#but my hair tangles like no ones business and is fucking Hot. so the secret undercut is the solution to my problems

[bitchfitch]

I have. exceptionally dense hair. so dense that I can shave everything except the front most inch of scalp surface around my face and center part and still look like I have a full head of thick hair. I wore it in a secret undercut for Years bc it basically never needs to brushed when it's like that. and only stopped when I had a pandemic "I have to shave my entire head" moment.

I've just cut the secret undercut back into it for the first time since I started dating my boyfriend and sent him pictures of my new haircut (visually identical to the one I've had the entire time we've been together) to fuck with him. and I'm waiting to see if he dares respond.

(he is used to my torments he will know a game is afoot it's just a matter of seeing which game he guesses it is)

all the hair that came off and what it currently looks like

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cs55, cl16, mv1, lh44, fa14, sv5, dr3, mwebber, jb22 x fem!reader ] three major kinks + a couple minor kinks for each driver

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp; i'm not going to tag all of these bc that would take 5ever BUT 1) everything is consensual & in the setting of a happy, healthy relationship & 2) dm me if you are needing any specific tw's/cw's & i'll be happy to share those!

a/n: it's been a hot, hot minute since i've had the energy to write (i was busy surviving my surgery core rotation at a level 1 trauma center & pediatrics at a major children's hospital), but i've been brewing up a lil something for awhile now! i was stalling out on writing the last part of corsica, so i figured i'd at least give you this to get the juices flowing again! i started this blog about six months ago, & i'm nearly at 500 followers & i wanted to take a moment to thank you all! i love you so much and i hope you enjoy this! these are the kinks i think each of these drivers has! what proof do i have, you ask? absolute fuck-all! enjoy, loves! xx

creampie + breeding kink — he’s a family man & lord knows how badly he wants his own. he’s possessive, too, & this sates both of those desires well for him.  he’s always whispering something in your ear, hand low on your belly about how good you’d look carrying his babies. and once you’re actually pregnant? sweet jesus, he’s never taking his hands off of you.

shower sex — he’s talked a number of times about how he’ll shower multiple times a day, and something tells me he’d never object to a partner. more than once he’s had you against the tiled walls until the water ran cold and your teeth were chattering.  he’d then proceed to take it upon himself to warm you up again, ever the gentleman.

post-workout sex — there’s something about the way you look, out of breath & drenched in sweat that sends all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. you’re trying to push him away, afraid that you’re just too gross, but this man does not give a single fuck.  he adores you in all your sweaty, sticky glory & is on you the second you make it back from your class, peeling you out of your leggings and wrangling your too-tight sports bra over your head.  and it goes the other way as well: his favorite workout cooldown is fucking you senseless; there’s something deeply primal about the exertion of a workout that clouds his head with only thoughts of you, out of breath & on the brink of orgasm.

minor kinks | hair pulling — rough sex — cockwarming — pussy worship — possessiveness — soft dom — teasing — dirty talk

praise kink — he’s a talker in bed, and that means that he’s telling you just how delicious the tight clutch of your velvet walls feels around his cock. one language is not enough to tell you all the ways you make him feel, how good you are, how badly he’s wanted you. it certainly doesn’t hurt when you reciprocate, but the sounds he’s able to work out of you are often enough for him.

vanilla sex — listen: it’s no secret that this man is a romantic, and there are few things as romantic as good ole vanilla sex. sure, some spice is nice every once in a while, but he doesn’t need it to get his rocks off. he’s too caught up in the romance of it all—the tangle of limbs, skin pressed against skin, stuttering breaths, and stammering hearts—to want anything else.  all he needs is you.

kissing — similar as above, charles is a sucker for romance, and a good makeout sess is just the right thing to get him hot and bothered.  he’s very talented with languages, and his mastery of his tongue doesn’t end with words. *wink wink*

minor kinks | oral sex (giving + receiving) — creampie — cowgirl — bathtub sex — breathplay

mutually drunk sex — no matter how much he loves a club scene, he’d always find himself back in your arms.  happy, sloppy, messy sex. as much as he loves a g&t, he loves the taste of you more.

wax play — we’ve seen the clips. he likes dripping the wax just as much as he likes being dripped on, and every time you go to light a candle his eyes get that hungry look like he could devour you whole; you’ve learned how to use this to your advantage.

dirty talk + praise kink — as we all know, this man is a certified YAPPER. and, unsurprisingly, that extends to the bedroom, too.  always groaning, grunting, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, there’s very little that leaves him truly speechless; you’ll always know exactly how he feels when you're riding his cock or taking him deep in your throat, whether that’s in dutch, english, or the french he’s been trying to practice. and, given his upbringing, he lives for the praises that fall past your lips; he aims to please, and your sweet words are all the motivation he needs.

minor kinks | restraints (giving + receiving) — spanking — threesomes — nipple play — sensory play

massage — he takes great pride in his physique, and he thinks every inch of you is perfect.  he loves watching all the tension leave your body. with such limited time in his busy, busy life, he thrives on the time he gets to spend with you; few things can compete with the peace, intimacy, and pleasure that comes from the feeling of your hands working over the tight muscles of his back and legs. and if they happen to wander somewhere else? well, what a happy accident that would be!

fingering — if there’s one thing lewis knows, it’s that a man’s most important tool isn’t the one between his legs.  he loves all the ways in which you unravel for him, your back pressed against his chest with your legs draped over his own to keep them open.  he’ll play with you like that for hours if he could, unlacing your composure until you're boneless and melting into him with every touch. (also, dear god, have you seen his hands? female gaze bait of the highest form.)

the lingerie stays on — there’s a litany of pick-up lines about clothes, etc. looking good on you but better on their floor, and a one mr. hamilton disagrees with that sentiment; we know well how he appreciates fine garments, and he loves them even more when you’re wearing them.  he’s most certainly one to spoil his partner, and if he’s going to buy you that agent provocateur set, you can bet he wants to see you in it.

minor kinks | soft dom — cowgirl — voyeurism — intimacy — dirty talk — shower sex — pillowtalk

face riding — why do you think he takes so much pride in his neck strength? and even when you’re squirming away from overstimulation, he’s more than able to hold you in place by hooking his toned biceps over your shaking thighs. he’s a menace, but he never leaves a partner wanting for more.

wearing his clothes — okay, this one isn’t original in the slightest because i simply cannot get this blurb by @folkloresthings out of my head.  nando would keel over at the sight of you in his clothes, especially if there was a particular lack of certain undergarments. he’d pull you in by the excess material and have you right there if feasible.

anal sex — all the nando fuckers know that he’s a little freaky—can i get an amen? that being said, his experience goes a long way in helping his partner get the most out of it and making it a pleasurable experience for all parties. he’d take his time working you open, pairing it with leg-shaking orgasms to wash away any doubts in your mind. it’s a new sensation, but a welcome one at that.

minor kinks | swallowing / facials — teasing — spanking — rough sex — sloppy sex — aftercare

teasing — a tyrant on the track and one in the bedroom as well. or in the car. or at a dinner with a few too many pairs of eyes. regardless, being a tease is his favorite above all else despite his own inability to handle a healthy dose of his own medicine. 

overstimulation — this more or less goes hand-in-hand with his teasing, but he loves the way you beg when you’re coming down from one high and coasting right into another. “just one more, liebling” or “you’ve got another one, don’t you, schatz?” or “i know you can take it, kleiner hase” before making your vision go white as he wrings another orgasm from you.

morning sex — but, above all else, sebastian is a lover, and few things are quite as intimate as slow, fumbling, half-awake morning sex where you’re mumbling praises and communicating in soft, hushed sounds of pleasure. chasing sensations and desires before your mind is even fully awake takes a strong, trusting bond, and he prides himself on this with his partner.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — mutual masturbation — toys — soft restraints (giving + receiving) — creampie / breeding — praise kink — dirty talk

cowgirl — this man & his obsession w/ texas—need i say more? how does that saying go, again? “save a horse…”

photos/sextape — daniel3.jpg would like a word.  he’s obsessed with this new medium, and what’s a better way to remember a spicy moment than on film? plus, when you’re traveling 200-plus days a year, you need a way to bring a piece of home with you however you can, whether that’s watching you fall apart while arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight or taking him into the back of your throat as you look up at him through damp lashes or riding his cock or or arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight…you get the picture.

threesomes — considering the way that everyone fawns over him on the grid, this man could so easily work himself into some surprising pairings. his love language is physical touch and he’s not afraid to share it. that, combined with his competitiveness and desire to please, turns into a dangerous desire for him to see you fucked out and overwhelmed by your own need for more.

minor kinks | mirror sex — dirty talk — thigh riding — facefucking — rough sex — hair pulling

rough sex — aussie grit. there’s nothing else i need to say other than he’s a wild ride.

aftercare — any rough lover worth their prowess, though, knows the importance of aftercare, and mark is no different in that regard.  he takes it very seriously and is always checking in afterward to make sure you enjoyed yourself as much as he did, peppering you in sweet kisses and warm embraces.

pussy worship — we’ve all seen the clip, right? this man knows how to eat pussy and he’s damn good at it. better yet—he loves doing it. you’d practically have to pry him off you from the overstimulation, his tongue, lips, and teeth finding alllll the right ways to make you fall apart.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — possessiveness — massage — swallowing / facials

exhibitionism + voyeurism — the grid slag. he’s confident about his body and his abilities, and he’s not afraid to share. he’s not overly possessive and an unabashed hedonist to boot, so this pairing works perfectly to get his rocks off (and hopefully yours, too). he’s a little freak, and he’s not afraid to let it show!

spanking — when you’re especially mouthy (frequently to get these exact reactions) and he’s a little bold, jenson is partial to taking you over his knee and seeing how long you can keep up the act before you’re a whimpering mess. frequently this ends with him literally kissing your ass, two fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping cunt while another toys with your too-sensitive clit.

brattiness — again, like above, he loves when you backtalk or drag your heels on him, making him work for your pleasure and, on some nights, your submission. (though, he’s not afraid to admit how fucking hot he finds it when you take control, using him for your pleasure and taking what you need. all that matters to him is raw, messy, dirty fun.)

minor kinks | threesomes — begging — degradation kink (giving + receiving) — nipple play — oral sex (giving + receiving) — toys

final note: that's all, folks! now what do you think? let me know! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes​ where i reblog inspo & recs!

[prettycoolgirl]

adicto

pairing: dbf!declan o'hara x f!reader.

summary: declan, your best friends dad can't wait any longer to be alone with you

a/n: small fic to celebrate that i finished my finals, i just watched rivals too and guys i loveeee declan, but this was a small one shot feel free to send me concepts! & requests are open as always, oh and breeding kink with declan fic coming soon!

warnings: 18+. smut. cheating. age gap once again (reader is in her 20s). fingering. dirty talk. definitely more warnings…

word count: 1k

as the party flowed, you became more drawn to declan once again. It felt so wrong to be eyeing him especially because his family and friends were present all around. yet you also couldn’t help but notice how he looked at you, affection and desire plastered over him. taggie, your best friend was busy chatting with rupert, completely oblivious to the fact that you’ve been sleeping with her father for the past couple of months. 

night slowly creeping in, the tension between you and declan had eventually had enough. he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "meet me in the bathroom in five minutes. i need you, alone." his voice was low and commanding, leaving no room for you to even argue. with a nod, you eventually managed to slip away from your conversation with lizzie, heart racing with anticipation.

you quickly slipped into the bathroom, with your flushed cheeks. meanwhile, declan is already there. his presence filling the room, his voice a low whisper, "shut the door." he turns to face you, his eyes darkening possessively as he sees you. "declan, i promised taggie i'd help her finish up the pastries. i can’t be gone for too long" you whispered, biting your lip as you approached him. he reached out, hand cupping your face possessively. "we’ll be quick angel," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. he knew it was all wrong, that their secret affair could ruin everything.

yet he couldn't stop himself. his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you closer. "lock the door," he ordered gruffly. as the lock clicked into place, he unbuckled his belt, eyes locked on yours. "come here," he said, patting his lap.

you hesitant for a moment, heart-pounding and body betraying you. as you moved forward of its own accord. sitting directly on his lap, short dress riding up to reveal your bare thighs. 

declan groaned, hands gripping your hips tightly. "i've been bloody hard watching you all night. seeing you in this dress, christ," he muttered, hands already working on the zipper of your dress. you carefully bit your lip, trying to be quiet as he pulled the dress down your arms, leaving you just with bra and panties. he stood up, holding you in his arms, and setting you on the counter. "spread your legs,"

he instructed, his voice low and commanding. doing as what you were was told, as your legs trembled slightly. declan stepping between your thighs, his large hands hooking into your underwear. "lift up,"

"christ, you're wet," he growled, his fingers brushing against your already damp panties. "always ready for me, aren't you?" his other hand reached up to cup your breast.

declan hooking his fingers into your underwear and slowly tugging them down your legs, revealing yourself to him completely. spreading your legs wider&stepping closer. "look at me," he ordered gruffly, his fingers splaying on you. "god look at you, you're dripping,"

"so fucking tight," he muttered, running his calloused finger along your slit. "always so tight for me, aren't you? like you were made just for my cock."

he brought his finger up to his mouth, sucking your juices off his finger before pushing two inside you. quickly you let out a quiet gasp, back arching off the counter as he fingered you roughly. "love when i have you like this,"

he growled, adding a third finger and pumping them in and out of you quickly. "I can't wait to bury myself in you, and fill you up." He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a rough kiss as he continued to finger you.

“fuck, i need you declan” you whispered.

"shh," he murmured against your lips, whilst fingers curling inside you. "not yet," he warned, straightening up and wrapping his arms around your thighs to pull your legs over his shoulders. "i need to make sure you can take me," he growled, pushing his fingers deeper.

declan with his fingers hooked inside you, stretching you out. "look down," he ordered gruffly. you peering down, watching as he fingered you open. "i want you to look at me while i stretch you out,"

"fuck, i can't, it's too much," you panted, squirming on the counter as he stretched you out. “you can” declan growled, once again slamming three fingers inside you and scissoring them open wide.

"oh god, oh god, oh god," eyes rolling back as he stretched you impossibly wide. "declan, i can’t" you whimpered, hands scrabbling at the counter.

"too bad," he snapped, fingers once again curling up inside you. "spread your legs wider," he demanded, his voice thrumming with barely contained anger. "there we go, good girl ."

"fuck, declan," you hissed, legs shaking as he forced you open. "declan, we have to hurry someone gonna suspect," you begged, voice cracking with desperation. but declan just ignored it, fingers moving faster and harder inside you.

"you should've thought about that before you bent over in this tiny dress," he growled, pulling his fingers nearly out before slamming them back in. "spread those knees wider," he commanded, pressing his thumb against your clit hard enough to make you cry out.

"declan!" you shrieked, back arching off the counter. "i-i'm going to- fuckk" you were cut off by a loud, wracking sob orgasm crashed over you, while you clenched around his fingers.

both of you trying to catch your breaths, faces inches apart, declan nuzzled into your neck. "you're absolutely perfect," he murmured. you smiled, arms wrapped around him possessively. "and yet you're still the worst," you giggled. 

declan zipped up your dress back up, and gently pulled your panties back up your thighs, adjusting them carefully. "love, are you sure you're alright to walk out like this?" he asked, eyes crinkling at the corners as you nodded, face flushed.

he helped you fix your hair, straightening your dress once more. "ready?" he murmured, his hand gently patting your thigh. "ready," you said. he watched as you took a deep breath and prepared to go back out to the party.

as you both walked through the halls with loud music blasting, declan sure to keep a discreet distance behind you, eyes never leaving your back. both soon found themselves face to face with rupert, who looked at you two with a knowing glint in his eye. "well, well, well," he chuckled, gaze flicking between you and declan.

[munsster]

hold my hand through it

A/N: oh, nothing just thinking about being taken care of by a lovely boy :( (gif creds: @keery)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

Summary: Even if there ends up being someone else to turn to, he hopes you always pick him. Especially now, battered and sore and desperate. 1.8k words.

Warnings: season 4 canon divergence, canon level gore, (secret) mutual pining, a hint of best friends to.... lovers?, hurt/comfort, pet names (sunshine, honey, baby), wound/scar description

The clench of your jaw and the way you slump into the dusty cushions of the Wheeler's old couch is telltale. Steve's side aches when your hand curls over your own ribs, the fabric of your band tee wet and sticky beneath your fingers. Nancy, Robin, and Eddie filter through the thickly fogged rooms, waving their flashlights up the steps and walls in slow circles. He watches the ashen air fill your lungs, the realization splintering your face, and you'd scramble to the bathroom if you could get up.

You glance up to find he's watching you.

"Steve?" you squeak. And tears spill over the rims of your eyes, down your cheeks, wetting the corner of your mouth and the column of your throat.

"Woah, woah," he huffs, skidding to his knees at your feet and winding his fingers around your wobbly wrist, uncertainty making you ache and hyperventilate even with his soft brown eyes honeyed over the blood like antibiotic. "Hey, eyes on me, sunshine, look at me."

But you're flickering between your soaked shirt and the delicate slope of his nose, between your scrape and the forgiveness he harbors in his slumped shoulders.

"There you go," he says, "can I...?"

You nod. Lifting your arms, it hurts. Like the skin was trying to heal just to be stretched apart again. You hiss, and he cradles your wrist back down.

"Ooh, careful, honey, don't push yourself. You've been hurt enough for one night."

"Is it bad? Steve," you cry, and he looks up to find your chin wobbling. It breaks his heart. "Steve, please, is it bad?"

"No. No, honey. It's alright." But the panic sets in around your eyes, wrinkling your forehead as blood trickles across your knuckle.

"How bad is it? Fffuck, it's bad, isn't it?" There's a maroon pool, slipping through the hardwood cracks beneath the tangle of your fingers and his.

"No, c'mon, you're fine. You're good," he huffs. Your eyes slink closed out of exhaustion or fear or the fact that it's so easy. "Baby, keep your eyes open, please. I'll go find a first aid kit. Promise me you'll keep 'em open 'till I'm back."

You frown, and his heart races. You were supposed to be the one to make it out. Back to reality. You were supposed to be his forever in the real world. Not just in this fucked up, pitch black underworld. Someone must be playing a trick on him. He's gonna wake up tomorrow to the sun hot on his face and you smiling sweetly back at him, fingers combing through his hair. He blinks hard just in case.

When he opens them, you're nodding.

"I promise." It sounds so weak dribbling from your cracked lips. Steve wipes the dirt from your jaw before darting to the lower level bathroom.

He roots desperately through the cabinets, sweat pricking across the back of his neck and his forehead and his scalp and his cheeks. God, he needs a shower and to make you better and to be home safe in his bed. With you.

You take a shaky, deep breath when he reappears with a dull, blue box under his arm. He sits beside you, wincing at the constricted noise that escapes your scratchy throat.

"What've we got... gauze, yes. Bandages, yes. Antiseptic, fuck yeah. We're in business, baby. Still with me?"

You nod weakly, hissing when he lifts your wrist into his lap. He watches your face as he rips the antiseptic wipes open.

"Gonna hurt, okay?"

A strangled sound escapes you and your head lulls onto his shoulder.

"Okay, sunshine. So proud of you, doin' great," he hums, pressing his dry lips to your damp temple. You grab for the hem of his sweater when he pats the blood from your gash. He can tell you're struggling to stay quiet, muscles tense and fingers wringing. You're tightly wound, and yet, you can feel yourself losing control.

Or maybe it's more like surrender. Relinquishment of your responsibility over your own blood. And you only do it because it's so easy to let him command it. Especially when he's so gentle in cleaning your wounds, why shouldn't you share your hurt if he's so willing to bear it.

His fingers spread neosporin over the cut, which is suddenly clean and only a little irritated. You can't help but watch him, so focused on packing the cotton and tightly sealing the wound with gauze.

"Alright?" Steve hums, and god, those brown eyes deserve their own gallery. He waits for an answer, but you're distracted and pouting at the thought of him putting your hurt before his own. Everyone has scrapes and cuts and soreness from climbing and running and falling. You saw it in his limp. And yet, he looked to you and didn't hesitate to kneel beside you and tend to your open wound. "Sunshine?"

"Yeah," you sigh, more sure than before, "feels better."

"Yeah?" he chuckles, "Feels better? That's good. I'm glad." He sighs, trying not to anticipate your reaction to the next step. He knows it's going to hurt. "Let's get you changed, okay?"

You bat your lashes up at him. That's what he was worried about. You're gonna do it, but it hurts his conscience to know how much pain the process will put you through. He stands from the couch, whipping off his sweater and shivering a little at the hellish chill.

Usually, you'd made a joke about his promiscuity. Something or other about him taking it all off. Maybe a catcall or two. He honestly misses it. The silence is deafening.

"Lift your arms."

You do, wincing and grating your teeth.

"Slowly. There you go." Once your arms are sufficiently above your head, he tugs at the soaked hem of your tee. He feels bad for cringing at the state of your side: sticky and dark red, a chunk of skin missing. Thankfully, it’s not too deep, but it still makes his heart clench.

He can’t bring himself to look in your eyes, knowing the strain and suffering he’ll find. Doe-wide and pleading as he tosses your shirt aside.

“Definitely won’t be needing that anymore,” he teases, looking at the bundled up pile of blood and cotton.

“Too bad,” you shudder, “that was my favorite.”

He grins.

With your arms still above your head, he carefully fits the rest of the gauze around your ribcage, cleaning the excess grime built up around the gash. He can tell you’re fighting to keep your eyes open as he pulls your hands through the sleeves of his damn yellow sweater. You always said it reminded you of a fuzzy bumble bee, a lingering title that he bore proudly.

He thinks you look so beautiful. Even now, streaked with dirt and ozzing blood. He thinks he'll never get used to your lazy smile and how you reach for his hand even when it hurts. His heart skips a beat feeling the warmth flood back into your fingers. "Careful, baby. Don't hurt yourself."

"Okay, Stevie," you whisper. You still have plenty of wounds that need tending to, but you're glad Steve was there for you. "Thank you."

He nods like it's all second nature. Shrugs it off like he didn't just save your life.

"Know what I'm looking forward to?" Steve says. It cuts through the fog suddenly. A welcome breath of fresh air in a conversation. "French toast."

You laugh, but stop short at the pinch of your ribs.

"Shit. Didn't mean to make you laugh. Well, I mean I did, just didn't intend for it to hurt," he says, looking a little guilty. Then, he looks over at you and his stomach drops. "Honey—"

"Sorry"—you choke a little, tears pouring hot down your cheeks, leaving clean streaks through the sheen of grime—"Sorry, I don't know why I'm crying."

"It's okay, you can cry. C'mere," he hums, resting your head back on his shoulder. He catches a tear from your cheek on his knuckle, wiping it on his collar then pushing the hair from your face.

"I'm just," you sigh. "I think I'm overwhelmed. And in pain. Obviously."

He smiles, sympathy tugging at his heartstrings when you inhale sharply.

"I know." It's mumbled against your forehead, his eyes closed and his voice hushed.

...

Eight months and a couple stitches later, the scar tissue on your forearm glistens gossamer in the sunlight as you face the push-door to the Hawkins gym. There’s a low roar coming from inside; the squeaking of shoes and blaring brass section welcomes you back. Steve had asked you to be his date to Lucas’ last game of the season. You couldn’t refuse.

Steve spots you as soon as you enter, his caramel hair sweeping soft across his forehead. Free of all the sweat and blood and weight it had that twisted spring evening. Seeing you again makes his heart soar. Knowing for a fact you’re safe and healthy. It makes him sweeter on you than he’d like to admit.

You climb the bleachers to the spot he has saved next to him. He kisses your cheek, which surprises you.

“I thought we weren’t kissing in public, yet,” you whisper. Yet, he remembers. He had agreed to that, he supposes. Only after you’d both hastily shared one outside your door one night and decided it would be best to share the rest of them where the kids couldn’t tease you incessantly. He scrunches his nose, shoving his nervous hands into his jean pockets.

“Well, you still owe me a certain yellow sweater’s worth of kisses,” he teases, “Besides, I don’t think anyone noticed.” You scowl playfully up at him, nudging his side.

“I told you you could have it back!”

“Nah. Looks better on you anyway.” He shrugs. He wouldn’t take it back if it came with a million dollars cash. It’s rightfully yours. “You know what I could go for right now?”

You tilt your head in amusement. “French toast?”

“You know me so well.”

stranger things masterlist

[theemporium]

hiii!! would u be able to write something for remus where ur in a secret relationship and he’s your brothers best friend? maybe sirius or james sister? ty!!

here ya go, love🖤

.

The problem with being related to James Potter was that he was incredibly protective. 

He had good intentions and you knew he truly meant well, that he just cared for you and saw it as his duty as an older brother to look out for you. But Merlin, that boy would push his limits sometimes. 

That was why you decided to keep your shift in relationship a secret from him at first. You didn’t need James moseying into something that wasn’t his business so early on in the relationship. 

But weeks passed and the thrill of sneaking around was still at a high—and yeah, there was just something really fucking hot knowing you were fucking one of your brother’s best friends and he had no clue. 

Ironically enough, you didn’t like Remus Lupin very much the first time you met him.

His quiet nature came of as rude, he never really made an effort with you and anyone beyond your brother and his other friends didn’t seem worth a second glance to young Remus Lupin. 

Not that James ever agreed with you. He was very insistent that the young werewolf was a brilliant man that you just hadn’t given a chance. 

You could only laugh if James saw you now. 

“Are you sure no one saw you?” you murmured against his lips as you tugged your boyfriend into your bedroom, a spell muttered under your breath to lock the door behind him. The small perks of James inviting his friends to stay with him over the course of summer. 

“Positive, love,” Remus reassured you before he ducked his head down to the crook of your neck, letting out a small groan. “I’ve missed you.”

“You saw me less than two hours ago,” you mused playfully, fingers tangled in his hair. 

“Yeah, but I couldn’t do this,” he grumbled as he pressed kisses along the column of your throat, teeth dragging across sensitive skin. 

“Remember not to leave—“ 

“I know, baby. I’ll be careful.” 

But Remus Lupin was, in fact, not careful. He wasn’t careful in the slightest and you blame your lack of less-than-murderous thoughts in the morning for the fact you didn’t notice anything either before you headed downstairs the next day. 

“What is that?” 

You didn’t bother looking up from plate, blinking away the sleepiness in your eyes. “Hm?” 

“What’s that on your neck?” James repeated, his tone a little snappier and his words a little heavier. 

Your whole body froze for a moment as you resisted the urge to cover your neck with your hands. “What’s what, Jamie?” 

“No, don’t Jamie me,” James’ chair scraped across the wooden floor before he was beside you, tilting your head to the side. “This is a hickey! You have a hickey!” 

You pulled your head from his grasp and glared at him. “Stop making a big deal out of nothing.” 

“My baby sister has a hickey!” James cried out, hand on his chest like he was moments away from passing out. 

“Who’s the lucky wizard?” Sirius asked from his spot at the table, smirk on his lips. “Or witch. We would never judge.” 

“You’re too young to have a hickey!” James interrupted. 

“That,” you said as you pointed to your brother. “Is exactly why I’m telling neither of you anything.” 

Sirius pouted. “I thought we were closer than that, baby Potter.” 

“You have a big mouth, Black,” you stated simply with a shrug. 

Sirius grinned. “So does the bloke who gave you that ringer on your neck.” 

“BLEH!” James gagged as you rolled your eyes. 

“C’mon, tell us!” Sirius prodded. 

James turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Yeah,” he said in his ‘big brother’ voice. “Tell us. Right now. I need to know who’s head I’m ripping off their body.” 

“Stop being so dramatic!” You sighed and shook your head. “Like I said, I’m telling neither of you two anything.” 

“Just us?” Sirius questioned before nodding to Remus who had been fairly quiet during the ordeal. “So you’d tell Moony and not us?” 

Your eyes met his from across the table and you could’ve sworn something smug glimmered in his eyes. You could’ve sworn you could see semblances of a smirk tugging on his lips as he lifted his cup for a sip. 

“I know how to keep a secret, Pads,” Remus answered casually. “Japan would know by dinner time if she told you.” 

“I’m waiting on a name,” James said with a huff. 

“Keep waiting then,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not telling you anything. I’m a big girl, I can have a boyfriend.” 

“BOYFRIEND?!” James spluttered. 

“Sit down, Prongs, before you hurt yourself,” Remus muttered. 

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Was he here last night?”

There was a pause. 

“Is he still here?”

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, both boys were bolting towards the staircase, already racing towards your bedroom that you knew very well they’d find empty because the culprit they were looking for was currently grinning at you. 

“You said you’d be careful,” you grumbled to your boyfriend who could only let out a small chuckle. 

“Can’t help myself, baby, you’re irresistible.” 

Your eyes narrowed. “Sweet talk me all you like, Lupin, but you’re on thin ice.” 

His eyes glimmered with a dark promise. “You gonna punish me, sweetheart?” 

“Maybe I will. Guess you gotta sneak back into my room tonight to find out.” 

“I’ll be there.” 

You snorted. “Yeah, good luck getting past James and Sirius tonight.”

.

[sugar-omi]

bruh it feels so weird to be writing smth that isnt a request... ily guys sm though tysm for sending your requests all the time, rn im taking this time to finish everything in my drafts + inbox n then i'll open my requests again 👍 anyway this was gonna turn into smut but i decided a part 2 will be best, so here are some crumbs for now <333

tags : Suggestive, all readers, drabbles (there is no cohesive order in the way things happen imma be honest), flirting, you know you have a crush on each other, touchy cove, (mention of) drinking, reader likes long hair, the length of cove's hair is up for interpretation (imagine his hair is like any of the step 4 hairstyles)

[inspired by this post: you n cove teasing/flirting with each other]

synopsis : you and cove are in college and since you're so busy, cove hasn't gotten his hair cut and it's getting longer than he's ever had it, of course you need to tell him how attractive he is with it long.

[part 2] [part 3 / TBA (this will b smut👍👍)]

it comes up when you're sitting on the floor of terry's dorm.

cove is looking at a long strand of hair he's pulled into view, scrutinizing the length. "I'm probably gonna go in for a trim... or do have my dad do it, it'll be cheaper that way." he laughs

you come in from behind, balancing drinks in your hand and passing it out to your circle.

"no way!" you start, "top three worst things a man can do is cut his long hair." you laugh, joking but serious on your opinion

"what makes you say that?" Miranda giggles, leaning into Terry.

you take a swig of your water. it's room temperature n does nothing to ease your throat.

"long hair is sexy."

cove feels his heart skip, suddenly feeling very hot and it's not from the smirnoff-ice you and lee bought during her visit last weekend.

"what's the other two?" Terry asks

"be a dick and insult your mother." you smile, taking the dice to the board game you're playing and rolling.

your piece moves up three squares, player orange owes you money.

Terry curses. "fuck! you're robbing me, man!"

you cackle, taking Terry's fake dollar bills.

coves still stuck on what you just said, and you keep grinning even when realize how red he is.

you can't help but tease him a bit more than usual today. maybe it's because of how he's wearing his hair and his glasses are hanging low on his beautiful nose, and it makes his face look so goddamn irresistible.

maybe the alcohol has you a little more brave today, just enough to make your heart not jump out of your chest at 100mph and for your lips to be a bit looser than usual.

"you look sexy like that cove.." you purr, tangling your hand his hair.

you push his bangs up to show his forehead, some shorter hairs falling out and the rest dropping back against his face when you reach around to tug on his work-in-progress ponytail.

you lean in to whisper in his ear, not caring that your friends are just a game board across from you, Miranda hiding her face n Terry making silent gagging and booing faces.

enjoying how red his ears are and how frantic he looks, you cup your hand as if to share a secret. "you make me wanna fuck you when you look like this.."

you lean back, leaving cove to process what you just said.

honestly, the two of you have been in this song-and-dance for years ever since you were 17, it started becoming unbearable, but not unbearable enough to do something.

for now anyway

it was from subtle glances to tangling your pinkies, than it went to undressing each other with your eyes from the other side of the couch. and then when you got into college it was mouthing dirty or suggestive lyrics to tease the other, and it was cove's hands on your back, hips, and leg as he pushed past you or held you down with his large palm on your thigh as he told Terry to take the backseat since you're his copilot today.

and his fucking smile when he said it, the little wink he gave...

and now it's been one hair away from dirty talking each other in the library.

you and cove are looking for the books for your shared class and he points out how the student working the front desk is giving you gaga eyes.

you laugh, a bit nervous at the thought.

cove stalks behind you, hands in his pockets and with the RBF on his face he looks lazy and mean.

"every time we go out, someone is checking you out... why are you so pretty y/n?" cove pouts, grumbling.

you roll your eyes. he's a bit tired from getting little sleep so he could study for the test he had this morning, and that cove is always a bit more... husky.

he licks his lips.

"serious. you're too beautiful to take anywhere.." cove comes up behind you, rest his chin on your shoulder and intertwining his fingers in your hoodie pocket.

you stutter, getting flustered. "c-cove! get off you big oaf!"

cove just hums, hugging you.

you tremble a bit, waiting for him to get off you.

it feels so good and makes you so excited to have him like this, to have his thick voice scratch your ears and now his body heat against you.

he removes his forehead from your neck, his hands taking a firm grip of your hips before he moves away. then in a low voice, scratchy with fatigue. "don't flirt back with anyone else, okay?"

he takes the books from your arms, bringing them up to the counter with a thump, biting back his smile as he watches the dude ring them up with a bit of a scowl on his face.

you flounder for a bit, feeling dizzy like cove just sucked all your life force out of you. it always makes your world shift a little when cove reciprocates your advances or flirts with you unprompted..

you snap out of your thoughts, deciding that the library was not a good place to have a wet daydream, and you rejoin cove as he accepts the books.

this man has ruined you..

[persphonesorchid]

Spring Crescent - JJK x reader

Summary: Just you, Jungkook, and spring time.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: one swear, they shower together.

Wc: 2.0k

Masterlist - Here

If you like my content, please consider supporting me 🥺 - Here

Notes: Dedicated to the loml @xpeachesncream !! I HAD to keep it secret (keep it safe lmao) from you even though you kept asking what 'the jk thing' was. Happy birthday my love, I wish you the best, because you deserve it and way more! Here's to more of our crackhead conversations and simping over men! I love you ❤️

“Baby...” Jungkook’s voice is a rumble in his chest, against your back, sleepy and barely there. He’s warm where he’s pressed against you, legs tangled somewhere lower with yours and the sheets.

You’re awake, have been for a while, but not wanting to move and disturb him. Watching the chill of the night cling still to the window, and the slow rise of the sun that heralded a new day.

Bits of frost melts and slides away as winter wanes and ushers in spring. You follow the slow slide of frost down the window with your eyes, and Jungkook shifts behind you. The tip of his nose is cold where he brushes it against the back of your neck.

“You awake?” He shifts and his hair tickles your neck, he props his chin on your arm, sleepy eyes peering at you behind the mess of his hair. “Hi.”

“Hi,” You smile, freeing your other arm from the warmth of the sheets to brush his hair back. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhmm.” Jungkook hums before he flops down behind you, pressing his chest against your back, “Ah, it’s so cold.” He whines.

“Well,” you chuckle, “You refused to put the heater on, so it's your fault.” You shift away from him to get up, and he only whines louder as you escape.

“Where are you going?” You’re already halfway across the room, and he’s wrapped the covers tightly around himself, eyes sleepy and hair everywhere. “Come back here and keep me warm.”

“I have to pee. Want me to stand here and do it?”

“You’re so...” Jungkook sighs loudly, his fingers peeking out from the covers to shoo you away, “Fine. Begone.”

Laughing, you make your way across the hall to do your business. It wasn’t long before Jungkook followed, the shuffling of his slippers giving him away. You’re brushing your teeth when he knocks and opens the door, making a face at you.

“Traitor. You weren’t planning on coming back to bed.” He says, you smile at him through the toothpaste, and he drags his feet over to the toilet.

The toilet flushes, and Jungkook’s next to you, nudging you to the side so he could wash his hands. He plucks his toothbrush from the hanging holder mounted on the wall, “We should go for a walk...there’s this new place that opened a couple blocks from here...we can get breakfast there?”

“Sounds good...” You spit the toothpaste foam out of your mouth, “But do we really have to walk all the way there?”

“It’s good exercise!” Jungkook sticks his toothbrush into his mouth while you rinse yours. You wander over to the shower, more than ready to take a hot one before Jungkook stops you. “Wait, wait. Don’t go in without me.”

You wait another two minutes while he finishes brushing his teeth, busying yourself with getting fresh towels from the cabinet. When he’s done and he’d carefully put his toothbrush back into the holder, he complains once again about the cold as he slips out of his large tee-shirt and sweats, hopping into the shower before you do despite asking you to wait.

You follow not long after, the water’s already flowing in a steady hot stream while Jungkook just stands there under it with his eyes closed like he’s found the fountain of youth. He leans his head back a little too far, then jerks it forward, sputtering.

“That went right up my nose, fuck.” He steps out from under the water, maneuvering you to take his spot with gentle hands. He blows the water out his nose, rinsing his fingers with the water that flows off of you.

Jungkook pokes at your sides with his fingers when you turn to grab the bar of soap and the washcloth. “Hey, d’you think if I smack your ass right now it’ll hurt more because of the water?”

“You know, regular people plan stories in their heads in the shower.”

“So that’s a no?”

You turn around just in time to catch Jungkook’s hand on the draw back. “Don’t,” you laugh, pressing his hand to his side, “I’ll smack you right back.”

“I’d like that though...” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, giving you a smirk that looks as dangerous as the droplets of water sliding down his flushed chest.

“I know you would, you little freak.” You chuckle, giving him the soap and the washcloth, “Get lathering.”

By the time you and Jungkook get out of the shower, the sun’s up a little more, past the slightly gray clouds and shining into your shared bedroom with its beautiful morning glow.

Jungkook makes sure you’re both properly dressed to brace the Spring’s chill, passing you a pair of fleece lined tights and fitted sweatpants, along with a light blue sweater and a long white coat.

“You’re always stealing my hair ties...” you mumble, as Jungkook sits between your legs, letting you brush his hair back to tie somewhere in the middle. The hairs at the front that’s too short to make the pull hangs loosely on his forehead.

“We’ve been over this, babe. Our hair ties.” You shake your head even though he can’t see you, trying to tame the fly-aways near his nape that refuses to lie down.

You’re down the stairs in the next five minutes, after Jungkook took forever to decide if he was going with the long or short coat, both of which were black. He’s now wiggling his feet – clad in those ungodly toe-socks he likes for reasons you would never understand – into his boots while you do the same. With perfectly, socially acceptable socks.

The chill isn’t as bad with your layers, but you shiver nonetheless as Jungkook locks the house. You stare at the car, a little forlornly when Jungkook throws an arm over your shoulder and directs you out the driveway and down the sidewalk.

He’s humming some song he says he’d heard somewhere, brows furrowed because he just can’t remember the name of it or where he heard it from. You weave your way through the other few early morning walkers, off to their own destinations, exchanging pleasantries as you pass them by.

There’s a young girl helping her mother set up the eye-catching sidewalk displays in front of a flower shop, talking and laughing about something. People who decided to brace the cold in thin sweaters while they jog past you and Jungkook.

You don’t mind the walking so much now that Jungkook has you tucked close to his side as he talks about how pretty the flowering trees look. You can see the trees that guard different spots in the park a good ways away, some of them in little clusters of pink and whites and pale yellows.

Jungkook points out the small diner tucked between two other buildings as you draw nearer, wondering out loud what their breakfast menu would look like. There’s a little tinkle of a bell somewhere above you when Jungkook opens the door and lets you walk in first, and you’re greeted with blissful warmth and a comforting smell of coffee and fresh bread and sweet pastries.

The inside is small and neat, booths with brown leather seats tucked into sides and corners, tables and chairs in more open spaces. All the tables are dotted with cutlery and napkin holders, and little shakers with neat labels, all on top of large white doilies. White tiled walls reflecting the hanging lights that are on despite the daylight streaming in through the large clear windows, dark brown hardwood floors that look nicely polished.

There’s a digital menu on a TV screen on the wall behind the counter, with little pop-ups of daily specials and limited time drinks. A display showcase divided by two with warm and cold pastries, different types of bread on trays at the bottom. It's surprisingly empty, but you’re sure more people would show up in a little time.

Jungkook makes a soft ‘Oohing’ sound as he goes over to the showcase, eyeing the different flaky pastries on display inside. “They’ve got blueberry jam tarts!”

A door behind the counter swings open, and a girl who looks to be in highschool, fixing the straps of the beige apron she wears under the collar of her black tee-shirt. “Hi, I’m sorry I kept you waiting!”

“We just walked in, don’t worry.” You smile at her, and by the way she flutters nervously through asking you and Jungkook what you’d have, you could tell it’s her first job.

Jungkook leans down a little to ask, “What’d you want?”

You hum quietly, squinting at the menu thoughtfully. They have a variety of options, American and Asian breakfast foods all of which catch your eye and make you indecisive.

“Chosilog?” Jungkook asks, looking at the menu and then back at you, and you only nod because you’d be standing there forever trying to decide. He orders while you look at the pastries again, thinking about getting some of the cupcakes with the pretty swirled icing on top.

You and Jungkook sit in a booth near the large glass window, watching the people passing by and onwards. The diner is a little fuller now, and there’s two people behind the counter trying to keep the line to a minimum. You’d both stacked your used utensils neatly in one corner, with the cupcakes you’d wanted tucked into a neat little white box and your coffee in a take-away cup, you left.

Jungkook swings your joined hands between you both as you walk the couple more blocks to the park. Jungkook wanted to take photos of the trees, and who are you to deny him?

You’re sitting on a bench, now that Jungkook has enough photos of you both and the trees that he can change his wallpaper at least fifteen times. The trees look prettier up close, flowers and leaves being plucked off their stems and flowing down in the breeze.

"They're really pretty." You say, staring up at the small yellow flowers sprouting on the branches of a large sansuyu tree. Jungkook presses his lips against your temple and lingers there, fingers making a home of the spaces between your own.

"I've seen prettier things."

There’s people walking to and fro, minding their own businesses, Jungkook’s head leaning on your shoulder as he furiously texts the group chat he’s in with his friends. He's forced to put his phone on silent, as it keeps going off every second like his friends decided to wake up at the same time to chat.

“Ready to head back?” Jungkook asks, lifting his head from your shoulder to prop his chin there. He tucks his phone into the pocket of his coat, “We’ve both got nothing to do today, so we can watch a movie or something...”

You hum your agreement, and you and Jungkook make your ways back up the couple blocks towards home.

Now you’re curled up next to Jungkook, warm and comfy with a show on the TV you’re barely playing mind to. Staring at Jungkook, who’s staring at the TV with rapt attention, buttered popcorn in his hand, mouth still chewing at the bit he put there before.

“You’re not gonna miss a thing if you blink.”

He throws a half popped kernel at you without looking, and it bounces off you and skitters to the floor. He doesn’t pay you much attention, except his fingers softly tugging at the material of your sweatpants for no reason at all, or when you poke his side and he remembers to blink.

The box that held the cupcakes sits empty on the coffee table, now only holding the cupcake wrappers and smudges of frosting. Softly, Jungkook nudges you a little, shifting so that his legs are behind you. He sets the half empty bowl of popcorn aside, opening his arms for you to lay down.

You go without complaint, laughing when Jungkook sputters, brushing your hair away from his face with that hand that wasn't under your head. He tucks your head under his chin, sighing as he relaxes.

The comfort of your day lasts till the end of it, where it’s just you and Jungkook.

Tagging: @eoieopda @luaspersona @matchy6812 @madbutgloriouspond @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @amon-rei

[geometricalien]

Hello! I couldn't remember if you shipped them or not, but for the OTP/Self Ship ask could you do #s 8, 22, 23, 30, 37, 38, 47, and 58 for AkaFuri?

I do ship them! Sorry for the delay as well, it did take a hot minute to think everything through.

8. What happens if one of them gets sick?

Here's the thing, I think Akashi rarely gets sick. If he gets a symptom or two he is quick to start taking the necessary precautions and medications, he is way too busy to get sick. But the second it does actually impede him, it crashes on him all at once. It's the whole “after a stressful period, you may be prone to succumbing to illness.” When he accepts there is nothing to do but ride it out, he becomes an absolute pathetic baby refusing to rise from bed. Furihata can’t help but laugh at the sight of Akashi being so pitiful whining that he stays by his side and cuddle but it's also really fucking cute. He has a secret file of sick Akashi pictures on his phone, just him sleeping with a red nose or wrapped in a burrito of blankets with this small pout at the camera.

When Furihata is sick, you know Akashi is not going into the office. He’ll be doing work at home and doting on him like no one's business. I think Furihata would tell him he’ll be fine alone, go to work, and fall asleep only to awaken and go in the living room to find Akashi at the dinner table with his laptop and paperwork while Akashi has Furihata’s favorite soup simmering on the stove. “I told you to go in.” “I did. I went in and told Matsu-kun to move my meetings and then I grabbed some of those ginger ale’s that settle your stomach when you are sick.” After that, Furihata moves to rest in the living room with the television on at a low volume and drifting off to the soft taps of Akashi’s laptop, secretly pleased.

22. What reminds each of their partner?

I think violins, piano, scissors (lol), classic tea serving ceremonies, roses, crisp lines, shogi, a devastating ankle break, prideful cats that turn to butter when you scratch behind their ear, tweed and turtleneck sweaters, the smell of coffee, thunderstorms, 9:00 pm - the time in Tokyo they would call each other when living across the world: are just a few things that remind Furihata of Akashi. While books, cheap dime a dozen blue ballpoint pens, cluttered and messy sticky notes, physical CDs, old bookstores that are more like haphazard collection of books weighing down a maze of shelves than anything commercial and ordered, daisies, saving the best bite for last when eating, dogs with big round eyes, the fresh scent of earth after rain, 7:00 am - the time in New York they would call each other when living in different countries: remind Akashi of Furihata.

23. Who’s more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning?

Akashi. Akashi is a cuddlebug of the highest degree. Come the weekend and without any obligations, Akashi likes to stay tangled together. Take that as innocently or sexually as you like, because they are both true lol

30. Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

This is actually so hard agdhshsj because do I go with some everyday wear? Cute date outfit? Fancy gala clothes? And then how do I show that? So. Instead. I'm going to do what I do in spare time anyways and go to one of those tik tok outfit generators and imagine wlw akafuri ❤️☺️ In my mind, Akashi dresses fem- think long red silky hair, bows and lace, fully owning her body. While Furihata dresses queer- chunky wolfcut, bold patterned collared short sleeved button down shirts, lowkey baggy chill streetwear clothing.

Okay so here is Akashi’s outfit for Furihata: I think Akashi uses this opportunity to play dress up? So she puts Furihata in clothes she wouldn’t normally wear but would look fucking great on her. I’m not sold on these exact pairs of shorts but something black and casual is in line for my vision. Also I almost had a heart attack imagining Furihata in this and so did Akashi ahdhsjsks

Here is Furihata’s outfit for Akashi: It is very professional and put together with the nice balancing of brown, pink, and light blue. I also think she would get Akashi this cutesy cherry sweater and Akashi would wear it.all.the.time.

37. Which is more likely to swear?

Furihata fldjsakfj It’s not gratuitous but every now and then he uses it as an exclamation. I can not see Akashi swearing at all, if he is going to insult you he isn’t going to call you a motherfucker or an asshole, he will call you a worthless illiterate scum. Bro is pulling out the 2 cent words to read someone to filth.

38. Who is more sexually experimental? Who’s more vanilla?

Keep in mind, i'm the bitch that wrote akafuri/midotaka foursome. Between them, I think Furihata would have more sexual experience but it would still be vanilla between them for a few years. They slowly add spice over the years they are together, I think it is also Furihata who opens the door to this sexual experimentation. Akashi is so prim and proper, I don't think anyone would really plant the seed in him to pursue Spicer sex. No locker room talk in school. He doesn't really have time to look into the culture of sex. I can only see Kuroko telling him about his sex life and even then that's a maybe. But Furihata has all of these things. He has locker room talk. Time to learn the culture. Takao or his buddy's tell him what they do. I also think Furihata does have a submissive side that he wants to explore with Akashi and wow would you look at that, they fit together like puzzle pieces.

47. Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

Scenario 1: If Bokushi never reintegrated, the secret that would ruin their relationship is if Furihata had a favorite of his personalities and/or hated one. That's his brother. It's both of them or neither of them.

Scenario 2: I mentioned briefly earlier that Akashi went overseas for graduate school. I think a secret that could ruin their relationship is that one night, he went drinking with some college friends, got drunk, missed his boyfriend, thought he saw him in the bar, kissed him, had sex with him, and only realized at dawn his mistake. That one beside him was a stranger. They were still dating but their relationship was strained. They missed each other. Akashi wasn't able to support Furihata. And Furihata felt like he was holding Akashi back, limiting him, not enough for Akashi. Akashi knew if he told him what happened Furihata would take it as confirmation of his worst insecurities. Now years later, reunited, he thinks about telling Furihata this secret now and then. But he's not sure if it's something Furihata will laugh off or be deeply betrayed by and end things. When he is sure Furihata’s response will be laughter, there is a ring sitting at the bottom of his desk drawer waiting.

58. Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

Interesting… Akashi holds a grudge like the best of them but if it's Furihata… He is quick to melt and forgive. So I gotta go with Furihata. Akashi accepts a kiss and an apology and it's forgotten. Furihata needs action, commitment, and genuine sorrow. But I think it would be Akashi pulling up old arguments while in one to be petty.

[xreader001]

💡 story idea

Enemies to friends with benefits to lovers

A litte hurt but super fluffy

Sex, p in v

Bad writing

Enjoy

You couldn't stand billy hargrove what a jerk He was full of himself and you hated that he actually was pretty hot

He thought you were hot but the way you acted like you weren't attracted to him pissed him off he was obviously the sexiest human this cow town had ever seen

You and billy had been paired for an assignment and agreed to study at your house

Your parents told you he was only allowed to come over when an adult was home

One day your mom and dad were both going to be out for most of the day and you forgot to cancel with billy

You were dressed to meet your friends at the mall in a skirt and tank so when billy was at the door you instantly felt annoyed

Yn : I cant study with you today hargrove

Billy : Too bad YLn im here

Yn : My parents arent home

And im meeting friends at the mall

His eyebrows raised a bit at what you said and he smirked then he casually said hed tell the teacher you werent contributing to the project

as you thought about this he added something about you being to young to have some onever without a babysitter which pissrd you off so you said he had one hour to work on the project

the two of you were arguing over something stupid both getting heated up and suddenly he grabbed your arms and started pushing you backward making eye contact the whole time

you stumbled backward his grip kept you from falling

Until you were pressed against the bedroom wall

And then he pressed his lips to yours quick and hard your mouth opened and you were kissinghim back as your heart was jack hammering against your ribs

You didn't realize how horny you were until his lips met yours

He was an asshole completely full of himself but dammit if he wasn't the hottest boy you'd ever known and he pushed all you buttons

Your hands were tangled in and pulling his curly hair

his hands moved down to your hips squeezing he grinded into you and you pushed back

Soon you were both naked fucking hard doggy style on your bed

Billy : I knew you wanted to fuck me your pussy is so wet for me YN

Looking over you shoulder

Yn : your so full of your self hargrove

Billy : no baby your the one who's full of me

He said as he pushed his full member into your cervix making moan

Yn FUCK

You screamed as you climaxed he pulled you hair fucking you hard until you finish then he came all ove you back You showered together and for the first time it was like you were both good friends

It seemed weird to act friendly at school you didn't want people knowing what happened so at first you both ignored each other at school when possible after you both presented your project to the class you began openly being cordial and then you could retain the growing friendship

You two had become fuck buddies but when the opportunity to date rolled around you both openly saw other people but didn't tell them about your secret fling

You begin to realize your falling for billy you've stopped seeing other guys but he's still seeing other girls

You want to tell him how you feel there were a few time you tried and failed either You got interrupted or he throught you were kidding around and you chickened out blaming along

Billy was starting to realize he loved you he was just seeing other girls because he didn't think you felt that way and he was scared of his feelings

One day you were on your way to meet billy at the mall

One of the girls billy was seeing bumped into him and they started talking she wanted him to go with her

Billy said he was busy

And she implied he was hooking up with you over her

He tried to deny it just as you were turning the corner you saw them Your heat sank when you saw him put his arms around her waist

Billy : come on babe its not like that yn is just a friend she like one of the guys

The pain you heart was accute you turned tears in your eyes and ran from the mall you cried that whole weekend and ignored Billy's calls at school you just told him sorry for not showing that you'd left town for family emergency your aunt wasn't well

And then did your best to avoid him

He knew you were lying and you wondered how you were going get him leave you alone wit out revealing how you felt

Billy was confused and angry why were you lying to him and why were you avoiding him

He began harassing you and your friends

There was one person you were really close with and you told him or her about your relationship and feelings for billy

Your friend under intimidation confessed to billy about your feelings for him and that you over heard what he said about you to another girl he liked

Billy smiled his beautiful smile when he heard you loved him and then it wascgone in seconds when he realized he'd hurt you and possibly lost you before he'd even got the chance to call you his

He knew he had to make it up to you

Big romantic gesture

Billy cam to school early and put a dozen red roses in your locker with a note that said be at te bike racks after school waitvfor everyone else to go home

When you got the flowers you were shocked the note wasn't sign and you were burning with curiosity

You almost hadn't noticed billy hadn't come to school

First you worried that Neil hurt him but your anger bit back he was probly with some bimbo

You waited around after school until everyone left

You weren't expecting billy to pull up in his camero

Billy get in

Yn I'm busy I'm meeting someone here

Billy I know

Yn ...

Billy did you like the flowers

Yn your the one who left the flowers

Why?

Billy get in the fucking car

You get in

Billy turns up the rock music and speeds off not nearly as fast as he would go if you weren't in the cat

You don't say anything while he drives your mind in busy trying to figure out what he is upto he must be trying to make up with you

You got a sour feeling in your stomach knowing you couldn't just be friends or fwb watching him hook up with other girls

You knew you'd have to expose your secret feelings so hebwould understand why you couldn't be around him

When the car suddenly stopped you looked around this spot was were you hooked up so many times no on else knew about it

Your heart ached thinking he just wanted to fuck

Yn : look billy...

Billy : yn shut up and listen

I was a dumb ass for a long time i should have seen it before and i should have said something sooner.

You were confused.

Billy : I was scared see that know one could really care about me

Your eyes widened with his words

I couldn't see how you felt about me and I did want to admit how I felt about you because I didn't think I could have anything good but that doesn't matter anymore I didn't mean what I said at the mall

You reacted sitting up straight how did he know!

Billy : calm down, your friend told me you were there and heard what I said

I waso just being stupid scared to admitt it then but now I'm only scared of loosing you..

I love you yn

You let out the breath you been holding in

Yn : I love you

You both kissed for a long time holding onto each other

Then you made love in his car in your spot

After that you were officially dating ❤️

[wreckofawriter]

better

pairing: regulus black x evans!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: swearing, angst, make out scene

request by: @upchurch-funk

summary: being a muggleborn dating Regulus meant you had to keep it a secret. When your older sister finds out she raises fear of heartbreak in both of you

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

    You and your sisters had been born jealous. Petunia turned to envy first as the attention that had been solely given to her was split between two other daughters. She had always been bitter towards you and Lily, never forgiving you for interpreting her perfect young life.  She had taken your things, broken your toys and ripped your clothes trying to punish you for being born and turning her from an only child to the eldest.

    Lily was next when she realised she wasn't the only one who could sprout fire from her fingertips. She had accused you of faking your magic for years, doing everything she could to best you even if she never fully understood her powers herself. Luckily she outgrew this jealous fit and by the time you shared a cabin on your way to Hogwarts she was beaming ear to ear. 

    It was you who was last to realise what the burn in your chest really meant. The feeling came heavy like thick rain drops as you watched your sister fall so effortlessly in love. Each time she gave James a quick hug or leaned onto his shoulder your eyes narrowed, fury irrationally rising in your throat. 

    This wasn’t because you wished James was yours instead. In fact you had considered him an idiot since you met him and would have rather drown yourself than date the loud mouth fool. You were instead jealous of the simplicity of their relationship. Envious of how they could be carefree, how they could dream of picket fences and happy futures. You hated that they could still be stupid kids. How they were given the freedom to make out in hallways and sneak into eachothers dorms with their worst consequence being a slap on the wrist and week of detention. Nothing hurt more than watching your sister live a simple life you knew you never could. 

    You stared across the room locking eyes with Regulus for only a brief moment before his darted away. Charms was dreadfully boring, the lecture practically putting you to sleep, you knew you should have been paying attention, but watching the younger Black perform the spell with ease was far more interesting. The flick of his wrist was an addicting, dull look in his eyes far more attractive than it should have been. He had woken up late that morning, his hair messier than usual. You thought it looked adorable, the way a few strands drooped in front of his lashes. He only got cuter as he blew them from his face with a pout. 

    “You have a staring problem.” Levi muttered from beside you. 

    You rolled your eyes, “Do you ever mind your own business?” 

    “Please, you make your thing for Black everyone's business.” He muttered and you kicked him under the desk. 

    Cussing at you he glared, leaning down to massage his bruising shin. 

    You wondered briefly how he would have reacted to the reveal of your relationship with your “hopeless crush” as he liked to call it. The surprise on his face would have been sweet as honey. 

    Regulus was watching you now as you continued to talk to your desk mate, he had never liked the boy, call it jealousy or anger, something bitter always rose in his throat when he saw you with him. Maybe it was because he knew your life would be so much easier if you had loved him instead. 

    “I don’t get what you see in him anyway.” Levi said, looking across at Regulus whose eyes had quickly retreated back to his parchment. 

    You grew brittle at the statement.

    “I mean I know he's attractive but if it's really about looks why not go for his brother?” He grumbled.

    You scoffed, “Please, Sirius is a piece of work.” 

    “And he isn't? I’m surprised he hasn’t called you a slur yet.” 

    Rage bubbled in your stomach, your chest feeling hot, “Shut up.” 

    Levi was either oblivious to the anger set in your tone or unbothered by it “I mean really y/n, you have a crush on a purist? It's sickening.” 

    You screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to stop the hot tears building behind them. You wanted to scream at him, slap him across the face and shout how Regulus would never do such a thing. You wanted to tell him how wrong he was, make him regret ever speaking such cold words.  But instead you looked away, wiping your tears as they came while your boyfriend sat across the room pretending you didn't exist. 

   

    You were used to it, you knew as a muggleborn dating a pureblood from a family like his would never be easy but the words still stung. That night you sobbed into Regulus’s chest as he held you in your usual hidden courtyard. 

    As your tears soaked through his sweater he felt nothing but the cold grip of guilt. He had never meant to fall in love. He had known it was a mistake the second it had happened. Even now he knew he had been wrong and stupid and naive to let himself feel so deeply for someone he could never truly be with. He would never forgive himself for forcing you into the hellish life he lived with a simple confession. He hated himself every day for it, he didn't deserve to indulge in his emotions knowing it would cause you nothing but pain. He didn't deserve you and he had known that from the start. 

    Yet every night you met, kissing under the pale moon until your lips grew numb. Everynight he found himself falling deeper and deeper into you until you filled his dreams and nightmares alike. So he forced you closer to him, knowing he would cause nothing but hurt. And you were so childishly in love you let him. 

    Later as you lay asleep on his chest, legs tangled beneath a blanket he let his own tears go, silent apologies dripping down his cheek as he tightened his grip on your waist. 

    Lily watched you from where she sat at her table, green eyes narrowed as she tried to read your mind across the dining hall. 

    “Something is definitely off.” She mumbled turning to James who stared at her with a  dopey grin. “You haven’t been listening to a word I said have you?” 

    “How can I when you’re so beautiful?” He murmured back and she scoffed, face darkening.

    Sirius gagged, “You guys are disgusting.” 

    “Christ Black, how old are you?” Lily spoke with the roll of her eyes. 

    He scrunched his nose and pretended to mock her silently only earning a sigh from Remus who sat beside him. 

    “Something is wrong with y/n, I can just feel it.” Lily continued content on ignoring Sirius. 

    “Maybe she's dating that Callahan kid.” James offered. “There’s been tons of rumors.”

    Lily scoffed, “Please, she has told me multiple times she has absolutely no interest in him.” 

    “A few months ago you were telling her you had absolutely no interest in James.” Remus offered not to look up from his book.

    Lily sputtered blushing heavily again, “That is completely different.” 

    “Sure it is.” Remus drawled, eyes peering over the cover at her. 

    Lily furrowed her brow, “But why wouldn’t she tell me? I mean I thought we've always been close.” 

    “Maybe it's not that serious.” Sirius shrugged, “Maybe they’re just fuck buddies or something.”

    Lily pulled back in disgust, “Don’t talk about my little sister like that!” she hissed as Remus kicked him under the table.

    “What? She’s almost 17! It's not like she's 12 or something, Godric.” Sirius complained and James threw a spoon at him. 

    “You know if you’re really that curious we could always just check the map.” James said looking over at Lily who was trying to set Sirius on fire with her glare. 

    She considered it for a moment, “Isn’t that kind of..” she paused “intrusive?” 

    He shrugged, “She's your little sister.” 

    The sky was dark that night as you met with Regulus. The moon was new leaving only the blinking stars to light the ground beneath you. 

    You grinned when you saw Regulus leaning against the small statue in the middle of the courtyard. You quickened your pace pulling him into a brief kiss as you met.

    “Hi.” You whispered against his lips and you felt him smile.

    “Hi.” He responded, hands on your waist pulling you closer once again. 

You tasted sweet like the nectar of the gods, soft and tender in his arms. Your hair smelt of pomegranate, your flowery perfume engulfing him. There was nothing more addicting on this world than your lips. 

You both pulled away breathless and grinning stupidly, “Your hair looks so cute like this.” You mumbled running your hands through it and tugging lightly on a curly lock that had fallen down his forehead. 

Regulus practically purred, melting into your touch. He dipped his head low to hide his blush, lips skimming the skin of your neck. 

You giggled as he mumbled a bashful thank you before nipping slightly below your ear. He was always careful to never leave marks that could be seen the following day. You wished he wasn’t. 

You felt his hands on the back of your thighs lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your nose in his hair as he walked until your back hit the wall of the castle. You scratched your nails lightly against his scalp and Regulus groaned. You gasped at the feeling of his tongue on your jaw as he pressed you further into the stone. Your legs now wrapped around his waist as he left sloppy kisses on your collar bone. 

It was then you heard the shuffle of footsteps. 

“Regulus.” You whispered and he broke away to look up at you, his lips red and glossy , “I heard someone.” 

He slowly lowered you to your feet, “You sure?” 

You nodded and you both stood silently, ears craning for another sign of life among you. After a minute you sighed, “Sorry, I must have been hearing things.” 

Regulus just shook his head grinning lightly, “ ‘s fine babe.” words slurring, intoxicated by your taste. 

Your lips reconnected, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as you began to work on the buttons of his shirt, tugging on his tie to loosen its knot. But there it was again the soft sound of feet, closer this time. 

You both paused Regulus pulling away leaving your skin feeling cold in his absence. 

“Who’s there?” He demanded into the darkness, wand lit. 

There was no response and you grabbed his hand to pull him back to you. Regulus stood his ground so you leaned into him, lips ghosting against his ear. 

“It's probably just a mouse or somethin’.” You murmured hands coming back to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt.

Regulus glanced around once more before looking down at you, “You’re probably right.”  he said before he began to untuck your blouse, hands sliding slowly under it. 

It was that which finally broke Lily, her vision going red. She stepped from beneath the invisibility cloak ignoring James' protests. 

You let out a small yelp as your sister appeared from thin air, Regulus who had his back turned to her immediately drew his wand pushing you lightly behind him. His eyes went wide as he found himself inches from your older sister. It was your turn to pull Regulus behind you. 

“Lily, What in bloody hell are you doing here?” 

When James sheepishly appeared as well you gasped, “What is wrong with you both, are you stalking me?” 

Lily looked stern, her arms crossed, “Why are you with him?” she seethed.

Your eyes narrowed, “None of your fucking buissnes. Now take your dog and leave.” 

Regulus almost didn't believe it was you that was talking. He wasn’t accustomed to the harsh tone you used, your anger hardly ever directed at him. 

“This is most certainly my business!” She spoke shrilly. 

“It is most certainly not. Now get out.” You shouted.

“How can you expect me to leave when you're getting all touchy feely with a purist?” She hissed, grabbing at your wrist to pull you away from the boy behind you.    You slapped her away so hard the sound echoed off the walls, “Call him that again around me and you’ll fucking regret it.” You growled. 

Lily stepped back surprised by your sudden aggression but not backing down, “Please y/n, I’m just calling it as it. The sooner you realise that the better.” 

Regulus felt his throat tighten as he listened, teeth biting into his lip as he had nowhere to look but his feet. 

    You stepped closer to your sister inches from her face, “Leave.” your voice struck heavy. 

    Lily responded just as harshly, “No.” 

    James shifted behind his girlfriend feeling like he was intruding on the fight which was taking place. Sensing his awkwardness you looked back at him with a searing gaze. 

    “Get out Potter, you have no place here.” You spat.

    He was planning on shuffling away when Lily turned back to him angrily, “No James stay.” 

You scoffed as he did as he was told, “Fucking pet.” 

“Don’t speak to him like that.” Lily scolded. 

“You're the one who's calling my boyfriend a purist.” You growled your mouth bitter at the taste of hypocrisy.

“Because he is one!” She bit back. “You really think he actually loves you after being raised how he was? With a mother like his?” 

Regulus felt like he had been slapped, his cheek stinging as the older girl spoke. 

 “Don’t you dare bring up his mother.”  You were shaking with rage by now, your face streaked with angry tears, “And how dare you speak ill of Regulus simply because of his upbringing as if his brother isn't one of your closest friends. How do you think Sirius would feel hearing what you just said?” 

This took Lily back a step, her rage cooling a bit as she realised her mistake, “It’s different,” She tried to recover, “He isn't with his family anymore. Sirius has already broken away from them. He made the choice any good person would.” 

Regulus felt her eyes on him as she spoke. She was no longer interested in her sister and instead focused on him. He felt like he was choking under the pressure of her stare. When he glanced up to meet her gaze he inhaled sharply. He hadn’t seen such hatred in a long time.

Your lashes were thick with tears by now, disgust and fury morphing your face, “Go fuck yourself Lily.” You spat.

She ignored you, gaze locked on Regulus, she had no intention of speaking to you anymore, “You stay away from her.” she demanded, “If you truly love her you stay away from her.”

You shouted lunging forwards and shoving your sister backwards. She stumbled back catching herself. 

It was you who fell, your feet tangling, forcing you to the ground. You hit hard, hands and knees scraping against stones and moss which made up the floor. You couldn’t find it in you to stand up simply letting exhaustion and misery take you where you lay. You shook with sobs, voice cracked and raw. Lily immediately dropped beside you, hands circling your neck as she drew you into a hug. You fought her as you always did but she held on, letting you beat her chest with your fists until you stilled.

Regulus took a step forward but was stopped by your sister whose glare told him everything he needed to know. Tears pricking his own eyes he stumbled past the two of you and disappeared into the darkness of the dungeons. He didn't hear James shout for him over the sound of the ring in his ears. He wasn’t sure where he ended up, somewhere deep in the depths of the sprawling castle, dust coated the staircase he collapsed onto. Only there did he let himself cry, choking sobs rubbing his throat raw as he looked for someone to blame. His mother for forcing him into the terrifying world of dark magic? His brother for abandoning him in his abusive home? Or your sister for pointing out the truth he prayed you would never see? Regulus wished he could pass the blame off to anyone but he wasn’t stupid, he knew he had no one to hate but himself. 

Regulus disappeared entirely for three days. Three days you spent desperately avoiding your sister who seemed just as adamant to talk to you again. You skipped meals opting for hunger instead risking meeting her in the hall. She would show up outside your classes forcing you to scramble out the back way or sprint away like a child running from punishment. 

On the fourth day of your boyfriend's absence you felt yourself beginning to panic. Fear of him never returning, filling your head with irrational thoughts. It wasn’t like you could ask around for him, your relationship needed to remain secret despite the difficulties you were facing. It was then Lily cornered you. 

You stared at the redhead as she blocked your only exit. “Lily, move.” You sighed exhausted by the past few days, sleepless nights not improving your condition. 

She didn't listen, “Y/n we need to talk.” 

"About what?" You scoffed, "I have nothing to say to you.” 

“I just want you to understand why I,” She paused, “Why I said what I did.” 

“I don't care why you said it Lily.” You said, “I don’t care if you think you were protecting me or saving me from some hopeless relationship. I honestly don’t care.” 

Her eyes swelled, “How can you say that? How can you not care? I love you y/n I just want you to be safe.” 

You stared at her, “I just don’t understand why you couldn’t just let me be happy.”

“He’s dangerous.” 

You shook your head, “No, his family is dangerous. His situation is dangerous. He’s not.” 

“Y/n please.” She begged, for what you did not know. 

“Just stay out of my shit Lily.” you mumbled pushing past her and back into the hallway. 

You spent the night where you always had, the small courtyard hidden between two towers of the castle, a statue of a woman draped in vines and flowers at its center. The moon was a small sliver, a dusting of clouds blocking the stars from your view. The shuffle of footsteps brought your eyes from the ground. 

There stood Regulus, his face shining in the pale light. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, nose pointed at the floor as he refused to meet your gaze. 

You stood quickly throwing your hands around his neck. He leaned into your touch burying his head into your shoulder as his hands found your waist. 

You smelled delightful as always, your lips soft against his cheek and hands in his hair. Regulus hadn’t realized he was crying until you began to comfort him. Sweet words whispered into his ear as you only held him tighter. 

“She’s right, you know.” He croaked, lifting his head to look at you. “You shouldn’t be around me.” 

You shook your head feverishly, “You’re wrong Reggy.”

“I don’t deserve you y/n, I don’t deserve to be with you.” He sobbed, “I could never deserve you.” 

“You’re right, love.” You mumbled, smiling through the tears that coated your cheeks, “You deserve so much better.” 

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

taglist:@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @coldlilheart @suseptiable-bur-siriusexual @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa @rosieweasleyy @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines @princess-jules47 @daedreamss @d22malfoys

navi

[maybankxw]

Are you taking requests? If so could you possibly make a jj and reader having rough sex at the chauto and kiera finds them and is really hurt by it cuz she had feeling for jj?

Sorry if that is to specific or doesn't make sense

thank you, I love your work <3

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings: mature content ahead! [ oral, female receiving; unprotected sex; breeding; ] minors dni!!!

summary: sneaking at the chateau behind everyone’s backs; lie finding out

word count: 1.6k

a/n: thanks for requesting! enjoy!

links: masterlist / taglist / ask box

any feedback (comments, reblogs, anon asks) would be appreciated!

“You know I love you, right?” JJ’s lips traveled up my neck, his body pressing mine from behind, huge palms pushing my dress up to my waist and squeezing my bare hips.

“Yeah, why?” a secret smile crossed my face as I ground my ass against his hardening cock, seducing and tempting him. 

“Cause I’m going to fuck you like I don’t.”

I felt my underwear dampening, the inner sides of my thighs slick with arousal, nipples tightening painfully and he hasn’t even began. My dress went over my head and down the floor, he stood bare chested, his shorts clinging to his hips.

I gasped, when he lifted me off the ground and propped onto the bed. Belt buckle clinked and the rest of his clothes disappeared. He loomed over me, his eyes darkening with lust, muscles flexing in the faint glow the bedside lamp casted on us.

We sneaked into the chateau, while everyone was busy swimming and drinking at the bonfire night. Me and JJ had been dating and fucking for a while now and no one knew, no one even noticed. We weren’t certain about telling our friends, because I knew Kie had a huge crush on J and we didn’t want to ruin our friendship. We promised to come up with a plan, but the plan never developed, so we just kept on sneaking around. It was more fun anyways.

“Oh yeah?” I raised my eyebrows, biting my lip, my fingers wrapping around his cock, hard, precum oozing from his tip. I stroked him slowly, my eyes bore into his, eliciting low sounds from the back of his throat.

“Hell, yeah,” he removed my hand, diving into my neck, nibbling the soft skin, his thumbs grazed my nipples and he squeezed my tits in his palms, making me arch towards him. This earned me a chuckle from him, the deep rumble of his voice electrified me. JJ kissed my throat, bit my jaw, finding his way to my lips. My cheeks burned, my fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down, craving his touch, his scent, everything, him.

“When do you think they notice we’re gone?” I asked, panting as he dragged a path down with his tongue, sucking my breasts into his mouth, one at a time, releasing them with sloppy sounds, leaving them wet and throbbing. Kisses landed on my stomach, his palms felt heavy on my hips, fingers gripped the hem of my underwear and he slipped it down, allowing to rest around my ankles.

“Fuck,” he cursed, watching me glistening in the lamplight, my clit swollen, begging to be touched. He lifted himself back to meet my face, “I don’t fucking care, baby, I don’t even care if they walk in on us,” his thumb brushed my slit, causing a moan to spill out of me, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Abruptly, he pushed my legs apart, his head in between them, his hot breaths burning my skin. Anticipation slithered through my whole damn body and I fought an urge to thrust my hips upward, “JJ please.”

“Please what?” he peppered my inner thighs with wet sloppy kisses as I clutched the sheets in my fists. His eyes locked with mine, “Please what?”

“Fuck me, or I’ll do it myself.”

His eyes turned molten with desire and he licked a path up my cunt, drawing a moan out of me. I was blinded with lust, drunk on his touch and his voice and dirty whispers, I didn’t care if anyone heard us.

“As much as I’d love to watch that, I’ll save your offer for later, ‘cause,” he teased me with his tongue, spreading me open, pushing inside, “This,” he sucked my clit in and I bowed my back, “Is only for me.”

Thick fingers invaded me, and I clenched on them, feeling the burning in my stomach growing heavier. He fucked me slow and deliberate, grazing my clit with his mouth, hitting my spot with his fingers, then backing away, pulling out, taunting grin stretching on his lips.

“We’ve fucked for months now,” he thrust in, curling his fingers, “And every fucking time,” his thumb flicked my clit and I whimpered, grasping the blanket, “You’re so tight and so fucking wet, open to me, taking me in so well. A crying mess whenever I put my hands on you.”

I felt the wave of pleasure approaching me, my eyes pleading for him to keep going.

His face levelled mine, his fingers still working down on me, his whispers wrapping around my moans, “And you know what that means?” his lips brushed mine as he kept rubbing my clit relentlessly, “That means you’re mine.”

I came. His hisses of ‘fuck, yes’ spurred me to come harder, my thighs closed around his arm and he let go of me. 

His knees propped between my legs as he leisurely stroked his cock, savouring the view in front of him, his free hand caressed my thigh, “A dream. You’re my fucking dream.”

Heavy palms grabbed my ass and he dragged me close, teasing my cunt with the tip of his cock, making my jaws clench, my fists tighten on the blanket I desperately held onto, “JJ, enough teasing, plea—“ He sank into me in one insistent push, making me cry out, my eyes squeeze shut and my spine arch off the bed.

“You asked,” he chuckled, so lowly, his voice shaded with desire as he moved in and out of me, pulling out to the edge and sinking in deep again. My stomach burned, my fingers ran through the ashy blonde strands dump with sweat, that’s when I realised he had to hold himself back, while he was getting me off. He fucked me hard, like he promised, arms braced over headboard, which banged against the wall. 

“JJ,” I bent his head so he could look at me, my legs wrapping around his waist as I angled myself for him to go in deeper, “Fuck,” I whispered, squeezing his cock, earning an awaited growl, “I love you too.” The air thickened, his thrusts made me clench up, the scent of him, musky and sweaty clouded my mind, his growls mixed with my whimpers filled the room. My fingers darted to my clit and I rubbed it in circles, feeling the knot in my stomach unraveling, “Hell yeah, touch yourself, baby.”

He stared down as he bucked his hips forward, as my index and middle fingers flicked my clit, as I dug my heels into his butt cheeks to bring him closer to me.

A wave of pleasure shot through my body, I felt his teeth digging into my shoulder as he tried to muffle his groans triggering mine. I screamed louder, feeling his cock twitch, his thrusts growing sloppier, thick cum spilling inside me. He licked the bite marks he left, soothing my skin, kissing his way up my throat, “I love how you scream for me,” he grinned, claiming my lips, pushing his tongue into my mouth, still moving back and forth just a bit.

“You do, huh?” I smiled back at him and he pulled out, his cock brushed my stomach and I felt the cum dripping out of me and down the sheets, “We will have to clean those, I—“

“Hey, are you in there?” 

I leapt up, pushing my dress back on, JJ found his shorts and dragged them up his legs. We looked like a fucking mess, the room smelled like sex, it was obvious we weren’t reading a bedtime story to each other.

It was Kiara, the handle turned and the door creaked open, my eyes shutting closed for a few seconds, foreseeing the upcoming fight.

“Why did you—“ she stopped in an instant, her eyes darting between my tangled hair and JJ’s naked torso, “Are you fucking kidding me?” she gritted, her nostrils flared, then she turned and walked away, slamming the door shut.

I rubbed my temples and took a deep breath in, fixing my dress and my hair, “I’m gonna deal with this, okay?” I planted a kiss on JJ’s cheek, my nails running down his bare chest, “Hope it won’t take long. Stay here.”

Swallowing hard, I stepped out of the room, looking for Kiara, “Kie! Kie, where are you, let’s just talk!” After scanning every room, I found her sitting outside on the porch, she sat there in the dark, staring straight before her, “Leave me alone.”

“Not until we talk.”

“I don’t want to fucking talk, get the fuck out of here,” she yelled in my face, hurt and anger crossing her face. 

“You don’t have a right to fucking yell at me,” I bit back, “It’s not like he was your boyfriend, you were dating Pope, Kiara.”

Abruptly she sat down, “I never should have trusted you. Go.”

“Fine, you want me gone, okay, but I’m gonna speak first. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, we didn’t tell anyone, we—“

“How long?”

“Months.”

“You knew I liked him.”

“We never planned for it to be anything big, we got drunk, we slept, it went further, you were dating Pope at the time, but I love him, Kie, I love him.”

She let out a heavy sigh and turned to face me, “You do?”

“I do.”

“I need time.”

“Okay.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“Okay.”

She let out a faint laugh, “So is he good in bed, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” I shoved her to the side playfully, and we chuckled, her head came to rest on my shoulder and we stared further as the waves splashed to the shore.

tags: @icedcold @maybankforlife @novxturient @mackenzielovee @alwaysclassyeagle @kaelibaby @sunset-styles @nope-thanks @absolute-fcking-chaos @tomhollandlol @langcvn @blue-4-55-readinglist @loveyru @rottenstyx @lovin-aurelia @rafecameronswhore @sansasdove @herejustforjj @ameliaalvarez06 @my-baexht-ls @luversgirl @wannabestarkeysgirl @liamthedunbar @hiitslee @instabull @dudenhaaa27 @jessmaybank @ofherscarlettwitchways

[hopelesshawks]

Can I request a Compress x Reader? Babytrapping + Breeding?

Ohhh interesting, of course you can! I rarely write for the villains so this will be fun. You didn’t specify but because baby trapping I did fem!reader. I also just realized you might’ve meant reader baby trapping Compress but I wrote Compress baby trapping reader so I hope that’s what you wanted 😅

The following request contains dark content. Check the warnings before reading

Warnings for vomiting, pregnancy, manipulation, non-violent sexual assault (baby trapping), breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), minor dumbification? (reader is very no thoughts, head empty during the smut), minor size kink, minor pain kink

Three years.

Three years together and yet you never would’ve guessed that your boyfriend is the notorious Mr. Compress of League of Villains infamy.

You first met Atsuhiro while working at a hole in the wall theater company. He came up to you after performing one night and had been so effortlessly charming that you’d instantly been put under his spell. He was more intelligent than all of your exes combined and could make you laugh like no one else could. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall totally and completely for the charming man you met that night.

But all of that came crashing down around you when he came home from a “business trip” with a prosthetic arm and no amount of half-assed excuses about an accident on stage could assuage your suspicions. He managed to dodge a confrontation with you for almost a week before you’d finally put the final pieces together and went to him to demand an explanation.

“You’re a terrorist Atsu!”

“That’s just what the heroes want you to think my love, don’t fall for their propaganda.”

“It’s not propaganda it’s just a fact! People have died because of your actions!”

“And how many more have suffered or died because of heroes and the society they created.”

“You’re deflecting. I have always indulged your rants about hero society but this is too far! The man I fell in love with would never stoop to this level!”

Atsuhiro crosses the room to you in two quick strides, cradling your face gently with his hand while you feel the cool metal of his other find your hip, fingers slipping under your shirt.

“I’m still the man you fell in love with (y/n), I can assure you of that,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How could that possibly be?”

“Let me show you.”

He pulls you into a gentle kiss, reassuring in its care. As his lips move against yours, gently coaxing them to open so he can deepen the kiss and slip his tongue inside, you struggle to maintain your earlier anger. It’s a distraction and you know it is but it’s hard to resist as he starts to move you both back towards your bedroom. He makes quick work of your clothes and by the time your back hits the plush of your mattress you’re both already naked. His mouth finally releases yours to travel down your body, leaving bruises in his wake as he marks you as his.

“Atsu, wait we should, ah-” you start but he quickly shushes you before licking a long stripe up your waiting sex.

“Just relax Angel, let me take care of you. Let your thoughts drift away,” he all but purrs.

You try to focus on the conversation you know the two of you need to have but it slips from your fingers like grains of sand as he brings one hand to your swollen clit and starts rubbing slow circles. Your hands tighten in the sheets as he draws a low, keening whine out of you. His hazel eyes dance with smug satisfaction as he watches you try and fail to form a coherent thought. He doesn’t let up the pressure on your clit for even a moment as he drops his mouth to your waiting cunt and plunges his tongue inside. Your hand flies down to his curly hair on impulse, tangling in the brown locks and gripping tight. Your nails scratch along his scalp and your tight grip tugs at the roots of his hair but he loves the pain of it, knows it’s a sign he’s doing well as he brings up his free hand to add two fingers inside you as well. After so long together he knows your body just as well as you do and it takes no time at all for him to find that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your climax builds and builds until you finally crash through the peaks of your pleasure, walls fluttering around your lover’s tongue and fingers as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

You’ve barely had time to recover from your orgasm before you can feel his erection pressing at your entrance. “W-wait, Atsu, condom,” you pant, shifting in the bed to reach for the bedside drawer but Atsuhiro stops you. “We don’t need it baby, wanna feel closer to you,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your face as he eases you back down to laying flat on the bed. “But what if-” “You’re on birth control right?” he cuts you off. “I mean yea but-” “Then it’ll be fine, you worry too much.”

Any further protests you might’ve had are immediately silenced as a snap of your boyfriend’s hips has the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. You gasp as your body attempts to adjust to his girth. “You’re taking me so well baby, isn’t this so much better? Feel how close we are. Nothing between us, just as it should be,” he coos and it does feel good, good enough that despite the voice in your head telling you you should be cautious, you only nod and beg for more. The grin Atsuhiro gives you is almost blinding right before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you greedily as he slowly withdraws his hard cock before pushing back inside you again. You whimper and whine into his mouth as he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust more brutal than the last. Eventually he leans back and away from you, shifting your hips so he can plunge himself in deeper, but with his lips no longer occupied with yours he’s free to let his thoughts spill out and into the room:

“Gonna fill you up so well, fuck, my beautiful Angel.”

“You and me forever baby, gonna look so good round with my kids.”

“Taking my cock so well, can’t wait until you’re full of my seed.”

The words wash over you but barely register. There’s no room in your brain left for anything else as Atsuhiro takes over every corner of it. Language becomes a foreign concept to you, barely able to articulate your own pleasure in more than the sinful sounds dripping from your lips, let alone trying to process your boyfriend’s ramblings. His thrusts start getting sloppier as he brings one hand between you both to stroke your clit and push you over the edge with him. “I’m so close angel, I’m so close. Cum with me. Want you to finish with me while I stuff you full of my cum,” he pants and all you can do is nod as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. As you clench harder around him he goes toppling over the edge first, crying out your name as he spills his load inside you. You never would’ve anticipated enjoying it so much but it’s that feeling that sends you over the edge, falling apart around his cock as he finishes filling you with his cum.

He helps you come down from your high with sweet kisses and whispered words of encouragement, but as the haze of lust fades, you start to remember the fight you both were having before. As much as you would like for this to be the kind of thing you can just kiss and make up over, it’s not and you know it’s a conversation that needs to be finished. Looking at your boyfriend as he settles more comfortably on top of you though, you can’t bring yourself to ruin the moment. Sleep is weighing heavy on your eyelids anyway so you resolve yourself to bring it up the next day.

Except the next day ends the same way.

And the day after that.

And the day after that…

Every time you try to bring back up Atsuhiro’s secret double life as Mr. Compress he manages to distract you just long enough to get you back into bed. At first you tell yourself it’s not a big deal that the conversation’s been delayed a couple days, but then it turns into a week. A week of very hot sex, mind you, but if the existence of Atsuhiro’s double life was a red flag then certainly his insistence on avoiding discussing it is an even larger one. After two weeks you finally resolve yourself to talking to him the next morning over breakfast, no distractions and no avoiding the issue with sex. Cooking helps with your nerves, giving you something to do with your hands and a task to focus on to help you ignore your roiling stomach. You end up making almost an entire breakfast buffet by the time Atsuhiro emerges from your shared bedroom to join you in the kitchen.

He barely has time to tell you good morning before you’re rushing him to the table and setting plates full of food down. You know you have to tread carefully so you use the time you both spend eating to organize your thoughts. This time for sure you’ll talk to him. You finally open your mouth to confront Atsuhiro once and for all but as you feel bile start to crawl up your throat what comes out instead is “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

No sooner have you said the words are you shoving away from the table and rushing into the nearest bathroom. You get to the toilet just in time, fingers clutching the rim of the bowl as you violently eject the contents of your stomach into the water below. It burns your throat coming up and your eyes sting, but a warm, comforting presence is by your side in an instant, one hand coming up to rub your back gently as the other pulls your hair away from your face. Only once your stomach is thoroughly emptied does the heaving finally stop and you’re able to sit back and catch your breath. “Are you ok my love? What’s wrong?” Atsuhiro asks with gentle care as he pulls you close. You shake your head, unsure yourself of what had turned your stomach. Sure, you were nervous to talk to Atsuhiro but not that nervous. It can’t have been something you ate since all you’d had was the breakfast you made and you know everything was cooked properly. You rack your brain for an answer only to go rigid when you start to settle on one.

“Atsu what’s the date?”

“The 22nd baby, why?”

Your blood runs cold.

You’d been so preoccupied with figuring out things with Atsuhiro that you hadn’t even noticed how much time was slipping past but there’s no doubt about it. Your period is two weeks late.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” you whisper. No way in hell you’ll leave this up to a drugstore test. There must be another explanation for your sudden nausea. Sure, you and Atsuhiro had pretty much abandoned condoms. Every time you started to reach for one, he’d remind you how good it felt not to use one the first time and convince you to forgo it again. But you’re on birth control! This isn’t supposed to be possible.

God bless him, Atsuhiro doesn’t press you any further on why exactly you want to go to the doctor instead of trying to find something at home to settle your stomach. He simply helps you off the floor and then grabs the keys to your car so he can drive you to the doctor himself. You’re incredibly grateful that he doesn’t seem to share your nerves. He’s a calming presence next to you as your anxiety kicks into overdrive.

You’d asked Atsuhiro to take a seat without you while you checked into the urgent care. You didn’t want him to hear you describe your symptoms to the nurse waiting there. The kind woman immediately suspects the same thing you do and leads you to the bathroom so you can pee in a cup. She’s sympathetic and reassuring as she tells you to return to the waiting room while the doctor runs the pregnancy test but it does little to soothe your frayed nerves. The air in the waiting room feels oppressive and when your name is finally called to go back and see the doctor, Atsuhiro’s hand in yours is probably the only thing that keeps you grounded. You take a seat on the examination table and instead of moving to sit down in one of the chairs in the room, Atsu stays by your side, whispering reassurances into your ear. “Whatever’s going on I’m here for you my love.”

The doctor strides into the room shortly afterwards, greeting you warmly even if somewhat absentmindedly as she moves to the computer to check for your details. She confirms your date of birth and then after scrolling for a bit her eyes finally land on the results of your test. She smiles and your heart sinks. “Well it looks like congratulations are in order, you’re pregnant!” she exclaims, beaming at you. A lump forms in your throat as tears threaten to fall, anxiety making your hands shake as the weight of the situation starts to crash down on you. The doctor misinterprets your reaction and as she leaves the room to get you pamphlets on what to expect and how best to take care of yourself during your pregnancy, her reassuring words that promise you’ll make a great mother are anything but.

As soon as the doctor leaves the room you break, tears cascading down your cheeks as your chest heaves. Atsuhiro pulls you into his embrace, letting you fall apart in his arms as you come to terms with the news. “I’m not ready to be a mom, I can’t do it on my own,” you cry, hands clenching onto his shirt. “I know my love, I know, but you’ll never be alone as long as you have me. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you,” he assures you, pulling you in even closer.

As you continue to cry into his chest, murmuring hiccuping thank you’s between heaving sobs, Atsuhiro can’t help but smile to himself.

He’ll have to remember to thank Dr. Garaki for the fake birth control pills later.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @larkspyrr @oliviasslut @black-rose-29

[spiderlilyserendipity]

Obviously, pretty!

JJK x female reader

Tags: established relationship, rainy day sex, washing dishes together, soft domestic things yk, probably the most vanilla smut i’ve ever written on this account hahaha thank u for cleansing my mind with ur request anon, forehead kisses, i didn’t need to tag that but i Needed to tag that u feel me?

Warnings: none

WC: 2137

If there’s anything you know about your boyfriend, it’s that if he can’t go to the gym, he will pout all day.

After going too hard in dance practice, Jungkook ends up too sore to go to the gym one day. His trainer must’ve heard from the choreographer that Jungkook overdid himself, which is why Jungkook’s trainer told him their session for today was cancelled.

“What am I supposed to dooo if I can’t work out on my day off!” Jungkook complains, wrapping his arms around your waist as you wash dishes.

“You could help your wife clean the house.” You joke, knowing it’s your turn to wash dishes anyway since Jungkook made breakfast (or rather brunch) this morning.

You feel Jungkook smile, his cheek fluffing up where it’s pressed against yours. His face gets a little hot whenever you call yourself his wife, but you know he likes it. The two of you are college sweethearts, starting to date in secret shortly after meeting in first year. Fast forward six years and everything has changed. Your doe-eyed college boyfriend is no longer just an idol but part of the most successful band in the world. And not only that, he’s getting a master’s in business, a slightly confusing decision but one that you respect nonetheless.

You yourself have changed, too. You’re now a business woman, working in a skyscraper in Seoul, and doing considerably well for being only two years out of college. You make good money, and Jungkook does too, and you share this high-rise apartment together. Every year, you and Jungkook sneak away to Busan at least once or twice to meet his parents and your own parents have already begun asking when they’re getting grandchildren. So it’s safe to say it’ll only be a matter of time until Jungkook puts a ring on it anyway.

No one knows, but that’s what makes it special.

“Can’t do that.” Jungkook answers, pretending like your flirting didn’t affect him.

You smile as you rinse another plate off. “Why’s that?”

“It’s raining. If I do work while it rains I’ll get sleepy.” Jungkook pouts.

You laugh, rinsing a cloth under the tap and putting it in his hand. “Go wipe down the stovetop. It should be cold by now.”

Obediently, Jungkook lets go of you to do as you said. But you realize he hasn’t let the joke go when he pouts at you. “Okay, work done. Let’s go lay down.”

“Baby, you’ve literally done concerts in the rain.” You tell him.

“I don’t even do concerts. I’m a business major.” Jungkook lies unconvincingly, his cheeks turning pink. You giggle, finishing up the last of the dishes.

“Fine, you big baby. Let’s go lay down.” You take his hand and lead him back to the bedroom. Jungkook shuts the door behind you. You take off the sweatshirt you were wearing to wash dishes (one of Jungkook’s), tossing it aside.

“Babe, that’s not neat!” Jungkook insists, but you whirl around and quiet him with a long kiss.

“You didn’t ask me to come here to do our laundry, Jungkookie. You and I both know that.” You tell him. Jungkook bites his lip, looking at your pretty lips.

“I guess that’s true.” He grins, and you grin back.

You wrap your arms around his neck and Jungkook leans down, picking you up into his arms with ease. You wrap your legs around his waist as he bounces you in place slightly, hands cupping your ass softly. You love many things about Jungkook, but you especially love how special he makes you feel each time.

Jungkook lays you down like a newlywed bride, pressing soft kisses on your cheeks, forehead, even your nose.

You giggle at him and he smiles down at you, warm and safe and entirely Jungkook. “I love you.” You whisper, stroking your thumb along his cheekbone, admiring that little scar on his cheek for the millionth time.

“Not as much as I love you.” Jungkook says, laying himself down on top of you and starting to kiss you again, this time with more passion.

“Hhh, Jungkook.” You whimper, tangling a hand in his hair.

When you separate this time, Jungkook sits up to take off his shirt. You run your hand down his sculpted abdomen, over his sweet, pretty waist and his toned stomach. You sit up to kiss along his chest, making him hiss as you make love marks in places his shirt will cover. No one knows, except you two. And you love it like that.

Jungkook tucks his hands under the light tank top you’re wearing, making you gasp at how cold his hands are. Jungkook laughs under his breath at your reaction. “I told you rainy days are bad for me.”

“Well that’s why I’m here to warm you up.” You joke, which makes Jungkook giggle.

“What would I do without you?” He says exaggeratedly, but his eyes tell you he means it. With that, Jungkook begins kissing along your neck as he works your tank top up. Since it’s just the two of you, you seldom wear a bra around the house. You moan as Jungkook pulls the tank top over your head, then in one swift motion presses you down into the bed.

Jungkook slots his thigh between your legs as he starts kissing you lower. He licks and bites gently at your nipples, making you writhe in pleasure. You watch through half-lidded eyes as he makes love marks on the tops of your breasts and around them, kissing down your stomach to your shorts.

He glances up at you for consent, and you nod.

He pulls your shorts and panties off in one clean movement, tossing them to the side despite having just told you to be neater. You grin at Jungkook’s eagerness, but the smile slides off your face when Jungkook wraps his lips around your clit.

Slowly, Jungkook gets you wetter and wetter until your inner thighs are shiny with arousal. Only when you’re whimpering does Jungkook insert his fingers into you, one to ease you and then a second to stretch you. Even after all this time, Jungkook pays special attention to your body.

He’s so slow and gentle today that you actually get a bit needy. “Jungkookie.” You sigh. Jungkook sits up, knowing that you’re already close.

“I know, baby. You’re doing so well.” Jungkook praises, kissing you all over, down your neck and along your collarbone. You watch as Jungkook takes his sweats and underwear off, then grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer. You stopped using condoms when you moved in together (around two years ago) since you’re on birth control. Jungkook always has you ready to take him after some foreplay, but he’s told you he dislikes doing it without lube.

You watch Jungkook lube himself up, then align himself to your entrance. He places one palm on the side of your waist, kissing you quickly on the forehead. “Ready?” He checks with you again. You nod.

You pant quietly as Jungkook enters, both from arousal and his size. It has been years since you did this together for the first time, but Jungkook’s size is always a surprise to you somehow. You like to be stubborn and say you don’t need lube to take him, but you both know you’d need at least a bit for his size.

You pull him in even closer, burying his head in your shoulder. As he bottoms out, you moan his name quietly.

Jungkook smirks, knowing he has you in the palm of his hand. You pull him in for a kiss, this one full of tongue and passion. Jungkook feels your desperation and lets you have control for a moment, just to let you burn off steam. But then, he’s angling his head in and pressing you into the pillow, and you don’t stand a chance under how good he’s making you feel.

“Baby, I need it.” You beg breathlessly. Jungkook smiles faintly at your shyness to say the word “come” in bed, even after all this time.

“Need what, baby?” He teases you, knowing full well you’ll never use dirty talk unless he pushes you to that point. You whine at his teasing. Jungkook kisses your shoulder. “I’m kidding. I know my pretty girl is too shy for words like that.”

“I’m not shy!” You protest shyly. “We-We’re having sex right now! I’m not shy at all!”

Jungkook snorts. “Great observation, genius. Any other amazingly dirty comments?”

You’re starting to squirm under Jungkook’s intense gaze, knowing you always lose at this game. “I want to have a baby!” You announce.

Jungkook laughs. “Give me time to buy a ring at least.”

You’re shocked. “Really?” You ask, eyes wide like someone who Christmas came early for.

Jungkook flicks your nipple with one hand, making you cry out. “Obviously, pretty.” He says confidently, making you think he’s thought about it before. You blush and Jungkook looks at you like you’re an angel he’s captured in his own hands. “Now if you’re done being raunchy and nasty, can we get off? My hips were already sore but having a conversation in this position is even worse than the gym.”

“Baby!” You gasp, scandalized.

Jungkook pretends to look scandalized too. “I said let me buy a ring first!”

You groan into his shoulder, knowing he won again. Jungkook laughs, then starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts.

You let out little strings of moans and pants as Jungkook continues to fill you up and make you feel good. You wrap your arms around Jungkook’s back, holding him close as he fucks into you. You tilt your head back and close your eyes at the pleasure. All you hear are Jungkook’s moans and the rain falling outside your window. At one moment, you wonder if it’s cold out, but then you realize it doesn’t matter. You’re warmer than anything else in Jungkook’s strong arms.

“J-Jungkook--” You feel the pleasure building, about to come.

“I know, baby.” Jungkook says, laying you down all the way again and holding you under his weight as he picks up his pace. Jungkook looks at you, watching your face tighten at every euphoric thrust. “Doing so well baby, almost there. Fuck, my pretty girl.” He showers you in praise and kisses, words falling from his mouth so fast you know he isn’t filtering any of his thoughts at the moment. You love that too, you love everything about him.

Finally, Jungkook’s hips begin to stutter, and he reaches down to rub your clit. You arch your back as you come, Jungkook filling you up shortly after. As you come down from your highs, Jungkook rolls over onto his side, still inside you. He spoons you, tugging the covers on top for a quiet moment.

You find it surprising since Jungkook is quite fussy about cleanliness, wanting to get you in the shower and to air out the room relatively soon after sex. But today he doesn’t even slip his cock out of you, choosing to be nestled deep inside you. It feels warm, but you like it.

“K-Kookie. Why aren’t we getting cleaned up?” You ask.

Jungkook smiles at your tone with his eyes closed. “If you want to get pregnant we have to keep the come inside, don’t we?” He says. You smack his arms which are wrapped around your waist, making him chuckle.

Jungkook cranes his head to make eye contact with you. You look at his sweaty bangs which Jungkook pushed back from his face near the end but fell back onto his forehead messily anyway. It’s the most beautiful sight you know. “Just kidding. I’m just tired today. We’ll shower after resting for a bit, unless you don’t like this.”

You realize now that Jungkook must truly be exhausted from work yesterday. You cup his face, stroking it quietly. “I don’t… hate it.” You admit.

Jungkook’s eyes darken. “Watch your words, pretty girl.” He warns you. “I only have so much self-control and your dad will beat my ass if I get you pregnant without putting a ring on it.”

“Do you really have to go and mention my dad right now?” You whine. “And anyway, no one can beat your ass. You’re 6 feet of solid muscle and have a sleeve tattoo, no one would try.”

Jungkook laughs. “Okay fair, no more mentioning my father-in-law from now on.” He says, making you groan in complaint again. Jungkook smiles fondly at you. “But you know I meant that, right? I want to marry you someday and have kids and all that. I don’t know when, since you and I are so busy, but maybe when things slow down we can. Okay?”

You snort. “Obviously, pretty!"

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[jangofctts]

Anything at All (boba fett x fem!reader) (part one) (part two) 

Rated: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: smut, even mORE thrONE fucking, oral sex (f receiving), boba’s a biter, unprotected sex (dont be silly, wrap thAT wiLLY), vaginal fingering, explicit language, boba is a grouchy dom kwjhgjh       

a/n: anyway I think yall forget im a writer and not just a Certified Clown, but anywAy here we be. HAPPY NEW YEARS ya FILTHY anIMALS im so thankful for all yall and im glad I can provide you with some entertainment kaejhejhr

  You haven’t seen Boba Fett in days. 

Called away on business you’ll never be included in or know the fine details about. It’s not kept away from you because he doesn’t trust you, or thinks you’re a mindless idiot—no—he’d rather keep his princess occupied with prettier things. No need to concern yourself with the the underbelly of what he now rules. 

You’re not upset about it—you’re not really a fan of watching petty squabbles that’ll result in someone’s chest being imploded by a blaster. You’ve seen enough of it in the cantina, and while you were never the one tasked with clearing the bodies out—it was still mildly traumatizing. Eh—no need to dwell. 

You’ve got other shit to do anyway. 

There’s a seemingly endless zigzag of secret hallways and dusty rooms within the palace, teeming with strange knickknacks and ancient artifacts that are more than likely cursed. Definitely haunted—but it doesn’t stop you from exploring or sorting through the useless junk. Besides—Fennec stayed behind, acting as your glorified babysitter for the past few cycles—ensuring your safety from both whoever dared step foot into the palace and the ghosts. What a lovely woman. 

Speaking of which—you hear her sigh and shuffle, shifting her weight onto her other foot as she leans back against a dusty crate. She picks at the dirt beneath her fingernails, lazily glancing up every now and then to check that you haven’t eviscerated yourself on a piece of scrap metal or something. Lucky for her, all you found today was an abandoned crate of old datapacs shoved in the back corner from what you assumed to be some sort of office. Yesterday you found a sword that was promptly confiscated.  

“I’d be careful snooping around in those,” Fennec warns as your fingers find the on switch. “You never know what sorta data the Hutts were keeping here.”

You shrug and wave away her concern, reading over the information that flickers across the screen. “I think I’ll be ok…See?” You pointedly wave the datapac in her direction. “This one is about the finances. Spooky.”    

Fennec rolls her eyes followed by an amused smirk that ghosts over her lips. You toss it aside and root around some more, pulling out another datapac. The blue hologram flickers to life and as you decipher the little lines of text your face falls. Each line is a name, previous and recently bought or traded people that crossed the threshold of the palace. Fennec was right. This isn’t fun anymore.    

“These are…slaves.” Your lips curls in disgust. “How is this still not outlawed? It’s barbaric.”      

“You’re not from Tatooine, are you?” Fennec asks as she meanders over and wrestles the datapac out of your hands. She switches it off and tosses it back into the dusty crate. You huff and cross your arms over your chest.  

“No,” you agree. “Im from Arkanis. But even there we don’t have slaves.” 

Fennec squats beside you, her elbows resting over her bent knees. She playfully taps your shoulder with the back of her hand and quirks a brow. “What’d I tell you—snooping doesn’t do anyone any good.”

You roll your eyes and shrug, a frown still etched on your lips. Fennec sighs, rubs her chin and then reaches out to push a stray hair behind your ear. A flush blooms up your cheeks at the gentle touch. 

“You have a sensitive soul, Kitten,” she chuckles, poking at your cheek that you’re certain she can feel the heat emirate from. “You said you were from Arkanis—tell me about it. Why come to Tatooine?”

Your lips quirk in a tiny smile as you bat away her pointer finger, saving your cheek from another poke. “Hey—not everyone likes rain ok?” You huff. “Besides, Tatooine wasn’t supposed to be permanent.”

She nods. Unsure what exactly to tell her--a silence ensues. It’s not terribly awkward but it’s enough that makes you jumpy and itching to move on from this room now stained with information you weren’t prepared on finding. You stand suddenly, brush yourself off and mutter under your breath about finding something less…heartbreaking. 

Fennec jumps up as well and when you leave the room her hand clamps over your shoulder. She spins you around and levels her gaze onto you. “You’re free to leave whenever you like. You know that right?”

Your brows furrow. “I know—don’t worry, I want to stay.”

Her head bobs with a satisfied nod. “We’d miss you if you left. You’re nice to have around.”

You blush again and mumble out a thank you, shooting off into another unexplored location to escape Fennec’s knowing smirk. Maker—you’re embarrassing.  

                               -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Boba returns later that afternoon—the shadow of his familiar figure stretches around the curved stairway, the purposeful stomps of his boots against the carved steps following with it. Your heart flutters within your chest, like a distressed creature with wings as you jump from your makeshift seat.

You come face to face with Boba. Or, helmet rather—whatever. 

The smell of hot metal and dry air sticks to him as he paces closer, closing the small gap that separates him from you. You’re frozen beneath the heavy weight of his stare behind the void like black of his visor as he plants himself firmly before you, close enough that his cuirass could brush your chest if he puffed out his own chest.   

“Hi…” You smile, a fragile vale of uncertainty blanketing the pair of you—still attempting to feel out his mood, sort through the general gruffness of his personality and gage wether or not you could reach out and touch him. The helmet is a tricky thing to read and his body language gives nothing away. You swallow your nerves take a leaping risk.   

“Let me see your face.” You murmur. You move your hands up to the edges of his helmet at a snail’s pace, giving him ample time to slip through your fingers—wedge a sharp thorn between whatever it is that you’ve built and name it for what it is.

He doesn’t choose that option. 

With a low hum, Boba dips his helmet closer to your outstretched fingertips instead. The metal is cool under your palms as they fold over the sides of the helmet and pull up. The metal whispers against his skin like wind through tall grass as the point of his chin peeks out, followed by his lips, his nose, and finally those golden brown eyes. They glitter with amusement as you release a shaky breath, the helmet the only thing acting as a barrier as you clutch it near your sternum. His mouth quirks when you blush and glance away—focusing on the little silvery nicks the green paint refused to cover. You rub your thumb over the blaster pockmark that dents the metal—you frown. You hope that wasn’t recent. 

Boba gently pries the helmet out of your hands and sets it onto the armrest of his throne. He purrs your name and pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, leading your attention back to him. Your eyes flit up his scars—your breath catching in your throat as he smiles.

“Hello, princess,” he says—the grit and timbre of this new nickname jumpstarting your heart to skip and choke on its own tireless beat.

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth and shake your head. “Boba, I’m not—“

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence—

Boba spreads his fingers over your jaw, tilts your head and swoops down to meet your lips in a dizzying kiss. Hard, hungry, victorious, breathless—like he’s spent years fighting and only now takes a moment to slow down—drown in the softness of your lips and skin. His hands claw at your arms, your clothes, your hair—like you’re the spoils of battle and he fears losing you to the shadows of his past and some hidden horror that nips at his heels. He kisses like a man terrified that this will be brief, intangible and something that’ll abandon him.

He trails after your lips when you break away—your lungs heaving for precious air. He doesn’t let you go far, ensuring your positioning by tangling his fist into your hair at the nape of your neck and scraping his lips up your cheek, enticing you into another kiss. You tilt you chin to meet him with equal fervor, whining as his warm tongue curls sweetly into your mouth. His existence fills your veins with liquid silver—evokes the bloom of crackling star fire beneath the cavity of your ribcage. Every thought starts with him and ends with your heart aching to burst into a million tiny shards.   

The next time you part,  Boba is the first one to pull away. He cups your cheeks between his weathered hands and plants a tender kiss just below your hairline. You swear you can feel the skin buzz from the touch—like every atom in your being was solely created for him to command and conquer. You sigh and lean into his palm. 

“I missed you.” You admit with a small smile. 

Boba leans closer and presses another kiss to your forehead. “And I you, little one.”

“I got worried, y’know,” you continue, your fingers tapping a trail up the front of his chest plate. You trace the repainted insignia with your fingernail and flash him a coy smirk. “You never called—thought maybe you found a new pretty thing.”

He grunts, shakes his head and sweeps a rogue strand of hair behind your ear. “Hilarious—my hands are full enough with you hounding me every five minutes.”

You puff out your bottom lip and feign offense, mumbling some lame whine like a petulant brat. Boba snorts and crowds closer. He presses his gloved thumb between your furrowed brows, smoothing out the wrinkles and then cups your cheeks between both palms. You freeze as he carefully knocks the crown of his forehead onto yours—it’s sweet.

An excited smile splits when he moves his head to your right, the syllables of each word rolling off his tongue sweeter than spiced honey. “I’ll make it up to you, pretty thing,” he whispers by your ear, his warm breath disturbing the fine hairs there. “How does that sound, hm?”

That’s not even a question you would ever dream of denying—you quickly nod. “I’d like that.” 

Boba drops his hands from your face and peels himself away. His eyes trickle down your figure—calculative and analytic—planning out each move to pick apart the entirety of your being. “Take everything off.”

You comply without a second thought—slipping free from the breezy cotton and scratchy poncho you stole from a storage room. The fabric pools at your feet in an unceremonious pile—leaving you bare for him. Despite the sickening dry heat that pollutes the air and causes beads of sweat to gather at your hairline—goosebumps rush up your arms under Boba’s piercing stare. 

Boba’s eyes flicker to the throne. A feral grin tugs at his lips. “Sit.”

This time you hesitate. Did he…? No—you must’ve heard wrong— 

He quirks a brow and gestures to the throne. “Well? Are you going to listen?”

Your tongue slides over your chapped lips. “O-ok..I just—never mind…”

Scrounging up some courage, you gingerly seat yourself onto Boba Fett’s throne. Chills race along the entirety of your body as the freezing metal seeps into your warm flesh. You squirm and beat away the urge to wrap your arms around yourself—he wouldn’t like that—probably would take it as some sort of insult anyway—

All your current discomforts melt away in a fraction of a breath as Boba Fett lowers himself to one knee, and then the other. A king kneeling before his very own throne for someone like you. Someone who’ll be lost to the pages of history and the endless swirl of galaxies and supernovas—you’re nobody to the world, but to him you’re everything. You inhale a shaky breath as a strange stroke of pride alights through your body as he peels off his gloves and maneuvers himself flush against the edge of the throne and between your thighs.    

Boba bows forward and slips his calloused hands around your ribcage to tug you closer. His lips land over your collar bone, slides his tongue over the protrusion then sinks his teeth into you there. You gasp as he slides lower, leading a trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake. Boba moves his palms, up and in to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples. A whimper escapes past your lips as he catches the pebbled bud between his lips, the hard enamel of his teeth scraping over it—meant to tease. Your nails dig into the fabric bunched around his neck as he moves on to suck your other nipple, the cooling saliva sending a chill down your spine as it dries.

You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core. You’re already wet—worked up and impatient. You roll your head back onto your shoulders and bite your lip. If you complain and tell him to hurry up you’re scared he’ll leave you like this—deny you that pleasure you’ve been craving for days.  

It feels like ages before he moves on from your breasts, now smattered with bruises and his saliva, and carves out a blinding path down your sternum, your belly, then your navel with his tongue. Boba circles your bellybutton—you force down the ticklish nerves and stay still for him. 

You don't mean to jump as his rough hands drop over your knees. You barely get out the first syllable of an apology when his hands slip up your bare thighs, curl around the swell of your ass and yank. You squeak as the edge of the throne bites into your tailbone, the majority of your lower half forced to lean on Boba’s shoulders and his greedy hands. He kisses the inside of your knee—you jolt with an airy gasp. 

Boba picks up his head and smirks. “Look at me when I taste you, little one.”

Mouth suddenly drier than dust, you nod dumbly. 

He hums, satisfied with your weak response and continues on.  

Boba’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver. They sweep up towards the apex of your thighs, settling close enough to reach your aching center. You know he’s there—it’s impossible to ignore him—but you curse anyway when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They steadily work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch. 

“Patience, princess,” he rumbles, shifting his weight to better reach your cunt. “Maker—you’re dripping already.”   

There's a moment just before Boba commits, his face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, hot breath, anticipation gripping your chest. And then he licks a broad stripe from the base of your pussy all the way up to your swollen clit. 

His mouth Is searing, his tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his head. He grunts against you as you drag him closer—greedy for everything he deems you worthy of. Boba’s mouth pinpoints around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter—it’s a struggle not to shut them completely. He asked you to watch after all… 

He then trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your entrance, skips over it completely to lick at the wetness dripping lower that threatens to pool onto the throne or the floor. He opens his mouth wide and hums in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. 

“Fuck—Boba,” you cry, canting your hips into his mouth. 

It's perfect. So fucking good. 

The tips of his thick fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the fluttering ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The two digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness, glinting in the low light. With a smirk, Boba thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that he refuses to stray from. It leaves you just hovering along the sharp edge of oblivion, the catch of his knuckles and calloused skin along your walls pure torture. Stars—he’s going to be the death of you—

Your hips arch into him, trying to urge him to go faster. Instead, he slowly retracts his fingers and removes his mouth. You gasp in frustration as your cunt clenches around thin air. It almost hurts. 

“I told you to be patient,” Boba chuckles, massaging a warm palm along the outside of your thigh. “You’re behaving like a brat.” 

“I’m—I—I’m sorry—“ You wheeze, trying to rope in some self control that fled a long time ago. Your wits are scrapped thin as you throw your hand against the back of the throne. You don’t care that he’s rendered you to a begging mess, your words slurred and hardly understandable. You're so close to diving off the edge—so near to those plush lips and weathered hands that’ll surely become your salvation. "Please! P-please—I need..." 

You're babbling as he drags his fingertips over your thigh, skims over your cunt, and traces a pattern into your opposite thigh. "Boba. Fuck. I pro-promise to be better—I can do it. Please—“

He complies.

Two fingers are thrust up into your dripping cunt, curving so deliciously into something that feels like unrefined plasma bolts. His mouth dips down and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. 

You're flying off you’re high, faster than a fucking speeder with tampered gears. You cum onto his tongue with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Boba keeps licking you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Stars implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jetfuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Boba, and feel the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue. 

Your brain swims in hazy bliss and fuzzy pleasure as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it hurts. You're too sensitive. Your nerves are rubbed raw and you're still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. He takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a blade against flesh. Your thighs quiver around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves that wrenches a cry from you. Your orgasm floods through you veins, bursting and rupturing every cell in your being. This one is blistering—charrs all the way to the fucking bone. Your core pulses around Boba’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease into a dull throb. You whimper and push at his forehead because he's still licking at your cunt. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick. 

Boba leaves absolutely no time to completely float down from your high—you squeak as his hands shoot up to grab at your hips, wrenching you off the throne and all but throwing you onto the same floor he kneels on. You flash him a dopey grin, letting your legs fall open for his enjoyment—

“Such a filthy princess,” he chuckles, extending a hand to cover your knee, bending it further out to expose more of your flushed cunt. “You taste sweeter than star cherries.”

You preen at his compliment. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

It earns you an amused huff. Boba scrapes the hand resting on your knee to the apex of your legs, thumb and forefinger gently parting your delicate, slick folds. You bite back a keening whine, utterly exposed to him as he slips the hood back from the throbbing knot of nerves at the top of your slit. Too raw. Your pussy clenches involuntarily, causing everything from your toes to your hips stiffen. Boba hums in delight at his handiwork. 

“Stars, Boba—please…” You beg, voice breathy and soft like whips of spider silk. Boba makes a sound that oozes with smug pleasure, teasing your sore clit with unadulterated glee. “Please,” you hear yourself whimper over your pounding pulse, shifting in his grasp and praying he’ll put an end to this sickly sweet torture.

“Pretty little thing, begging for my cock…” He rasps, darkly threaded sin and the husky scrape of the gray sea licking up jagged, black rock. You’re certain he could talk you into unraveling at the seams, untouched and putty in his hands for him to mold and shape. Boba’s other hand sweeps up your sternum, his fingertips dancing along the mythosaur pendant coiled around your neck. He then curls his thick fingers around the base of your throat and ever so lightly squeezes. “Poor baby—all worked up after a few days…I’ll fix that for you.” 

Before you can fully process, he grabs the swell of your hip and flips you onto your belly. The air from your lungs is knocked out of your chest, the abrasive sandstone bitting into the points of your elbows and patches of your skin and no doubt leaving behind irritated scrapes. You hear the shuffle of fabric and then Boba suddenly seizes your hips and arches them into his crotch, grinding the deliciously hard length of his cock through your wet folds. Throbbing and just as desperate as you are, Boba refrains from flinging you into another bout of teasing. He slicks himself up with your arousal and drags the tip of himself to your clenching center and sinks that first, glorious inch inside of you. 

With a low groan, Boba pushes in deeper, watching your tight hold flutter and accommodate his thick length. It’s the same as before during that night in the cantina—dreadfully full and all but bursting at the seems. The gentle rocks of his hips and gravelly praise eventually allow him to finally bottom out, his sharp hipbones resting against the swell of your ass as you shudder and groan. Fuck—

You can feel him in your fucking guts. 

Boba grants you a brief moment to settle and then—it’s catastrophic. 

Your jaw drops in a silent scream when he pulls back, all the way to the tip and slams back into your tight heat. Boba’s hand tangles into your hair at the nape of your neck and and pulls, forcing your back into a sharp arch. The action leaves more of you open, somehow pressing in even further. He hits so deeply within you—stars it feels like he’s splitting you open and laying you bare. 

His dark chuckle resonates above you—a bit breathy as he tames his own frazzled nerves. “Shit—that feels good. Doesn’t it, princess?”

Your incoherent babble makes him laugh as he gives your hair a playful tug, all the while he never stops thrusting in and out of you. You wiggle your hips, the slight shift makes it ache, and the sharp downward thrusts put delirious pressure on that patch of nerves that renders you dizzy. Every muscle in your body feels like it’s a tightly spooled cable, fraying and an inch away from snapping. Your gasping breaths pitch into airy squeaks as the fist twisted in your hair tightens, tugging your head back just a bit more.

Boba lurches foreword, the nip of beskar a frigid shock to the bare skin of your back when he lays over you, his elbows caging you in close. His head drops onto your shoulder blade, pressing sloppy kisses over the arch of your throat and slope of your shoulder—without warning he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck. Maker save you—

The feral drag of Boba’s teeth digging into your sensitive flesh skin makes you squeeze around his cock—Boba answers with a soft growl that vibrates against the skin of your shoulder. Somehow he fucks into you harder, his pace becoming brutal. Your nails scrabble against the floor, searching for some sort of anchor as you wail under him.

It’s too much—fuck, you’re gonna implode. Pinned between the rough sandstone and the hand in in your hair, mixed with the sharp pain of his teeth marring your skin—you loose it. Sensing your peaking orgasm, Boba’s fingers wedge between your legs to toy with your clit. He rubs quick circles with two fingers as he purrs words of filth into your ear—how good his pretty thing is for him, how well you came for him, how tight you are. 

“There you go, little one,” Boba says, his words like a tendril of dark smoke. “Cum for your king.”   

His efforts are quickly rewarded as you shudder and lock up harder than durasteel beneath him. A blinding surge of vicious heat, knocks you clean off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs as your nails dig into the sandstone—trembling and grappling blindly for a foothold in your own head. The cold chest plate is a much needed anchor for the overwhelming intensity that threatens to drown you and bury you six fix under.   

He bites down again when he cums, his hips digging into you with short, rough jabs. “Fuck—you take me so well.” You squirm, feeling his cock throb and spill into you, making the mess between your legs smear over your thighs. His thrusts stutter to a stop as he sighs deeply and pulls out, a mixture of his cum and your arousal spilling onto the floor. Boba huffs above you, drags a finger through your swollen folds and pushes it back inside of you. “Good girl.”

You shiver—reduced to a useless puddle with no intent from moving off the floor as Boba’s weight moves away. You could sleep here—that’s something completely plausible you think. Nice, warm dirt—

Boba purrs your name—the sound piquing your interest enough that you overcome the heaviness that’s settled in your body and move your head. He’s returned to his throne, cheeks a bit flushed and his chest rising and falling to recover precious air. You watch as Boba peels off his cuirass with practiced ease, and lays it with care onto the floor. He murmurs your name a second time and pats his lap, coaxing you off the floor. 

You happily slither onto his thighs, exhausted and all too eager to be swept up into the warmth of his arms. He grunts as you tuck your head under his chin and cuddle into his chest, relishing the rough scrape of his palms folding over your shoulder and the outside of your thigh. His soft breaths tickle the top of your head paired with the quiet, but steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath your fingertips and ear pressed onto his sternum. Your eyes flutter shut and though a hushed silence falls over the room, there’s nothing to be said. 

Boba tucks his nose into your hair and you smile, the slow speak of your heart unraveling into a lush garden of something new and brittle—like flakes of frost in the early morning sun. He’s more bruise than bleed nowadays—a wound closed then reopened and he promises nothing of a future beyond what you have in these moments. And yet—

You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

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