventually fills up the silence as he asks, "you'll let me take you out for dinner some time, won't you?"

You move your head off his chest, peering up to see his warm brown pleading eyes, his bottom lip slightly sticking out. "Yeah, of course, I will," you agree with a sweet smile.

Hardcase hums happily as he places a tender kiss on your forehead, his hand moving up to direct your head back onto his chest. Neither of you say anything after that, content with the silence that once again fills the room, later complimented by light snores as you both drift off to sleep.

[footballxposts]

The Rest Of Our Lives - Mason Mount Series🦋 (Chapter Four) Home

Warnings: fluffy af sorry if u cry

Recommended listening: Anyone by Justin Bieber (Slowed).

Quick A/N: SMUT NEXT CHAPTER I PROMISE!

Taglist: @storyofavengers @football-rambles

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Standing waiting for our Uber to arrive, Mason had wrapped his jacket around me to keep me warm, along with his muscular arms; his touch one that I had missed so much. It seemed wrong to be so close with him again, but yet so right at the same time. It’s funny isn’t it? How your brain can convince you one thing; but your heart is certain about another. Realistically, I didn’t want to be attached to him again too quickly, given what had happened before. But in that moment, it just felt like being with him was where I belonged.

The ride to Mason’s house was a quiet enough one. But a comfortable quiet, almost dare I say, perfect. The dark streets were only illuminated by a few street lamps, offering me a glimpse of his precious eyes every so often. As I gazed out the window of the taxi, I felt a nudge just above my elbow. Now looking back at him, he was offering a small smile suggesting for me to come close to him. As I did, I rested my head against his shoulder, his head resting against mine with his left arm now around me. For a brief moment, I closed my eyes and almost forgot about the past. Mason Tony Mount was all I would ever want for the rest of my life. Famous or not. Professional footballer or not. Money or not. And currently, it felt like he was mine again. But zoning back into reality, I began to question how long this peace and affection would last for. It was so bitter-sweet, knowing that I had him back for a while, but he might not stick around, leaving me heartbroken all over again.

I watched as he intertwined his fingers with my own, gently rubbing my thumb with his. I tried not to let any tears fall from my now welled up eyes, but still sniffled quietly. Knowing my heart was still so conflicted, Mase brought his left hand up to my head and pulled me in further so he could kiss the top of it. Looking out the window I had been looking at, his lips remained in this position until it was time to get out once we had reached our destination.

After parting ways with the black cab, Mason and I were now standing at the front door of his massive, expensive house. The empty pit feeling in my stomach had resurfaced. This was how he lived now? I mean, I knew he did, but seeing it with my own eyes was so overwhelming. I just couldn’t imagine my childhood best friend, the little boy down the road who was always jokingly hitting me with his football because he liked me, having this lifestyle. How would anyone remain humble let alone the most humble man I had ever met? It baffled me.

Unlocking the door with his key and flicking the light switch nearest on the wall, he motioned for me to step inside, as I clutched his jacket against me. I gawped as I viewed the inside of his home. The most amazing marbled staircase was the first thing to catch my eye, after that a crystal chandelier and beautifully intricate wallpaper leading to high ceilings. It looked like something out of a movie. Everything so elegant and fascinating. But how was this all his? Of course it made me unbelievably proud seeing him do so well from a career of doing what he loved, but it also made me extremely emotional. This wasn’t the Mason I knew six years ago, let alone before that. Once he had closed the door behind him, he came to my side and saw my face in shock.

“Mase I-.. I don’t know what to say..” I commented, still examining the front lobby. It almost reminded me of a hotel.

“Soph, I know this is probably a lot for you. Believe me it was a lot for me too. But please don’t feel intimidated by all of this. I’m still the same person.” He voiced in a soft tone.

Turning my head to look at him again, I questioned his statement. “Are you though Mase? I mean I don’t think I would be if this was how I was living, never-mind you..” my voice trembled as I lightly shrugged before warm liquid started spilling down my cheeks from my eyes. “Like, they say money and fame doesn’t change a person but.. this? This is crazy, how could it not?..” Bowing his head to look at his feet, he sighed and closed his eyes. There was a minute or two of utter silence, until he finally broke it. “Come on.” He whispered, nodding his head towards the stairs “I want to show you something.”

Following him up the stairs to the second level of his home, we made our way into his bedroom. Now inside, I sat on the edge off his bed, as he went to the locker the other side of it. He had grabbed something and came back around to meet me, now placing himself beside me. The expression on his face was blank and impassive. Taking my hand and extending it out towards him, he put his own above it.

“Close your eyes Soph.” he mumbled. I did as I had been told, and shut my eyes, now only seeing colourful swirls in darkness. I took a deep breathe as he placed what was in his grasp into mine, my face still puffy and red from crying.

“Okay open.” He said nervously. I gazed at his eyes before looking down at the contents of my palm. My heart dropped. Now in my hold was the handmade bracelet I had made him when I was nine years old, the beads in the centre spelling out the word ‘Mase’ with the number ‘10’, the date of his birthday and the first number he ever wore for England in 2015. He still had it after all this time. Bringing my hand up to my mouth, my eyes met his again. I was lost for words. Tears were now spilling fully down both of faces.

“I lost you in the past Sophie, through no ones fault but my own. But even though I didn’t still have you physically, keeping that with me throughout the years made it feel like I still had a part of you no matter where in the world I went. You were my piece of home. This reminder of you, it’s what’s kept me humble and constant.” He sniffled.

“Why did you lose me Mase?” I asked, realising it was now or never he told me the truth. He looked up at the ceiling and bit his tongue before he eventually started to explain. I felt sick. But I needed to know.

“Look I never ever meant to hurt you Soph. I promise you. I just.. I didn’t tell you I was leaving because honestly I didn’t know how to. And I know you’re going to say ‘don’t be stupid’ or whatever but it’s the truth. I was scared, disappointed and heartbroken myself. Saying goodbye wasn’t just something I didn’t know how to do, it was something I didn’t want to do, so I didn’t. I just left. That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you, I did, more than you will ever know. But ultimately I knew if I told you, you would have wanted to come with me. And I couldn’t be selfish and take you away from your life here. From Uni, from your family. I refused to. I didn’t know how long I was going to be gone for either, so I couldn’t have you still waiting around for me. I only wanted the best for you. To get on with your own new chapter.” he blurted out. “Listen Soph, remember that old movie with Simon Pegg we used to love, y’know ‘Run Fatboy Run’?”

Nodding, he continued. “Well, there’s a quote from it that’s stuck with me to this day, from the bit where Dennis tells his ex-fiancé the reason he left her at the alter. It’s something like ‘I just thought spoiling your day was better than ruining your life”. And I know it’s a different circumstance, but the principle is the same. That’s exactly how I felt Sophie. I didn’t want to ruin your life by having you put it on hold for mine. For my career.” He cried.

“You still could say goodbye Mase.. you were still my best friend.. and what about telling everyone I broke up with you?..” I trailed off, my heart in the same broken pieces it had been the day he left all those years ago.

“I know, I should have said it. But how do you go back to having a friendship with someone you’re in love with? Talking to them everyday from the other side of ocean knowing that the only place you want to be is with them, having them in your arms and kissing them? And what if you moved on? I thought it would have killed me more to see you with somebody else knowing it should be me than to not have you in my life at all. But I realise now that that was the biggest mistake I ever could have made. As for telling everyone you broke up with me, I just didn’t want to seem like the dickhead. But I still ended up feeling like one so..”

I placed my attention on fingers, now fumbling around with the piece of childish jewellery in them. Sighing, I replied. “Yeah well, you should have known I was never going to move on Mase. You are the only one I’ve ever loved, and I think maybe the one one I’m ever going to love in the future..” I sobbed.

Placing a finger of his own under my chin and lifting it up to meet him, he gazed into my eyes, both of us just as lonely without the other.

“Sophie Elizabeth Fraser, you are the only I’m ever going to love. If it’s not you, it’s not anyone.” he glanced down at my lips then back up at me.

“Then why didn’t you contact me sooner Mase? Six years of both of us still loving each other that we could have spent together. We let them pass us by just like that.”

“Because you looked happier without me and even if you weren’t, I still thought you’d never ever forgive me.” he responded. “Look Soph, I’ve made a lot of mistakes so far in my lifetime but loving you has never been and never will be one of them. Without you, there’s always going to be a part of me missing, and I never ever want to lose you again.”

Not knowing how to respond once again, Mason gulped and took his opportunity to try close the distance between us. Asking for permission with his eyes, I agreed and before I knew it, his lips were on my own for the first time in forever, chemicals releasing, a rush coming over us both. It honestly felt like sparks were flying. It’s strange, how a person you haven’t seen or touched in six whole years can feel more like home than any other person or place in the world ever could.

As the kiss started to intensify, I broke us apart for a split second, to make a little comment. “Oh and just for the record, I still haven’t forgiven you..” I smiled and giggled through tears, gaining an eye roll and chuckle from him.

“My god Sophie, just shut up and kiss me..” he smirked back before reconnecting our lips together. Yup, I was definitely home.

[spacexcowgirl]

Don’t Go Wasting Your Emotion - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N enters a fwb relationship with Fred, only to realize she’s going to have a lot more trouble keeping things platonic than she thought.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Smut, Oral (male receiving), masturbation, light hair pulling, exhibitionism (sort of? I mean they do it in a public bathroom so yeah), unprotected sex, possessive talk, swearing, brief alcohol mention. pretty angsty throughout but it ends fluffy so.

A/N: I’m obsessed with the fwb trope and wanted to see if I could write a smut, so here we are. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, and let me know if I missed any warnings! Pictures are from Pinterest. (Also, I know this is a repost. Let’s see if the tags actually wanna work this time :) )

You watched as Fred’s grip on his glass tightened, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as his eyes remained trained on the dance floor. You couldn’t allow yourself to follow his gaze, because you knew what you would see, and you knew it would break your heart. Angelina was there, and she was dancing closely to some guy that wasn’t Fred. Judging by his change in demeanor, he wasn’t as over their breakup as he had claimed.

You hated seeing him like this, for reasons beyond the fact that you were his best friend. It was selfish, sure, but part of the reason why you were so bothered was because you knew he would never be so jealous over you. And that stung.

It had been three months since him and Angelina had split. In those three months, Fred had vehemently claimed that he was fine, that their breakup was mutual, and that he hardly even thought about her anymore. Now, judging by the way he hadn’t uttered more than two words since she waltzed in, you and George could confirm what you already knew; he was lying. When it came to their emotions, its what the Weasley boys did best. Conceal as long as possible, before ultimately blowing up. Evidently, that blow up was about to come tonight.

“Maybe we should just go?” You placed a delicate hand on Fred’s shoulder. The action tore his gaze from Angelina for just a moment, then his eyes were back on her.

“No, no. I’m fine.” He lied through gritted teeth. “We came out tonight to have fun, so, let’s have fun.”

With that, he downed the rest of the drink in his glass and took your hand, guiding you out on the dance floor. You glanced back, just momentarily, and caught George’s worried gaze. Fred most certainly was not fine, but you could also tell that George’s worry extended to you. He knew you were one longing glance away from falling point-of-no-return in love with his brother, and that scared him. Almost as much as it scared you.

Once you and Fred had infiltrated the crowd of people, his hands were on your hips, but he couldn’t meet your eyes. So, to save yourself just a little bit of heartache, you turned in his grasp so your bum was pressed to his front. In this position, you didn’t have to face him blatantly staring at another girl. You closed your eyes and moved your hips to the music, letting yourself just for a moment get lost in the feeling of his big hands guiding your hips. For a little while, you could shut out reality and simply pretend it was just the two of you, and that he wasn’t desperately wishing you were someone else.

The feeling of his warm breath against your neck shook you back to the present, causing you to instinctively crane your neck to give him further access. His lips ghosted a line there, sending goosebumps alive in their path. They traced their way up to your ear, giving a gentle nip to your lobe before he spoke.

“It’s working, she keeps looking over here.” He whispered in a low voice. 

You simply hummed in response, continuing the grinding of your bum against his hips. Truthfully, you didn’t care whether she was looking or not, but of course you couldn’t say that. So, silence sufficed.

This is what your relationship had morphed into in the months since his breakup. What had started as a completely innocent, and drunken, conversation between friends about how it should be criminal how long you had gone without getting laid, had somehow turned into this murky friends with benefits relationship you were now in. Neither of you tried to hide the fact that you would occasionally sleep together from George or other peers, which was why your current grinding appeared normal to him, but you both always made it clear you were still just friends.

So, when Fred had a long day at work, there you were, your mouth showing him in more ways than one how to relax. When George and him got into a fight, although it was rare, you were there as a thing for him to ruin, to take all of his frustrations out on. Basically just about any mood he could possibly be in, you were there to make it even better.

That’s not to say you got nothing out of the arrangement, though. Fred was there for you, too. After those awful long days that seemed never ending, when you were too in your head over an upcoming work project, when you just needed to relax a little. Fred Weasley could make you cum so hard you’d forget anything wrong in your life, including the extremely unfortunate feelings you harbored for him. Even if it was just momentarily.

Not to mention, if having Fred in your bed was the closest you’d get to truly being with him, then you’d take it. Because as you lay pinned beneath him, your name leaving his lips like a prayer, you could feel like the only girl in his world. And that feeling breathed life into you like nothing else could.

So, now, here you were, pressed up against the man who held the power to break your heart if he so chose, but who also had no idea. It seemed Fred truly thought what you had was just fun between friends. Another reason you couldn’t fault him.

“Oh, fuck.” Fred groaned worriedly into your neck before straightening up. His words and the sudden space he had now put between the two of you caused you to furrow your brows, until he spoke again. “She’s coming over.”

Fred and you had already been somewhat on the outskirts of the dance floor, which meant Angelina and the man she had entered with had to pass you to get to the bar. Of course, they wouldn’t just walk by without saying anything. Angelina had always been a sweetheart, and Fred and her had ended somewhat amicably, so it was no wonder she was now approaching with a bright smile on her face.

“Freddie! Y/N/N!” She quickly enveloped you in a hug, causing her familiar floral perfume to fill your nose. Godric, could she get any more perfect?

“I feel like it’s been ages.” Next she was hugging Fred, and although he was stiff, Angelina was nothing but friendly and carried on as if she didn’t even notice. When she pulled back, she gestured to the man who she had approached with. “This is Stephen. He’s my uh…” She seemed to falter for a moment, her eyes flicking guiltily to Fred before she continued. “My boyfriend.”

You didn’t have to look up at Fred to know his jaw was clenched, now for more reasons than one. Thinking back to when Fred and her were still together, you had heard him complain on more than one occasion about a ‘Stephen’ that she worked with. Even though she had told him that he was no one to worry about, perhaps Fred had a right to be so jealous.

There was a tense moment of silence, all four of you internally gauging the situation and where to take things from there. Angelina was the first to clear her throat and gesture between both you and Fred.

“So, uh, I hadn’t heard that you two were together.” Her eyes fell to yours, a genuine smile gracing her lips. “You know, I always thought you guys would make a cute couple. I mean, even before…” Her words trailed off, careful not to breach the subject of her failed relationship with Fred. 

To save her from an awkward ramble, you decided to speak up. A sheepish look crossed your features as you prepared yourself for the ever-uncomfortable ‘actually, we’re not together, we’re just screwing’ talk.

“Well, we’re not really—”

“Not really sure why we hadn’t gotten together sooner.” Fred cut you off, his arm snaking around your waist although his eyes never left Angelina’s.

Your eyes grew wide at his words, your heart speeding up. Of course, you knew what he was doing. He was Fred Weasley for Godric’s sake, and he’d rather be dead than admit to his happily-moved on ex-girlfriend that he was still alone. Still, the thought of truly being with him crossed your mind, like it did more often than you’d like to admit, and you couldn’t help but feel butterflies.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy.” You could tell she meant it. With that, she let her hand drop and intertwine with Stephen’s before shooting the two of you one last smile and hauling him towards the bar.

Fred’s grip on your waist had grown even tighter and you found yourself wondering if he even realized it. His breath was ragged and shallow, and when you looked up at his face you found that his eyes were squeezed shut. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to discern if Fred needed his best friend or his fuck buddy right now. Ultimately, you decided he probably needed a little bit of both.

“Why don’t you stop torturing yourself and we finally get out of here?” You pleaded.

“I’ve got a better idea.”

And before you could ask what, exactly, that meant, he was firmly grasping your wrist and hauling you to the women’s bathroom. It wasn’t a very big room, and half of you wondered if the lock on the door even properly worked, based solely on how old it looked. You didn’t have a lot of time to worry, though, before Fred’s lips were pressed against yours and he was pushing you against the porcelain sink.

You moaned into his mouth at the desperation in his actions, your hands quickly finding the base of his neck and tangling in the hairs there. In an instant, he had you hoisted onto the cool white fixture and was stood between your legs, peppering wet, open mouthed kisses down your jaw. You threw your head back, arching your chest towards him, and let out a moan as he began to suck at the soft skin below your ear.

He had quickly taken things into his own hands, as he often did, but you knew that wasn’t exactly what he needed right now. You pulled your head away, halting the kisses he had been planting to your neck, and placed your hands on his shoulders. His brows were furrowed as he looked at you, but as you gently pushed him back and hopped down from the sink, only to sink to your knees, he couldn’t help but grin in anticipation.

You fiddled with his belt buckle, undoing it as quickly as you could before unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper. You wasted no time teasing him, but rather pulled down his trousers and boxers in one go, suddenly eye level with his hard cock.

Your hand wrapped around his length, beginning to stroke him in the way that had grown so familiar to you. He tilted his head back and let out a groan at your slow pace, which only encouraged you further. The second that his eyes were back on you, you leaned in slightly and kitten licked the tip, maintaining the most innocent look you possibly could. Then, you opened your mouth and swallowed him down, keeping your hand on his base to work on the extra length you can’t fit. You felt Fred gather your hair into a ponytail, gently guiding your motions against him. He hardly had to do any work, you already knew how to please him so well.

“Fuck, yes,” Fred sighed, his eyes glued to the image of his cock disappearing between your lips. Knowing that he’s watching you, you gazed up at him through your lashes and hollowed out your cheeks, your hand twisting up and down as you sucked on his sensitive tip. “Play with yourself, princess. Get yourself ready for me.”

While in any other situation you may have shot a quip at him about being a lazy git, right now you knew that realistically you two simply didn’t have very much time. What you were doing was risky, and it was Fred who needed to relieve some tension, so you’d have to be resigned to doing all of the work. Besides, sucking Fred off while he looked at you like that and moaned so beautifully turned you on to no end, so you supposed you really shouldn’t be complaining.

Your free hand snaked down and dipped beneath the waist band of your leggings, quickly pushing aside your panties and beginning to dip into your wet folds. You let out a moan against Fred’s cock, the vibration causing him to groan lowly.

This only lasted about a minute, before the reality set in that you just were not a very good multitasker. It was nearly impossible for you to keep up with sucking and wanking him off while simultaneously focusing on your own pleasure. So you resigned to pulling your lips off completely and catching your breath, allowing one hand to continue working on your own pleasure while the other twisted up and down his cock, pausing every few moments to swipe your thumb over the sensitive head.

Fred’s hips bucked involuntarily in your grip from the contact. Then he was grasping your wrist and halting your actions, hoisting you up to a standing position by your elbow. He pulled you into one final, passionate kiss, before he was spinning you around and bending you over the sink. He folded himself over your body, intent on whispering into your ear.

“I want you loud,” He grumbled against your neck, placing a rough kiss there. One of his hands was now wrapped around you and kneading at your breast through your top, while the other had rested on your hip. “I want everyone in this whole bloody pub to hear you screaming my name.”

You knew what he really meant was he wanted Angelina to hear you screaming his name, but his hands were now yanking your leggings and panties down to your ankles, so your brain could hardly focus on anything else. You let out a breathy, quiet, moan as you felt him rub the head of his cock against your wet folds. His response was instantaneous as he pulled away from you completely, eyes narrowed.

“What did I say, princess?” His stroked himself lazily, pointedly busying himself with everything but touching you. 

“Please, Fred.” You simply whined. You always were slightly embarrassed by how desperate you were for him.

“I said,” He ignored your pleas, taking a step closer to you once again. “I want you loud. Honestly, if you can’t listen, you can just go back to having that pretty mouth of yours suck my cock, and you can worry about getting yourself off later.”

You let out a whimper at that, eyes meeting his in the mirror. You wouldn’t put it past him to tease you like that, so you knew you had to play your cards right to avoid it. 

“Think you can listen? Think you can be good?”

“Yes,” You breathed out, your hands gripping the side of the sink tightly. “I’ll be good.” 

That was all the confirmation he needed before pushing into you. A strangled moan tore itself from your lips, and you couldn’t help but shiver from the look Fred was giving you in the mirror. Once his hips were flush against your bum, he threw his head back and groaned.

“So fucking tight.” Fred gritted. “Always so tight… For me… All for me, yeah?”

“Yes, Freddie.” You moaned out, your eyes flying shut as he began to set a steady pace. Seeing your eyes close caused him to tangled one of his hands in your hair and give it a gentle tug, pulling your head up and arching your back further. The new angle allowed for him to hit at a deeper spot inside of you, causing you both to moan out.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” He urged, the sound of his ragged pants mixing with the sound of his hips snapping against your bum. “Say my name, princess.”

The question caught you entirely off guard. Obviously, Fred and you always talked to each other quite differently during sex than during your everyday friendship. Still, this was uncharted territory. Because no part of you did belong to him, no matter how much you longed for it to be so. You couldn’t think on the meaning behind it for too long, though, because as he landed another harsh thrust into you, your mind was cleared of everything but your own pleasure.

“You, Freddie.” You moaned loudly. “All yours.”

“That’s right.” Fred slid the hand that had been resting on your hip around to find your clit, rubbing small circles against it in time with his thrusts. The hand that had been tangled in your hair grabbed your arm and pressed your palm flat against the mirror. He slotted his fingers against your, folding himself further over you as his thrusts began to grow sloppy. “Come on, I need you to cum for me, princess. Need you to say my name.” 

His words sent you over the edge, his name leaving your mouth in nearly incoherent babbles. He continued to lightly rub your clit, rocking you through your orgasm with a few light kisses to your neck, before he snapped his hips into yours one last time, burying himself fully before halting. He had finished inside you, leaving you now both panting as you came down from your highs.

Fred placed a soft kiss to your shoulder before dropping the hand he had pinning you to the mirror and slowly pulled himself out. You whined at the empty feeling, causing him to lowly chuckle from behind you.

Now that your brain was slowly beginning to function properly again, you could think of nothing but the way he had so brazenly claimed you as his. Since when had that become a thing? Your heart was fluttering in your chest at the idea of being his, truly, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you decided to speak up.

“Freddie?” 

He looked up at you in the mirror, having just grabbed his wand and begun to perform a cleaning spell on you. His eyes were soft and kind, a stark contrast to the angry, jealous man you had seen earlier in the night, and it only endeared you further.

“Hm?”

“What you said…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling very stupid. But, you had come too far, and it felt too late to back now. “About, um, belonging, to you… uh…”

“Got a little carried away there, didn’t I?” He chuckled sheepishly, ducking his head down as he finished cleaning you up. You bent down slightly and tugged up your panties and leggings before turning to face him, finding him doing up his zipper. “Guess seeing Angie here with that prat made me feel a little possessive. Did it make you uncomfortable?” The genuine concern lacing his voice nearly made you weak.

“No.” You shook your head, a small smile on your face. The kind of smile you give someone when you’re at the very seams of falling apart, but you’re doing everything in your power to keep it together. Of course, as he had been so vocally claiming you, his motive had been her. You could feel the beginning of tears welling up in your eyes, but you knew you couldn’t let them fall in front of Fred, so you quickly turned back around and gripped the sides of the sink.

“Then what’s wrong?” Fred’s hand was now on your shoulder, urging you to turn towards him. But you knew, one look at him and you’d be done for.

Your mind was racing as you tried to think of your best way out of this situation, the way to walk away without pouring your heart out and ruining this friendship. But, then, you kept hearing him tell Angelina that you were a couple, or the way he claimed you moments before, play over and over again in your head. It was the soundtrack to your heartbreak, and you had no way to turn down the volume.

“I really just want to be alone, Fred.” Was all you could muster, your voice shaking and making you cringe.

“Obviously I did something wrong.” Fred drew his hand back, but he made no motion to leave. “So just tell me what I did and we can fix it sooner rather than later.”

“There’s nothing to fix.” You spun back around, so vehemently ready to deny anything being wrong and send him away. But then you were looking into those soft brown eyes and your heart was breaking just a little bit more and you couldn’t help but let the tears fall. “Oh, for fucks sake.” You scolded yourself lightly, beginning to wipe the tears that had fallen.

“Hey, hey,” Fred cooed with open arms, ready to pull you into a hug and help in any way he could. Even if he didn’t completely understand what was going on, he hated to see you hurting.

You held out a stiff arm to keep him away, your other hand still uselessly trying to stop your tears.

A banging at the door and a muffled voice shouting ‘Hurry up in there!’ was the first thing to pull Fred’s attention from you. He had shouted back a quick ‘just a second!’ which you had barely even registered before you were apparating away from the confined space and back to the peaceful emptiness of your flat. There, you could collapse on the floor and cry about just how foolish you’d been to think this was ever a good idea in the first place.

-

Fred had been shocked and mildly upset when he turned around and you were nowhere to be found, but then wrote it off as your way of escaping the bathroom without people having to know what you had been doing in there. When he exited the bathroom and found George, alone, a few minutes later, he was remarkably more confused. Had you really left the pub as a whole? Without saying so much as a goodbye?

Still, Fred resigned to give you your space. He had seen how upset you were, and how reluctant you’d been to wrap up in his arms—which was typically your favorite place to be when you were upset—and decided maybe you really just did need to be alone. If you wanted space, space is what Fred would give you. In reason, of course.

So, when a week had passed with no word from you, Fred was growing remarkably more distraught. The two of you had never willingly gone this long without speaking, and no matter how much Fred tried to reach out, he never got anything in return but silence. Your absence was weighing on him, and he couldn’t help but rack his brain helplessly trying to decipher what exactly he had done wrong.

“Still no reply,” Fred sighed as he thumbed through the last of the mail he and George had been delivered that morning.

“Hm? Oh, Y/N, right.” George had glanced up from his stack of paperwork briefly, before returning his focus on his work. Fred narrowed his eyes at his brother, suddenly very aware of his uninterested response. Fred was a nervous wreck worrying about your disappearances, yet George sat uncharacteristically calm and unbothered.

“You’ve heard from her, haven’t you?” The realization hit Fred all at once, suddenly making him feel sick.

“Well, I mean, yeah.” George set down his quill, finally giving his brother his full attention.

“And you didn’t think to say anything?” Fred nearly screamed, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“You didn’t ask.” George rolled his eyes. “She’s fine, by the way. Just doesn’t…”

“Just doesn’t want to talk to me, right?” Fred scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “For Merlin’s sake, I don’t even know what I did!”

“Isn’t my place to say.” George shrugged. “Although, what I can say, and what may or may not have any relation to Y/N, is you are the blindest, daftest, git I’ve ever met.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m really going to have to spell it out, aren’t I?” George sighed, beginning to rub his face with his hands. “Alright, if I must. Let’s play a little game, shall we? I ask a question, you give a simple yes or no answer. Nothing else. Got it?”

“Yes, but—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” George wiggled his finger, effectively cutting his brother off. “Alright, now, first question. Have you slept with anyone besides Y/N since you broke up with Angelina?”

“No.” Fred furrowed his brows. “But I don’t get—” This time, he abruptly cut himself off when George shot him a stern look.

“Next question. If you had to guess, has Y/N slept with anyone else since you two started your little… Arrangement?”

“No.”

“Okay, now. Think back to last week, were you actually jealous because Angelina was there with some guy, or was it because she was there specifically with the guy you had been insecure about, and it brought up all those old feelings?”

“I— That’s not a yes or no question!”

“Right, sorry.” George chuckled. “I’ll rephrase; Were you actually just upset and insecure about the specific guy Angelina was with?”

“Yes.” Fred’s voice was softer now.

“Final ones, really hoping this ties it all together for you.” George leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk as he gazed at his brother. “Little jump back to question two; If Y/N did sleep with someone else since you started would that make you jealous?”

The room was quiet as Fred clenched his jaw. He hated that George knew him and his emotions so well, because it was impossible to hide from them when he was around. After a moment, he stared down at his shoes and simply nodded.

“And, would you say, it would make you more jealous than when you thought you were jealous about Angie?”

Comparing the two jealousies felt pointless to Fred, what he felt last week at the pub wouldn’t even be in the same ballpark as what he would feel if he found out you had slept with someone else. You had always been his person, someone who had been there for him even when he was a stupid teenage boy. You were the only one he’d ever venture to say knew him almost as well as George. He had always written off the tinges of jealousy he felt when other guys flirted with you as the general protectiveness of a best friend, but was what George was insinuating the real explanation? Did he actually just have feelings for you?

“Yeah, it would make me more jealous.” Fred sighed frustratedly. “So what, okay? So maybe I’ve started to have feelings for her. You helping me realize that doesn’t exactly help with the fact that she won’t talk to me.”

“Why don’t you stop by her flat and tell her exactly what you just realized, and tell me if it doesn’t help?” With that, George gathered the last of his paperwork and headed up the stairs to their flat without another word.

-

After a week of working every morning and crashing on your couch every night, watching every sad movie you could find, it was safe to say you were out of tears. Truthfully, now you were just exhausted. It still hurt, but you didn’t have the energy to think about it constantly anymore. For that, you were surprisingly thankful.

So when you heard a knock on your door that Saturday night, you weren’t sure what you had been expecting. You vaguely knew in the back of your mind that it could be Hermione checking in and dropping off food, as she had a few times throughout the week, or maybe George coming in hopes of cheering you up. What you hadn’t expected, though, was the frantic face of Fred, yet that’s exactly what you found.

“I’m sorry to just show up like this, I know it’s kind of late, but you left me no choice.” He pleaded softly. The worried look on his face and the bags under his eyes caused a pool of guilt to form in your stomach, so before you could really think about it, you opened the door further and gestured for him to come in.

You both made your way into your living room, each finding a place on opposite ends of your couch. For a few moments, neither of you spoke. Fred nervously ran his hands up and down his thighs, while you wrung your hands repeatedly. Neither of you could seem to look at each other.

“Look I’m—”

“George said—”

Both of you had gone to speak at the same time, causing you to both cut off abruptly. Your eyes found each other for the first time and within seconds a smile was lighting up each of your faces, light laughter bursting from your lips.

“You go ahead.” You offered, the small smile still on your lips despite the pain in your heart. Fred seemed to draw in a deep breath, seeming uncharacteristically nervous. Your stomach flipped at the potential list of things that could come out of his mouth.

“I think I’m starting to fall for you.”

Well, that certainly hadn’t been on your list.

“You… You what?” You questioned, desperate for clarification. Desperate to have him repeat it.

“I said, I think I’m starting to fall for you.” He repeated, the look in his eyes so genuine you nearly trembled. “And I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, and I still don’t know why, but this is my way of saying I can’t lose you. Even if you don’t feel the same way—”

“What about Angelina?” Your voice was soft, unbelieving that this could ever be your reality.

“What about her?” Fred cocked his head to the side. Suddenly, how upset you got the week before all made sense to him, and he realized George was right. He was a daft git. “Y/N…” He trailed off, his heart suddenly hurting from the pain he’d caused you. “I’ve been such an arse, haven’t I? I used you to make her jealous, and what I said… Oh, fuck.”

You stared down at your hands in your lap. You hated reliving that night again, but some part of you was happy that at least now he had caught on.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He leaned forward and gently rested his hand on your cheek, coaxing you to look at him. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t care about her like that anymore, I mean it, okay? It just sucked seeing her there with the one guy I had always worried about.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He nodded. “Godric, I’ve probably been falling for you my whole life and just been too blind to see it.” His thumb lightly traced your cheekbone, causing your eyes to flutter close. “And even if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. Because I’m still sorry, and I’ll still do any—”

His words were cut off by you nearly throwing yourself towards him, your lips hurriedly find his. Although he seemed shocked at first, he quickly melted into the familiar feeling of your lips on his, and his hand moved down to cup your jaw. Butterflies were fully alive in your stomach, and for the first time you didn’t have the urge to squash them. This felt like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. After a moment, he pulled back and searched your eyes.

“Was that your way of telling me you feel the same way?” He grinned. “Because, for us, kissing your friend is normal. So I don’t know what that means—”

“Yes, you big idiot.” You teased, although you held nothing but love in your eyes. “I feel the same way.”

Now, he really was unsure why you hadn’t gotten together sooner.

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

True Mate- part 2

Here you are! The much requested 2nd part to True Mate! *Familiar Characters are NOT mine!*

Fandom: Twilight(New Moon mostly)

Warnings: Angst! Mentions of Edward’s inner turmoil, “death”?, A little but of fluff. A bit longer than part 1. 

Pairings/Characters: Edward Cullen x vampire!reader, Volturi Kings, Volturi Elite Guard, Alice Cullen, Bella Swan, The rest of the Olympic Coven. 

Edward didn't notice Bella until she was practically throwing herself at him. He was waiting outside, still hidden from the sun while he waited for his mate to feed. He caught her easily and gaped. "Bella?" She hugged him close, practically clawing at his back and the nape of his neck. Her scent nearly overpowered him. It had been so long since he'd smelled it. He pulled back. "You're alive?"

         "Yes. I'm alive. You don't have to do this." Edward's brows furrowed. "Do what?" Bella gestured to him. "Kill yourself. Alice told me that's what you planned on doing." It took everything in him not to chuckle. Alice must have stopped watching for his future. Either that or hadn't told Bella everything.

         Before he could answer, another voice spoke up. "Cullen, the masters want to see you. Now." Demetri's red eyes swung over to Bella. Bella grabbed onto Edward's arm, nails digging into the flesh. Even if he could, he didn't have to read her mind to know she was afraid. This was going to make things that much more difficult. Alice appeared at his shoulder as well with Felix at her side.

         "This isn't necessary. We'll come with you," Edward stated calmly, hoping to convey that he had no intention of disobeying. Not now. He followed after Felix and Demetri, making sure Alice was with them as well. Bella still clung to his arm. The scent was driving him insane once again. He needed to get away from her before he did something he'd regret. He listened to Alice's mind and Bella's questions, answering without really thinking. He was too busy trying to remember to hold his breath. He was saved from his thoughts, however, when their small group approached the throne room doors.

         Bella didn't let go of his arm when the eyes of all three of the masters landed on them. "Look, Brothers! It seems Isabella is alive after all!" Aro cried with a gleeful clap of his hands, "I do love happy endings. They are so rare." Edward gave Aro a tight smile, but his eyes searched the room for you as he hoped Bella would finally let go before you appeared. It would not end well for Bella if she didn't.

         "And Alice is here too," Aro continued. As Edward opened his mouth to ask the leaders to let Alice and Bella go, that sense of peace washed over him again. He fought back a smile when you entered the room. Your eyes met his and you graced him with an upturn of your lips. At least until you saw Bella clinging to your mate like a toddler.

         Your eyes turned dark and your teeth gnashed together. In an instant, Felix was in front of you, holding you back. Bella flinched. "Oh my. Perhaps, dear Isabella, you would be kind enough to remove your hands from young Edward. You seem to be upsetting Y/N." Bella stared dumbly at him, prompting you to growl out, "Remove your hands from my mate." In your fury, Edward couldn't help but stare. You were beautiful. Glorious. Never before had Edward's inner monster been so at peace knowing there was someone who would give everything for him, even with Bella's intoxicating fragrance invading his senses.

         "Mate? You aren't his mate." Edward closed his eyes at Bella's audacity. Even Alice winced a bit. She knew the difference between singers and true mates. She gently removed Bella's hands from Edward, who instantly appeared at your side, whispering soothing words in your ear. You calmed a bit, but your red eyes never left Bella. You were furious, your own inner beast threatening to claw its way out and destroy the person who dared to try and claim your mate.

         "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Isabella. See, you are Edward's blood singer. Your blood calls to him. It urges him to give into his true nature. I am surprised you've survived this long. Just remembering how you smell to him…makes me thirsty," Aro stated before clearing his throat and continuing, "But Y/N is Edward's true mate. The part of him that makes him feel whole."

         Bella blinked and flicked her gaze between Aro and you and Edward. You had calmed considerably with Edward at your side. Your thoughts were becoming clear again to the mind reader. "This? This is who he tried to destroy himself over? Sure, I guess she's pretty enough and her blood, oh that smells good, but she's a mouse. A mouse playing at lion." You glanced at Edward and smiled as you apologized to him in your mind. You spoke again to Felix who was still extremely close. "You can relax now, Felix. I'm fine," you said before cutting your glare back to Bella.

         "I am his mate," you told her through clenched teeth as Edward ran his nose along your cheek. It was taking all his will power to stay by your side. Bella's scent mixed with yours had the monster he had hoped would stay locked away pleading to drain the human of her blood, much as it when he'd first met her.

         Bella tried to argue, but the leaders weren't having it as Aro questioned what to do. Not that Edward heard much other than the dozens of thoughts invading his head. You placed a calming hand on his cheek, soothing him. Only then did Edward tune back into the conversation. "Edward, you should go." He blinked in surprise.

         "My father and uncles are going to rule that Isabella must be turned or killed. I know her blood is calling to you and I would never want you to do something you're uncomfortable with. I know you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you hurt the human you've been fighting so hard to protect. So go. I'll find you after I feed."  Edward nodded stiffly. He didn't want to leave your side, but he knew you were right. He would regret it if he drained Bella now. So, he followed after Bella and Alice until you were finished.

         No sooner were the three alone did Bella round on Edward. "How could you do this?!" she asked, nearly shrieking at him. Alice held her arm to prevent her from getting too close to Edward. "That thing is a monster! Not your mate!" Edward growled as he used every ounce of self control not to launch himself at Bella.    

         "Bella, stop," Alice pleaded before turning her eyes to Edward, "This is what happened in my vision. I'm sorry, Edward. I didn't know they were your mate or we wouldn't have come." Edward arched a brow. Alice replayed her vision for him in her mind and he sighed. He understood why she had, but she hadn't needed to bring Bella.

         "This is ridiculous. Edward, come back to Forks with us. You belong with your family. With me. Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that why you came here to have them destroy you? Because of me? Well, I'm alive. You don't have to change for me. You will for that…Y/N person." The sound of your name from her lips made Edward's whole body stiffen. He didn't like the venom in her tone.

         Bella attempted to come closer and put a hand on his cheek. Once more, her scent filled his senses and he backed away. "Bella, I wouldn't. Please, just listen to me. Edward isn't as in control as he usually is. To his true nature, you are a threat to his mate. If you keep pushing, it will not end well. Please."

         Edward was thankful for Alice's intervention. She was at least trying. It didn't stop anything though. When the doors opened to reveal you alongside Felix and Demetri once more, Bella's hand was still outstretched toward Edward. Your eyes flickered to Edward for a brief second, assessing the situation before you sighed.

         "Isabella Swan, I would suggest you stop trying my patience. I have warned you once. Do not make me tell you again. Keep your hands off my mate." Since feeding, you were in a bit more control than before, but that didn't mean you had to like it. You flashed to Edward's side, enveloping him in the serenity he needed in that moment.

         "Edward, calm. The Masters have made their decision. Isabella is to be turned within a year or she will be killed. No exceptions. I will personally be going to Forks at a later date to see that their orders are followed." You cut your eyes back to Bella and Alice. "Miss Cullen, I suggest you sit between these two on your way home."

         "Home?" Edward asked. You faced him again and nodded. "Yes. Home. You need to at least talk to your family about this. About us. They will understand, but it would be unfair to them to say nothing." Edward reluctantly nodded. He didn't want to be apart from you, but knew you were right.

         "Come with me?" You laughed slightly but before you could reply, Bella stupidly piped up. "I don't think that's a good idea." You swung your eyes to her once more, making her shrink back a bit for once. "I-I mean, you don't want to put those innocent people at risk."

         "I assure you that I am in control. However, I have duties here." Bella scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Control? You nearly killed me." You arched a brow, unimpressed by her little tantrum. "Believe me, Miss Swan, if I truly wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. Now, you are testing my already limited patience. I suggest you close that obnoxious mouth of yours before I do it for you, my father's ruling be damned."

         Felix and Demetri snickered, prompting Bella into a fit of anger. "See? Do you see how easily they talk about killing innocent people?! They are monsters, Edward! All of them!" Felix and Demetri stiffened but could do nothing but watch as you held Edward back. He had finally snapped.

         All those months of her blood calling to him. All that time, knowing that he could absolutely drain her dry and it would be the best meal he'd ever tasted. All the days of him pushing his self-control to the limit had finally done him in. His control over the monster that resided inside him was breaking at the thought of someone insulting his mate. Even Felix wouldn't be able to hold Edward back, so it was no surprise when Edward broke free of you and had his hand around Bella's throat.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 *one year later*

         Edward gripped your hand tightly as he opened the door to the house he'd once called home. To his surprise, he wasn't greeted by Carlisle, Esme, or one of his siblings. He felt you stiffen against him. "Hello," he greeted. Bella glared daggers at you, her own now topaz eyes filled with fire. Even now, though she understood the difference between singers and mates, she hated you for taking Edward.

         When Edward had finally snapped that day in Volterra, it had taken you, Demetri, Felix, and Alec to pry him away from Bella. Even then, it was too late. The process had already begun. Bella was turning and there would be no stopping it this time. Alice escorted out of Volterra after the change was complete. You hadn't seen them since.

         "What are you doing here?" she snapped. You arched a brow. "I've come to meet my future in-laws. Edward misses his family." She opened her mouth to protest, but Jasper appeared behind her with a rare smile on his face. Edward returned the grin and pulled his brother to him. The rest of the Cullens weren't far behind.

         After greeting Edward warmly, all the topaz eyes of the Olympic Coven turned to you. Esme was the first to greet you with a smile. "This is Y/N…my mate." The rest of the family began to greet you much in the same manner they had greeted their son/brother.

         Later on that night, Carlisle, Edward, and you retired to Carlisle's home office. For a moment, Carlisle said nothing and Edward did his best not to read his mind. Carlisle's eyes moved between you and Edward a few times before he finally spoke. "Are you happy? I mean…truly happy?" Edward smiled. "I am. For once, I really am. No torturous existence. I still feel the same, but happier and stronger. This was my decision. I promise." Carlisle nodded and expressed his approval. "That's all I ever wanted for you." Edward turned to you and smiled when your eyes met his newly red ones.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Tagging people who requested part 2: @lopezbr210 @a-bi-who-just-wants-sweaters @imdoingathingmom​ @kajikani​ @truly-insatiable​ @yrawn​ @vanteguccir​ 

[queenshelby]

A Friend with Benefits (One Shot)

31 Days of Kink: Day 26

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, FFM Threesome, Breeding Kink

Words: 2,365

Notes: Alright now. I am in a same sex relationship and this is my biggest fantasy. Here you go. I hope you enjoy.

***

You and Laura have been together for five years. You recently got married and purchased your first house together and, whilst you were extremely happy, there was one thing that had been missing in your lives. A baby!

You were well aware of the fact that you wouldn’t be able to make a baby without a man and it was on a Sunday afternoon that, over several drinks at the local pub, your close mutual friend Cillian had offered his help.

‘Let me know what clinic you are going to use and I will, you know, do what has to be done’ Cillian chuckled, causing you both to laugh.

‘You know, we could just fuck. It saves everyone the hassle of going through the artificial insemination and a lot of money too’ Laura smirked, causing Cillian to choke on his pint of Guinness.

‘You mean like me with the both of you?’ Cillian asked somewhat flustered and you both looked at each other and then nodded.

‘Yes. You are single, we are willing and you really need to get laid’ Laura observed as his last date with a woman he had met at an art exhibition didn’t go very well and Cillian admitted to you both that, the last time he had sex, was six months ago.

‘Hmm, I always wanted to have a threesome with two women’ Cillian admitted, flushing cheeks as he did.

‘Well then Cilly, let’s set a date then, shall we?’ you asked and he nodded eagerly.

***

Your soft feminine mouth was pressing against Laura's as her tongue caressed yours. You both felt a little awkward being watched by someone at first but when you heard Cillian's breath deepen with arousal at the sight of you kissing each other, you started to relax in to it.

Laura then wrapped her arms around you allowing one hand to drift down to the curve of your spine while you took Laura’s bottom lip between your teeth pulling at it gently before resuming the kiss deeply and passionately.

Soon the familiar flutters in your panties began and you both yearned for each other’s touch.

But, just as you hungrily pressed into the kiss, Laura pulled away and turned to Cillian and delivered the same intense kiss, parting his lips and pressing her tongue in to his mouth as you watched on.

Laura then gestured with her head that it was now time for you and Cillian to kiss. Without losing any time, you pulled Cillian towards you, sharing the kiss you had been craving for and it was at this point that he felt his cock swelling as the thoughts of being with both, you and Laura, intruded his mind.

All of you were so turned on that the kiss was animalistic as your tongues fervently danced around one another and you both grabbed at one another aggressively, not caring if you caused the other pain before Laura had yet another turn, doing the same.

As Laura was kissing Cillian, you stepped behind her, laying your hands on her slender waist. Slowly your fingers started creeping up Laura's ribcage closing in on her chest.

Your hands stopped short just as your index fingers reached the underside of Laura's breasts and your thumbs pressed against the sides. With featherweight movement you drew your thumbs across Laura's breasts lightly brushing against her nipples.

Laura had neglected to wear a bra that evening as she had intended to tease Cillian with that fact, perhaps even accidentally let him glimpse down her shirt. Now her nipples pressed hard against her shirt clearly visible to Cillian as he broke off the kiss and watched you both put on yet another show for him.

He watched your hands stroking Laura's breasts and felt his cock springing to action in his pants. He loved the light moaning noises Laura was making as your dainty fingers flicked and pulled at her nipples unremittingly.

Cillian lifted Laura's shirt over her head admiring her perky breasts as they came into view. He stepped to the side and reached out further to repeat the action with you. You did have a bra on, a fine lacy black number which left almost nothing to the imagination. Your breasts were much larger than Laura's and the bra did an amazing job of pushing them up in a deliciously tempting way.

He reached behind and unhooked the clasp with ease. Coquettishly, you let both straps fall down your arms whilst holding the main material of the bra to still cover your breasts. Cillian looked at you directly in the eye.

‘Drop it’ he growled.

‘Yes sir’ you giggled as you let the fabric fall from your hand revealing everything. Your skin was bronzed from hours in the sun and your large firm breasts beckoned for him to touch them. He placed a hand on one feeling the weight in the palm of his hand whilst he lowered his mouth to the other. As he took your nipple in his mouth he felt it harden against his tongue.

Cillian then reached out and took Laura's hand and guided it towards your breast. There now were hands all over and you leaned in towards Laura and again began kissing her passionately as Laura grew more adventurous and lightly flicked at your nipple. Her other hand rested on the curve of your narrow waist enjoying the feeling of your womanly shape and soft feminine skin.

The removal of the remaining items of clothing was a blur and soon Cillian found himself naked, splayed horizontally across the bed with you and Laura standing at the foot. As the clothing slipped away clearly any remaining inhibitions had too. You whispered something to Laura who got on to the bed between his legs.

Her large eyes looked up at him briefly before tenderly she bent over and kissed his thigh a few inches short of where he wanted to feel her mouth. She planted another kiss and then another, slowly working upwards until her mouth reached his soft pubic hair. But instead of taking him in her mouth she skipped over his penis and ran her kisses down his other leg.

During this time, you had moved to the side of the bed and were now kneeling alongside him. In one athletic gesture you stretched out her leg, pivoting slightly until your smooth pussy was positioned just above his face.

He breathed in your sweet, intoxicating scent and stretched out his tongue to take that first tempting taste.

Almost exactly as his tongue met with your soft mound he felt Laura's tongue connect with his erection. Tantalizingly slowly Laura's tongue worked her way up his seven inches until she reached the head and plunged it in her mouth. Again, she reversed her action and made her way back down his penis until she reached his balls which she gently took in her mouth and sucked.

At the same time, Cillian’s hands were on your ass to support you as his tongue lapped at your wet opening and you bucked around. Occasionally he would push his long tongue through your pussy lips and thrust as though he was fucking you with it driving you wild. Then he would shift his focus to your clit, skilfully stroking it with his tongue.

He had a girl on his cock and another on his face. It was heaven.

‘Let’s change it up a bit and make this baby, huh’ Laura then said eagerly as she let go of his cock and let it fall from her mouth.

‘Who first?’ Cillian chuckled, as he lifted you from his face and laid you down on the bed.

‘Y/N first’ Laura said as she collapsed next to you and, after you shared another brief but seductive kiss, you climbed up on all fours, pushing your ass out towards where Cillian was kneeling.

You shifted over, between Laura’s legs while Cillian lined himself up with your entrance.

Tentatively you placed your hands on Laura’s slender, toned thighs, her thumbs turned inwards so that they almost made contact with her labia. You then brought your mouth close and softly breathed on Laura’s skin causing her to shiver involuntarily just as you could feel Cillian push his length inside of you slowly.

‘Oh god he feels good’ you groaned against Laura’s wet mound, causing all three of you to moan.

As light as a feather you traced the tip of your tongue gently up one side of Laura’s pussy hearing her moan in response all while Cillian pushed into you further and further from behind until he bottomed out against your cervix.

Then, Cillian started off with slow but firm trusts while you tried your hardest to seductively tease Laura’s velvety haven, alternating your deliberate, predictable patterns with sudden surprise moves.

‘Is he fucking you good Love?’ Laura moaned, enjoying the sight of Cillian taking you from behind while he watched you giving Laura head in the most seductive and pleasurable way.

‘So fucking good’ you moaned as Cillian picked up speed, causing you to groan and moan even louder.

‘Fill her with your cum, Cilly’ Laura moaned as she observed Cillian’s facial expressions change as he continued to thrust into you.

‘Oh my god fuck, Cillian’ you moaned, unable to pay any attention to Laura’s needs at this point as you could feel your climax approach quicker than you had expected.

It was at this point that Laura scooted up from beneath you and kneeled next to Cillian, kissing him passionately as he continued to fuck you.

‘You are making her cum Cilly, I can see it’ Laura groaned as she pulled your ass cheeks apart, giving Cillian a better view of his cock as he slid in and out of your wetness.

‘Oh my god yes that’s it’ you moaned loudly as your orgasm finally washed over you and your walls tightened around Cillian’s cock, milking his seed from him.

‘Fuck’ Cillian groaned as he reached his high only seconds after you did, filling you with rope after rope of his warm cum.

‘Hmm fuck, yes’ Laura groaned as she watched some of Cillian’s cum spill out of you and, just after he pulled out, she pushed one of her fingers into your pussy, pushing his seed further into you.

‘Jesus Laura’ Cillian huffed out, watching her play with his cum inside your pussy and, just after your breathing had returned to normal, she scooted beneath you and began pleasuring you with her tongue.

The sight of Laura licking his cum from your pussy turned Cillian on immensely and, within mere seconds, he grew hard again.

‘Common, my turn now you stud’ Laura chuckled as she spread her legs while she continued to dip her tongue into your wet folds.

Cillian was quick to line himself up in between Laura’s legs while you turned around, facing him while Laura, who was still lying beneath you, continued her attack on your cum dripping pussy.  

Without losing any time, Cillian pushed in to her tight little hole and felt the satisfaction as she cried out when his girth filled her up completely.

He fucked her slowly, watching as her enthusiasm for licking you continued to grow. She was not holding back now and he knew that her face would be wet with your juices and his cum.

Then again, Cillian watched Laura work a couple of fingers into you and focus her oral attention directly on your clit causing you to become even more feverish.

Knowing that she was having this effect on you was such a turn on and combined with the feeling of Cillian's incredible cock slipping and in and out of her she felt the familiar tension building in her body that ached for release.

As he was fucking Laura, Cillian began to rub his fingers over your clit while, ever so often, play with your breasts and kiss you.

Laura felt like she could cum at any second but continued to focus on her own work. She slipped your clit between her lips, cradling it in her tongue and sucked gently. This caused you to suddenly cry out with a shattering moan thrusting her pelvis as your orgasm overtook your body.

‘Your cum tastes so fucking good’ Laura growled after you finally moved away and took a closer look at what Cillian was doing.

‘I can’t wait to have a taste’ you moaned as you pulled Laura’s legs back, giving Cillian better access.

‘Fuck me hard now’ Laura screamed at Cillian who obliged only too willingly drilling his cock in to her so hard that a loud slapping noise filled the air. Her back arched upwards off the bed and her pussy gripped tightly at his erection as she cried out in pleasure amidst her climax.

Overwhelmed from the intensity of the sensations that had shot through it, Laura's body crumpled beneath Cillian causing his rock-hard cock to explode for a second time.

‘Oh god yes, fill her up’ you groaned as you watched Cillian come inside Laura, coating her insides with his seed until, finally, his movements came to a standstill and he pulled out.

Just as he slipped out, you lowered your head and took his hard shaft into your mouth, cleaning the cum of it and tasting Laura’s sweet juices.

‘Holy shit’ Cillian gasped as Laura sat up and joined you, taking his balls deep into her mouth while you focused on his shaft.

‘Is there more for us Mr Murphy?’ Laura then asked cheekily and Cillian couldn't take his eyes off the sight as both of you taking your turns to pleasure him.

‘Are you girls for real?’ he asked and, despite the fact that he had only just come, Cillian could feel his cock starting to stiffen again. This was going to be a long night!

***

Three weeks following your encounter, you were excited to break the news to Cillian and thank him for his efforts.

‘So, which one of you girls is pregnant then?’ he asked as you called him rather excitedly.

‘We both are you stud’ you both cheered.

‘Jesus, well, congrats ladies’ Cillian said.

‘Want to come over to celebrate?’ you then asked.

‘How does 7 o’clock sound?’ Cillian asked.

‘It’s a date’ you responded.