#will return to this during fall break | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugoroo · 2 months ago

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ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, reader plays volleyball, masturbation, oral (f receiving), obsessive behaviour, boobjob, penetration (p in v), 18+ minors dni.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who decides you're going to be his the very first time he sees you playing volleyball on the beach with your teammates wearing those pitiful scraps of material that can hardly be classified as a bikini.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes sure to pick up any and every extra shift he can just so he can figure out exactly what times you come down to the shore to practise.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose new favourite pastime is just to sit in his lookout post, barely paying attention to the water to keep an eye on anybody who may be in potential danger — no, lately, his gaze always seems to be fixed squarely upon you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but push his sunglasses up to rest in his hair so he can get a clearer view of you as you move around the sand, the way your scantily-clad body moves whenever you jump to hit the ball over the net just hypnotizing the poor man.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to disregard his duties completely to duck into a nearby beach hut when it becomes too much to just watch you, furiously fisting his leaking cock to the delicious mental image of your ass bouncing as you played.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who emerges from the hut looking like an utter mess, snowy locks dishevelled and swimming trunks hanging low on his hips as he stumbles back over to his lookout post. his strange behavior even grants him a few curious look from nearby beachgoers, but he couldn't care less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finds his hands clenching into tight fists by his sides when he observes one of the boys from the opposing volleyball team shaking your hand after a match. it's just a sign of mutual respect between players — he knows that.

but that doesn't mean it irritates him any less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finally gathers the confidence to actually approach you later that afternoon while you're packing up your things, idly scratching the back of his undercut while he tries to think of a normal way to start a conversation.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who doesn't have to speak at all in the end, because you say the first words for him, greeting him with that pretty little smile of yours that he's only been able to see from afar up until now and outstretching a hand for him to shake.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but let a pleased grin spread across his lips while he returns the gesture, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction rising in his chest that his own touch on your palm has erased that previous guy's.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who falls even harder for you (if that's possible) during the few minutes he talks with you. it's nothing more than a friendly interaction between two regular beachgoers, but to him, it's one of many more to come.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels like he could do an embarrassing victory dance on the sand right then and there when you casually mention an upcoming volleyball competition that you'll be playing in. so you want him to be there, huh?

he nonchalantly responds that he might just be able pop by and watch some of it during his break — as if he isn't already planning on completely abandoning his post in favour of spectating the entire match instead.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is so full of excitement during the week leading up to the tournament that he just can't keep quiet about it for even a single second. his poor bestfriend lifeguard!geto is beginning to feel like he's the one with the giant, pathetic crush on you at this point.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would most likely be fired if his boss was to see him right now, sprawled across a bench and watching you compete at volleyball instead of looking out for drowning children in the waves.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is sporting a not-so-subtle tent in his swimming trunks as he sits there, which he tries in vain to hide by crossing his legs over his lap. i mean, can you really blame him? just look at the way those doughy tits of yours jiggle in that downright sinful bikini top!

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to clench his jaw to stop from snapping various profanities at the nearby beachgoers who have stopped in their tracks just to witness the match — he's not oblivious, he can see them checking you out just as he is.

but it's different when he does it. why? because you're going to be his soon enough. don't they understand that?

pervy lifeguard!gojo who isn't surprised in the slightest when your team easily triumphs over the other. after all, the opposing team doesn't have you on it. and although he knows little to nothing about volleyball, he can easily declare that you must be the best at it.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would ideally like to run up to you and gush about how well you performed, but due to the very visible... problem in his trunks, ends up darting into the nearest beach hut for the second time this month to relieve himself because of you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is halfway through sloppily jerking his hips up into his closed fist when sunlight suddenly starts to flit through the gap in the door — shit, he was so worked up he forgot to even close it.

rookie mistake, satoru.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose eyes widen to the size of saucers when he realizes it's you who just walked in through the doorway, shutting it gently behind you. he's about to start furiously apologizing for what you stumbled in on when he notices you don't seem nearly as shocked as you probably should be.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can only watch in stunned silence as you slowly saunter closer to him, your hands hidden behind your back as they easily untie the strings of your bikini top before letting it fall to the floor.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who releases what can only be described as a pornographic moan at the sight of your freed breasts, his neglected cock twitching beneath his hand as he ogles you without shame. if he had any self-awareness left, he might've been embarrassed of the small trickle of drool oozing from his slackened mouth.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels his cheeks flush a shade of red brighter than the leaking tip of his bobbing cock when you purr to him... "do you really think i haven't noticed you checking me out for these past few weeks, mr lifeguard?"

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow finds himself living out a scenario lewder than the wildest of wet dreams he's had about you, his jittery hips thrusting erratically between your tits as you keep them pressed together for him with your hands.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who reaches what is undoubtably the fastest orgasm of his life, his sunglasses toppling from his head as it falls back in bliss, messy white locks stuck to his forehead with sweat as he releases a series of broken groans and whimpers.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who immediately joins you on your knees once he's come down from his euphoric high, long pink tongue lolling out to lap up every drop of sticky cum he split on your pretty tits, sucking and nipping at every inch of supple skin within reach.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who just can't stop yapping, going on and on about how perfect you are, how you've been on his mind for what feels like forever, how sexy you look when you're hitting around that volleyball.

it seems the only way to actually shut pervy lifeguard!gojo up is to shove his beautiful face between your legs, the only sounds leaving him now being mewls of enjoyment as he mouths at your saccharine taste through your bikini bottoms.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is already too lost in you to properly remove the material keeping him from your pussy, instead lazily yanking it to the side with a single finger so he can dive nose-deep into your sweet cunt like he's been dreaming about doing for weeks.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is just so messy with it, practically making out with your dripping hole as he rapidly delves his tongue in and out, moaning so shamelessly you'd think he was the one getting eaten out and not you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes you cum using only his sloppy mouth so many times neither of you even know just how long you've been cooped up in this beach hut where there's a real possibility that someone could walk in at any given moment.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't hold himself back from fucking you anymore — he's waited long enough already, after all. so he's effortlessly manhandling you onto your back as he pushes in, eyes locked onto the sight of your tits still glistening with his saliva and cum from earlier.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who buries his face between the valley of your breasts as he ruts into you like a rabid animal, word after word of slurred praise failing from his lips as he looks up you with those wide, lovestruck cerulean eyes.

god, he's so fucking obsessed with you. getting to finally feel you like this was just the last nail in the coffin.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow cums even harder than his previous climax, the overwhelming sensation of the tight, spongy walls of your cunt pulling him back in over and over again just unravelling his hazy mind with ease.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to psychically stop himself from letting out a choked whisper of 'i love you' as he spills his milky seed right into your womb where his cockhead is lodged, seemingly having enough awareness left to know that it's much too soon for that.

instead, pervy lifeguard!gojo settles for fixing you with a dopy grin so wide that both rows of his glinting pearly whites are on full display, murmuring a cheeky... "what do you say we make this a routine after every competition, pretty baby?"

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

pervy yoga instructor!geto <- PREVIOUS.

pervy electrician!toji -> NEXT.

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blockedbykei · 7 months ago

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𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

🏐 — tsukishima kei x f!reader

— synopsis: tsukishima has always struggled wrapping the stupid bandages on his fingers. the new manager seemed to know how, but his pride was too stuck up for him to ask help. luckily, you knew him too well.

— warnings: swearing, blood

🏐 —

The ball slams onto the squeaky floor, the synthetic leader creasing as it meets the shined court. Tsukishima smirks at his opponents’ quick glance at the rolling ball.

“Was that your best, King?”

“Shut up,” Kageyama sneers. Hinata forbearingly chases after the ball. The blonde smirks, adjusting his glasses.

His legs ache, though he didn't have the care to complain nor request to take a break. Testing his endurance was good—he still had limits to test, he still had so much energy to drain. He wasn't going to waste his time tending for the ache.

Something that he wouldn't mind wasting his time on though, was fixing the bandages around his ring and index finger. They were loosening up, untucked from one another. So he looked at Daichi, motioned to his fingers, and his senior's approving nod permits his body to exit the court and onto the bleachers.

"When was the last time you changed those, bruh?" Tanaka blurts. He rubs his hand on his shaved head, his sweat dripping off his temples. "That shit's dirty."

"Just this morning. I'm not unhygienic." Tsukishima bluntly replies. "It got dirty from the ball. Have you seen that thing? When was the last time you changed those balls?"

Sugawara sits beside him, his towel being patted on his forehead. "Two years ago, probably."

Tsukishima fiddles with the thin straps of his bandages, tucking it underneath the wrapped gauze, but it irritates him when it refuses to stick. So he tries and he tries again; from the court to the bleachers, he thinks. A person could only do so much trying.

"Hey, (l/n)!"

His head snaps towards your direction, seeing you enter with a bag full of refilled water bottles. He'd politely take the bag off your shoulders, showing chivalry to remove the image of his isouciant demeanor. But Daichi had already beaten him, as well as carrying the other two bags brought by Yachi and Shimizu.

His fingers absentmindedly twirl and twirl as he stares from afar. His heart pounds uncremeniously against hist chest, like the sound of continuous free spiking against the court floor. He dislikes the feeling of sudden emotions.

But when you were the end of those emotions, he'd bear his hatred.

And Tsukishima had been staring for too long that he hasn't noticed you approaching him with that kind, everloving smile. He doesn't return it.

"Kei," you softly greet. His first name, never given verbal privilege to say but somehow it just felt right for you to say it. "Struggling with that?"

"Hm? O-oh. Yes," his back straightens, forearm on his knee. You sit down beside him but not beside him. He feels like whining. "Can't get the stupid thing wrapped properly."

"I can help—" you offer.

"I got it," Tsukishima tucks his arm against his chest like it was something you'd steal from him. You laugh through your nose. "Not my first time doing it."

"Just let me help," you wrap your hand on his wrist and yank it towards you, the bandage seamlessly falling off his calloused palm onto your lap. Tsukishima feels heat rising to his ears— feels the obnoxious stares of his teammates smiling teasingly as they bounce the balls from their hands to the floor.

And so your soft fingers caress against his, your thumb in the apex of his palm as you hold his hand firmly. Tsukishima puts the weight of his hand on yours, watching your eyes meticulously follow the movement of your fingers wrapping the dirty bandage around his ring and pinkie finger.

"Your scar looks cool," you say. "Where'd you get that?"

"From, uh, Ushijima's spike during our match against Shiratorizawa." His voice falters with embarrassment. "He was strong. An idiot though," he adds the last remark to aid his ego.

"Wow, Kei complimenting Ushijima."

"Followed by an insult," he looks up at you through his eyelashes and feels like he could collapse on the spot. Suddenly the ache on his legs didn't bother him anymore, like they'd been healed by your essence.

You tuck the bandage in. "He may be strong, but he can't block like you," you take his hand in yours and lightly tap it with the other one before standing up. You pick up a waterbottle from your bag and offer it to him. "Drink up. Can't have you dehydrated."

Tsukishima takes the bottle from you. You smile at him, and the edges of his lips quirk up to give you a half-smile, like some sort of gratitude. And you walk away from him.

He could've done a lot more than just speak like he wasn't thankful for your assistance. Instead he watched you walk away, wistfully.

🏐 —

Stupid fucking fingers.

There's blood dripping on the asphalt ground. Tsukishima hisses, Hinata gasps and covers his mouth.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He had bowed so much his back could break. Tsukishima didn't care, he only wanted to shove his entire fist up Kageyama's laughing ass.

Blocking balls was one thing. Blocking Hinata's spike, however...

"Idiot," he says lowly, though loud enough to enlighten Hinata of his disdain. "Shit, could you be careful next time, Shoyo?"

"What's going on?" You exit the gym, locking it behind you. "Is that blood?"

"Yes! Because this Pipsqueak thought we were on some real match. Spiked it at me when we're only three feet apart!"

"Calm down, Kei."

And then he did. He did calm down. His chest went back to it's steady pace as he clutched his hand, the blood's flow weak. You walk towards him and take his hand in yours, then you drag him to the locker room.

"Please don't tell me your scar opened."

He could laugh at that sentence, then again not everyone knows everything. He shakes his head and rubs his nose. "Just a wound from one of my fingers."

"Okay, sit here." He sits on a chair as you reach for the first aid kit.

Tsukishima likes you.

Straight to the point, he admits it to himself that he likes you, and he's proud of that. He could never admit that to anyone else though. Maybe it's because you were nice, and he couldn't bring himself to be mean to you and if he ever was, you put him in his place. Maybe he likes you because you're beautiful. Not just pretty, but beautiful. And you were skillfull at bandaging his fingers. That hit a special spot in his heart.

You sit on the desk in front of him and he offers his hand willingly, placing it on your thigh. You dabbed the antiseptic covered cotton on his bleeding wound. Tsukishima barely hisses from the pinching pain. Instead, he looks at you from the scratched lens of his glasses.

You look at him, laugh a little, and push his glasses up his nose.

Tsukishima blushes.

"Be careful next time, Kei," you advice, placing the cotton aside and start bandaging up his wound. "You're the smart one in the group. They could all go to shit if you get injured."

"Eh, I have you to heal me," his words slip past his lips before he could think about what he would say. His eyes widen a little. And his blush, could it be from embarrassment as you noticed his reaction, or could it be from the way you smile at him and massage the lines in his palm as a retort.

"You're cute," you raise a brow, tucking the bandage in.

"You wrap my bandages all the time." He puts his hands on his lap. And you still sit there, in front of him, on the desk. "You're my little healer."

"Is "little" an insult or?"

Tsukishima laughs. He laughs. Then he takes your hand and plays with your fingers, his fingertips tracing every ridge, every bump of your hand. You watch him as he does so, feeling yourself smile bigger and bigger at every second.

So he takes that chance to lace your hands together. You both blush, looking away from one another.

"Take it as an insult," he finally says. "Healer? Don't take it as an insult. I'll be calling you that from now on, though."

You roll your eyes, jumping off the desk. "Okay, Kei."

You both leave the locker room, hands still together, and his bandage still intact.

🏐—

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #kei tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #hq tsukishima #tsukishima haikyu #tsukishima kei x reader #kei tsukishima x reader

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luvmahae · 2 months ago

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where you are ‣ lee haechan smau

summary: what the absolute fuck is up baby! fall semester marks the peak of greek life at ncu. the campus quad is filled with tents representing various fraternities and sororities with their letters proudly presented in front of each booth, all eager to recruit new members. as students return to campus, they are met with a flood of fliers and invitations to parties, mixers, and rush events. while you were walking through the crowd of eager freshmen to join these organizations, you bumped into someone very unexpected...

what do you do when you bump into the guy you hooked up with after a music festival during summer break? instead of the royal blue basketball jersey you first met him in, it was replaced by a varsity jacket with the letters reading "ΝΧΘ".

"haechan?"

pairing: fratboy!haechan x fem!reader

genre: smau, non-idol au, college au, fluff, nsfw/suggestive (mdni!) comedy, humor, slight slowburn, strangers to lovers, rave bae core? (am i in love with you or is it just the drugs?)

warnings: mentions of alcohol/substance usage (marijuana, mdma/ecstasy, lsd, cocaine), profanity, jokes about sex and death thrown around, both groups are out of pocket and tmi doesn't exist apparently... no ones safe! the boys gc is kinda questionable (this is where i say men deserve no rights!), haechan x reader met at an edm festival (the term rave bae will be said here and there. rave bae is someone you meet unexpectedly while raving, kinda like your temporary s/o for the duration of the rave or festival... smth like that!) disclaimer notice: these portrayals are fictional and are not intended to encourage or glamorize substance use.

notes: omg!!! my first post ever... honestly i've been debating to do this for a long time... now here i am :D ngl i lowkey based this off a personal experience (i am a changed woman now okay... spare me! 😭) my first lil fic dedicated to haechan!!! the playlist is highly edm biased with a sprinkle of brat. i just think it fits the vibe so well hehe. open to feedback and enjoy!!! ♡

status: ongoing!

taglist: closed!

profiles: live laugh love y/n (1), john summit fanboys (2)

intro: so.... edc next year?

one: comedown

two: wtf is college

three: boutta fuckin jump (written)

four: y/n’s eras tour

five: is my brain braining?

six: heyyyyyy 👀

seven: i know what u are…

eight: tequila ftw (written)

nine: ot3 timeout

ten: i want u 😩

eleven: drunk olympics

twelve: stuDYING

thirteen: agram 🙏😭

fourteen: gn haechan (written)

fifteen: team y/n

sixteen: options

seventeen: u did ur big one 😞

eighteen: h for harry styles

nineteen: kms postponed! (written)

twenty: haechan x y/n crumbs

twenty-one: how tf we feelin (written)

twenty-two: use protection 😏

coming soon!

twenty-three:

twenty-four:

twenty-five:

twenty-six:

twenty-seven:

twenty-eight:

twenty-nine:

thirty:

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alphabetatoes · 10 months ago

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a.n.: told yall id do it at some point (happy early birthday to me)

c.w.: mdni, 18+

cowboy!nanami who works as a ranch hand on the gojo family estate. as a daughter of the gojo heads, you meet the young man on his first day. immediately swept away by his charm, you know you’re done for. and he falls like putty through your hand, enamored by your kindness. the fact that he’s absolutely gobsmacked by your beauty is a plus

cowboy!nanami who’s calloused hands are ever smooth on yours when he goes to draw your attention, careful not to scare you. his nimble feet working with horses make him stealthy, and unsuspecting to those he approaches.

cowboy!nanami who makes a habit of bringing you the fresh eggs and dairy he harvests each day, as he takes note when you mention how much you enjoy baking.

and cowboy!nanami gets to reap the fruits of his labor, as you bring him new goods to try out during his breaks. the compliments drip from his tongue as he gushes and exalts your talents. he’s never been more certain that his love language comes in the form of food than when he’s reveling in the delectable treats you’ve brought him.

cowboy!nanami who builds up the courage to ask you on a date. a polite (and beautifully scenic) picnic on the estate, with wine from the orchard and fresh produce from the farm. and it's quite the juxtaposition how the stoic cowboy needs to build up the confidence to ask you on this date, nervous as to not overstep.

cowboy!nanami pushing back a strand of hair that falls in your face, moving it out of the way to paint a clear canvas as he leans in for a chaste kiss. you grasp onto his broad shoulders for better footing, and cowboy!nanami knows he's done for.

those calloused hands once again returning as cowboy!nanami draws circles over your clit. the tender motion sending shock waves of electricity through your body. and how cowboy!nanami praises his pretty girl for taking his fingers so well.

the gentle burn of how cowboy!nanami’s cock stretches you doesn't go unnoticed, but his gentle guidance adds a new level of pleasure to the experience. he looks at you with nothing but adoration, smitten by the way you’ve not only taken him, but allowed him to see a more intimate part of you.

cowboy!nanami guides you through your orgasm, his praise continuing as you ride out your high. and cowboy!nanami makes it a point to clean you up after, drawing you into him in comfort as you slowly drift off to sleep.

#jjk #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #divider by saradika

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logaenhowlett · 2 months ago

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TEACH YOU HOW TO GET TO PUREST HELL - L.H.

Summary: On the way to one of his cage fights, Logan's truck begins to break down and that's how he meets you, the owner of a repair shop in Northern Alberta. He promises to pay you with his winnings - but what he ultimately offers is far more interesting.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ only, Fluff, Flirting, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex (against the cage), Aftercare, Logan's a snarky motherfucker (but secretly a softie)

A/N: The filthiest 4k I've ever written. I just know he was a menace during his cage fighter era. It's okay though, I'll still be clawing at the enclosure. Title creds to Radiohead. Hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Smoke curls around him, bearing a semblance of warmth against the biting wind. Logan's grip on the steering wheel is loose, the other arm draped lazily across the window. He flicks his fingertips ever so often, the ashes of his cigar disappearing into the falling snow. Mile after mile, the same barren landscape stretches before him.

He's lost amidst the silence, having turned the radio all the way down in frustration at the nonsense plaguing the stations earlier. As sunshine glares through the windshield, he scrunches his eyebrows, vaguely entertaining some ideas swirling in his mind.

Hours pass by painfully slow. He tries to ignore the low rumbling that interrupts his flow of thoughts, body firmly protesting against this all-alcohol diet he'd unintentionally adopted. Logan skims a hand into the glove compartment, clicking his tongue when he discovers only a few wrappers lying inside. Slumping back into the seat, he takes another drag, disappointment etching onto his features.

An orange, flashing icon on the dashboard snaps his attention. His eyes dart to the blinking light, a sense of irritation washing over him when he recognises the ‘check engine’ symbol. In a haste, he pulls the truck over, slamming the door shut behind him as he ventures into the cold to inspect the issue. Though he has an extensive knowledge of motorcycles, by no means does that expertise carry over to whatever mess he finds beneath the hood. Logan returns with a sigh, recalling a faded road sign he'd passed ages ago - at least he isn't awfully far from his destination.

In the distance, the town welcome monument brings him some sort of peace. After driving by plenty of dimly lit diners and pubs, he reluctantly asks a stranger for directions to the nearest repair shop. Logan arrives shortly thereafter, parking at the entrance of this seemingly empty building. Curious, he scans the place, sliding out of his seat in search of anyone.

The distinct ring of metal hitting the floor has him spinning around. He fights back the amused huff at the sight of you, bottom lip slightly caught between his teeth in an attempt to stop the smirk threatening to break free. His eyes rake over your figure as you come closer - appreciating the way your overalls perfectly capture the slopes and curves of your body - before finally, rising to meet your unimpressed expression.

"What're you here for?"

There's a smidge of annoyance in your words, a reaction he very much enjoys being the reason for. He nods towards the truck parked out front, "Problem with the engine."

When you brush past him, Logan spots a name neatly embroidered onto your otherwise soiled clothes. Smiling, he follows after you, shamelessly dropping his gaze to your ass for a moment.

Waiting patiently while you poke around the hood, he steals glances at your profile, filled with the sudden urge to wipe away the grease stain remnants off your cheeks, "Yeah... looks like the head gasket needs replacing."

Logan groans to himself before agreeing with your judgment. He runs a hand across his face, stilling in brief confusion when you chuckle quietly.

"Somethin' funny?" He asks, noting how you browse the insides of his camper with a flair of barely-masked mockery.

"Just admiring the interior design."

That one almost draws a scoff out of him. Logan knows his living quarters are rather bare-bones in nature, at best, providing decent shelter for when he's on the go. Inside, a makeshift bed large enough for a man of his size and basic kitchen appliances - though he rarely uses those. It's all he cares for anyway, yet there's a tinge of self-consciousness he shakes before gruffly responding, "You can do it by tonight?"

"Tonight?" Your eyebrows raise in surprise, "Fine... but it's gonna set you back about three grand."

"I got half for now."

A sharp laugh pierces his ears. And even though it's undoubtedly fake, he thinks you look pretty like this - shooting what can't be anything less than a deadly glare just for him. The corners of his lips tilt up when your tone suddenly becomes stern, "That's not how it works, buddy."

"Listen, I got a fight later, I'll be good for it."

"What? You that sure you're gonna win?"

You're teasing him. You know it, and so does he. Logan studies the way your hand rests against your hip, a challenging glint behind your eyes while you consider this ridiculous suggestion. He moves one step closer and proudly welcomes the surge of satisfaction at the slight crack of your demeanour.

"Darlin', I always win." It's a whisper that leaves him, hushed and dangerously low. Giving your shoulder a playful nudge as he walks by, he circles to the trailer behind the truck, retrieving his motorcycle. He smirks, pleased to witness such a glimpse of weakness, "Eleven-thirty. O'Malley's. I'll see you there."

The engine revs with each twist of his wrist, the movement so precise and natural. As he sinks onto the bike, the suspension adjusting to his weight, he sends you a wink.

"And if you lose?" You shout over the blaring sounds.

With one final grin, "Just fix my truck, alright."

Even from outside, O'Malley's is deafeningly loud. The wooden door creaks lightly with the gentlest push, and a mixture of overly enthusiastic yells paired with the clashing of glass greet your presence. You're no regular here whatsoever, but the fights that occur in this bar are usually the talk of the town. And despite its reputation, you've never had much interest in being surrounded by a crowd of angry, intoxicated men - all drowning beneath the crude insults and empty threats tossed into the air.

Some of the patrons, customers you recognise from work, acknowledge you with a polite smile while you settle into a booth near the cage. As you observe the utter chaos around the room, it only cements your distaste for this so-called form of entertainment. The current match's loser staggers past your table, barely walking on two feet even with the support of his friends.

All you can think about is returning home with your hard-earned cash. It was a rather tiring day, running around salvage yards scouring for spare parts to tend to the old piece of junk he'd called a truck. Not to mention the unforgiving weather, which seemed determined to make your day more miserable. And to top it all off, the jerk wanted it done by nightfall - the audacity! Just the simple reminder of today's events has your body tensing from restlessness.

Behind you, a group of men sneer amongst themselves and between their slurring, the words "pretty boy" and "his ass kicked" grasp your attention. Turning around, you watch as they hand over money to some younger fella, taunting others to join the bet. Oh, that makes your blood boil. This Logan had strolled into your shop with nothing but a superficial promise for your services, and now, he's presumed to lose?

You stand up abruptly, peering across the space in search of him. A rush of fury courses through you at the same time you spot him casually lounging in the corner. As you approach, the faint glow of the bulb illuminates his face, a cloud of smoke momentarily hiding the smirk playing on his lips. His chuckle cuts through the hum of the jukebox he's leaning on, eyes crinkling with a kind of smugness at your arrival.

"You're joking." The bottle of whiskey between his fingers shocks you the most, "Are you seriously getting drunk before your fight?"

Logan grins at your concerned expression, eyes tracing you up and down, "You fix it?"

"Yes, I fucking fixed it. Took me all day!" Fists clenching, you stare at him intently, "Look, I did my job - you better do yours."

"Don't worry 'bout it, darlin'. I'm a man of my word." He dismisses you completely, taking a prolonged swig of his drink. A beat passes before he lazily holds up two fingers right to your face, "Scout's honour."

He laughs again when you roughly shove his hand aside, not sparing another second for this cocksure attitude. You grumble under your breath, making your way back to the booth, "It's three fingers, asshole."

A few matches take place over the next hour, and you're only getting more antsy as each of the competitors exits the cage with nothing short of bloody faces and broken bones. The audience roars all of a sudden, some even rattling the fence as this new person strides into the threshold.

Of course, he'd stripped his shirt off and the sight of his muscle-toned chest only serves to further fuel your irritation. Logan's eyes find yours immediately, looking past the crowd of hecklers now whistling at him. With a nod, he throws you a confident smirk and turns to his rival.

The man he's up against is much more burly and has a couple of inches on him. Though that doesn't seem to faze Logan in the slightest, instead he's flexing his arms almost playfully before adopting a fighting stance. Every punch and kick has you twitching in your seat, your feet firmly stuck to the ground in anticipation.

Remembering how he'd chugged an entire bottle of liquor earlier, you're astonished by the ferocity with which he attacks his opponent, dodging most moves with deadly precision. As he lands more jabs, the spectators begin to jeer and boo, swarming the enclosure of the cage in a tantrum. You peek over their shoulders, ducking away from the things they're flinging around. There's a collective gasp when he knocks out the other man, and you sigh in relief.

Leaning towards the cage, a cigar lightly pressed against his mouth, Logan's focus shifts to you. His chest is heaving from all the physical exertion, skin damp from the sweat. As he exhales the smoke, blowing a kiss in your direction, a satisfied expression returns to his face. He runs a hand through his wet hair, leaving the arena with no regard for the protesting crowd.

You follow after him, squeezing through the tightly packed space. He's settling a score with the owner, a wad of rolled cash passing between them as a reward. After a nod of mutual agreement, Logan faces you, tossing his leather jacket on. And while you're ultimately happy he won, there's also this urge to smack the cheeky look that seems to be glowing as you come closer.

What's more upsetting is the fact that he is undeniably gorgeous - especially like this, all sweaty and wound up from the adrenaline rushing inside. And of course, he doesn't miss how your gaze wanders to the sliver of skin peeking through his jacket, every slight movement only revealing more.

Logan grabs a few bills from the roll of money and stuffs them into his back pocket, holding the rest out towards you. As you reach for the cash, he swiftly draws his hand back with a teasing smile, "Have a drink with me."

"No."

"C'mon." He drags out, repeating the same thing when you try again, "No one needs their cute, little mechanic right now."

Watching you sigh triggers a thrill of excitement, an unspoken victory he claims with no shame. With a simple gesture, he leads you towards a secluded booth, determined to make this a worthwhile exchange. Despite your hesitation, he maintains a sort of relaxed energy, draping his arm along the seat - his eyes not straying from yours.

Two shots of vodka are placed on the table and Logan mirrors your action, slowly raising the glass to his lips. In no time, the air of unease dissipates, replaced by a comfortable silence while the drinks keep coming. As the night wears on, casual conversation flows between you and he asks a few things like how long you've lived here, why you became a mechanic and eventually, when he slides you the money, "What now, darlin'? You gonna leave?"

His voice, dripping with honeyed sweetness, sends a shiver down your spine. You can't exactly place the feeling, but it's a tangle of exasperation and something else - something you're not quite ready to define. Instead, you blame it on the drinks, the late hour, and the fact that there's an incredibly attractive man just inches away.

As frustration envelops your thoughts, you suddenly excuse yourself and head towards the bathroom. The alcohol, previously a gentle companion, now seems to be taking its toll. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you try to fight against the sensations running through your body. The splash of cold water does little to your state of mind, yet you're back outside in what feels like a tilted world, using all your strength to walk straight.

As you brush past the cage, someone collides into you. Desperate for balance, you reach out to grip the fence, but a strong hand lays steady on your lower back. With a gasp and a tilt of your head, you're caught off-guard when Logan comes into your view. His arm snakes around to gently hold your waist, his body now pressing into yours.

Overwhelmed by the sudden proximity, you tear your attention away from him and glance at the wire pricking your fingers, "This is fucking sharp."

He doesn't break the eye contact. A low hum vibrates through his chest as he leans in, the warmth of his breath dancing with yours. The space between you slowly shrinks, whatever lighthearted facade he'd worn earlier vanishes only to be replaced by something raw and inexplicable.

"How're you not bruised?" You whisper, remembering the way he'd been thrown against the cage earlier.

"Call it a special talent."

Despite your better judgment, you find yourself captivated by him, the intensity of his gaze reeling you in. And so, you decide to play his game, "Can you teach me?"

Logan pauses, "You wanna learn... how to fight?"

"Just a little punch or something."

A faint smile spreads across his face, you're absolutely sure he can feel the way your heart is pounding. When his lips lightly brush against your ear, a quiet rumble escapes and something flickers in your gut - a twist of exhilaration laced with a hint of caution.

There's barely anyone left in the bar at this point besides the one or two stragglers hanging around. Logan and you stand alone in the cage, seemingly tucked away in a little pocket of your own. He doesn't wander too far, remaining within an arm's distance while demonstrating the proper technique for a jab - the motion so fluid and effortless.

Your initial attempts to mimic his movements are clumsy and awkward, his amusement only growing more evident with each try. Slipping behind you, he sheds the jacket, once again exposing his glorious muscles and the thought of tracing his vein-riddled biceps with your tongue leaves you dazed for a moment. This time, he circles his arms around you and guides your hands into the correct position.

As you practice, your bodies nudge against each other, his breath fans across your neck and ignites a fire within you. The tension is palpable, the air thick with implicit desire. You can almost feel his gaze burning into you, every second posing a challenge to cross this imaginary line.

The rest of the patrons are ushered out the door, the owner nodding at Logan before disappearing into the back room. And the silence settles in, a stark contrast to all the commotion that lingered for hours prior. You notice the difference, inching towards the exit, "Looks like they're closing up."

Before you can move away, Logan's hand shoots out to catch your wrist, "And we got it all to ourselves."

"What?"

"Might've slipped the owner a little somethin’."

His fingers trail up your arm, thumb gently pushing your soft skin. Slowly, he brings you closer, his words just a whisper of heat on your cheek. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest, a rhythm echoing your own racing heart. Your voice, hoarse and strained, barely manages a response, "Is this how you budget? No wonder you're broke."

It's his laughter that breaks you at first, followed by, "You got a smart mouth, darlin'. Tell me, what else can it do?"

His lips hover mere inches above yours, there's a moment of hesitation hanging in the air - an out, if you don't want this. But, temptation is a dangerous siren and you're already ensnared by her song.

Fuck it.

Logan's dog tags hang pretty between the slopes of your breasts, his mouth moving against yours in a rough, demanding fashion. It's sloppy. It's wet. And it's goddamn heavenly when his fingers thread through your hair, the gap between you now completely erased. You cling to him as if he's an anchor, nails digging into his shoulders while he pins you to the cool metal of the cage.

He wants to touch you. To feel the warmth radiating straight off your body. The straps of your overalls fall from his force, he takes the opportunity to slide one hand through the side, kneading your waist with a kind of tenderness that surprises him too. When you take a second to breathe, Logan peppers kisses along your jawline, then some beneath your ear before grazing his lips on your neck.

The pulsing vein he finds nearly has him growling in pleasure, "Fuck, darlin'... feel so good already... can't wait to taste you when I'm done..."

He stills when you gasp, glancing up through his lashes and then quietly chuckling at your flustered expression. Yet, he can't revel in his victory for any longer than a blink, your palm tilts his head back before you fiercely capture his mouth once more.

His name rolls out your lips, drawn out and glazed with an obvious need. Taking a deep inhale, Logan feels the bulge in his jeans growing with each passing moment. You're only getting restless as his hands roam over your body, becoming nothing more than a whimpering mess all from his doing.

"Lemme hear you for real, baby... don't be shy." His fingers latch onto the cage, using it to thrust forward and deepen the kiss. Your clothes end up pooling at your feet, the barriers between you peeling away with every layer gone. Now, skin to skin, sweat glistening on your brow, you're left bare and vulnerable to his touch.

Logan reaches down, spreading your thighs wide enough till he can push your panties aside, stroking the outside of your entrance. Clenching his jaw when he's met with a distinct wetness, "Hidin' all this for me?" He almost laughs at how you curl forward and then whine his name, craving for any part of him to be inside you, "Hm... what'd you say to me before? Three fingers?

With no warning, he slides exactly three inside your cunt, pumping in and out as best as he can, "So fuckin' tight, darlin'... c'mon... show me you're ready for the real thing." He knows he's doing something right when you squirm at his actions, jumping at the invitation to delicately flick your clit before sinking his fingers back into you.

"Logan-"

Pain consumes you as he continues, tears springing to your eyes. You've never felt pleasure like this, so intense and so profound, words lost amongst the moans trembling out your lips. Your knees begin to shake under the pressure, and his free hand immediately cups your thigh, securing your body to his. As you call out for him, urging him to fuck you senseless, he tugs his fingers away.

The belt flies, jeans tossed behind in an instant and he grunts, freeing his hard length from his boxers. The tip of his cock teases your folds, the precum slicking down from the head. His nose presses against your cheek when your hand runs up and down - getting him all nice and ready. Breath hitching at the sensation, Logan involuntarily bucks his hips, your eagerness carrying him over the edge.

He's careless about lining himself up, giving it no more than a fleeting thought before thrusting into you. Whatever floods your brain at that moment is much more potent than anything you've ever experienced. It's vigorous, almost animalistic in nature, how hard he fucks you. The veins on his arms become more apparent as he hoists you up, pushing you against the cage. He can hear the little fibers of your skin tearing because of the friction, yet he does little to ease that pain, knowing you're enjoying the hurricane of emotions whisking you away.

Logan pants into your tits, nipping at the soft flesh, "Wanted to ruin that pussy since I saw you this mornin'... all dirty and pissed off at me - god. Thought 'bout somethin' else on your face too."

"Logan - don't... fucking stop. Feels amazing... wanna feel all of you." The words escape you - laboured and breathless - your eyes soften in delight, watching this sort of enraptured expression wash across his face, "So good for me, Logan."

So good.

For me.

And boy, if that doesn't spur him on.

Picking up speed, his movements turn greedy, grinding into you with a degree of passion he's never felt before. As you tug his hair, fingers raking through the dark tresses in a frenzy, Logan taps into the primal energy swelling within. His hands squeeze you further, your thighs constricting his waist as he drives up into you, "That's it baby... fuckin' perfect. Takin' all of me like a good girl... mhmm."

The way your body helplessly arches has him grinning, but that quickly gets swept away when his cock twitches inside you, aching to burst at any given moment. He tries his hardest to control himself, longing for your cries of pleasure as you finish. Thrusts weakening to a leisurely pace, Logan grunts into your neck, mumbling a string of curses while he rides out this wave. Thankfully, you're on the precipice as well, your body reaching its peak with a shiver.

His cum trickles out of you, thighs getting sticky as it seeps lower and lower. Lost in a daze, Logan thinks he can see the damn sun in your eyes. With a gentle swipe of your cunt, he sheepishly licks his own fingertips, a smile brightening his face.

The mattress, once a source of great discomfort, now feels like paradise as you cuddle into the crook of his neck, the soft rhythm of your breath soothing him to a state of peace. He'd carried you to his truck earlier, threatening you with a barrage of kisses when you dangled his keys in front of him. There was a rather short game of tag before you relented and collapsed into his embrace, tiredly blinking up at him. He'd tucked the loose strands of your hair back then tenderly caressed your cheek. It took all but one affectionate grin to convince you to spend the night in his camper.

Not a single inch of your body is free from his touch. He pulls you even closer, tracing patterns around the tiny scratches spreading across your shoulders. If you'd asked him yesterday, he would tell you he has no plans of sticking around this town, grown used to a life of impermanence. Yet, as he rests, tangled in your arms, Logan finds a reason to stay.

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astrobydalia · 5 months ago

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Summer fling❤️‍🔥

Relatioship observations

work by astrobydalia

❤️‍🔥 A thing about Virgo Venus is that since this is Venus’ fall they tend to be socially awkward or have struggles reading the room. The type to make jokes or remarks that are a bit too direct and low-key break the mood. They tend to behave in ways that comes across as robotic or dry

❤️‍🔥 A similar thing happens with Scorpio/Aries Venus too (venus is debilitated here as well) they tend to behave in ways that breaks social harmony by being a little too bold or even scandalous (Examples of this energy: Marilyn Monroe, Doja Cat)

❤️‍🔥In general, unless the rest of the chart says otherwise, debilitated Venus positions gives the native low charisma and lower ability to blend in socially. Their demeanor tends to be too forward or rub people the wrong way.

❤️‍🔥What is up with Leo placements and becoming romantically obsessed with people that reject them? Either that or they enjoy perusing people who they "shouldn't" be with like authority figures or someone that is way out of their league

❤️‍🔥Just like Jupiter in a woman's chart tells you how her husband will be, I feel like Jupiter in man's chart will tell you what kind of husband he'll be to be honest

❤️‍🔥 Whenever I had Vertex in the 5th house of a Solar Return, romance was a significant thing during those years!! However it was always flings, situationships and stuff like that. The sign with gives more nuance like one year I had it in Sagittarius and I had a fleeting romance with a foreigner

❤️‍🔥 With debilitated moon (Capricorn/Scorpio Moon) I've noticed these natives tend to believe or feel like love is conditional. Things like loyalty, trust and care are earned and come with a price or you have to jump thorough endless hoops first in order to get them. They refuse to be vulnerable so they expect the other person to show their cards first and then MAYBE if you earn their trust they'll open up too but good luck with that LMAO.

❤️‍🔥 That being said, I noticed men with Capricorn/Scorpio Moon tend to marry a woman that is very self-righteous and controlling. Their choice for a life partner tends to be... yikes

❤️‍🔥 Capricorn/Scorpio Moon can be the type to be skeptical of the idea of true love. The difference is Scorpio Moons are most likely to convert into the lovey-dovey train once they find their person cause being water sign deep down they crave that intimacy. However Capricorn Moons are most likely to freeze their heart out even when their soulmate is right in front of them, unfortunately the more time passes the more cap moons tend to harden their hearts

❤️‍🔥 Scorpio Moon’s greatest fear is to be alone I’ve noticed. And yeah nobody wants that but trust me for Scorpio Moon this is a HUGE thing. When I say they crave intimacy I mean they CRAVE intimacy. If they could hot glue their loved ones to their body so they’re connected to them for life like siamese twins, they would.

❤️‍🔥 Taurus Moons are just as obsessive and sexual as scorpio moons, literally copy paste. They can also be just as toxic when underdeveloped. The difference is taurus moons are more nurturing and if they don't want you to leave they'll create a paradise or "golden cage" for you (vs Scorpio moons who tend to resort to emotional or mind games for this purpose). I was also surprised to discover how needy taurus moons become once they like you?? Idk how to explain it but it's like they wanna insert you in every aspect of their lives and low-key gatekeep you LMAO. On the other hand Scorpio Moons will push you away and play cat and mouse for a while if they see themselves catching feelings

❤️‍🔥In my opinion both moons (Scorpio and taurus) tend to seek possessiveness or control in their relationships and they usually have the upper hand or the most power I've noticed

❤️‍🔥Praying for gen z babies born under Scorpio Venus cause a lot of them have that placement square Aquarius Neptune and that combo is.... ooof. Romanticizing toxic delusional love that brainwashes the shit out of them YALL NEED TO WAKE THE FUCK UP

❤️‍🔥 When someone has their planets in your 12th house sign you have a fogged perception of this person, you tend to idolize them cause there are parts of them that you're blind to. However this person will feel confident in knowing your psyche as well as the unconscious motives behind your actions. This person has a knack to naturally know how to appeal to unconscious desires or fears you weren't even aware you had. For this reason you'll find this person either triggering and scary OR very addictive cause it almost feels like they penetrate your soul

❤️‍🔥 With that being said, people with planets in your 12th house are the best therapists for you or best people to vent to. Water houses in general can apply, but I feel like 12th house is better for this cause it rules over spiritual and emotional healing/cleansing specifically. This person can help you untangle your unconscious and you can feel sooooo much relief after talking or being with them. This will only apply if you trust them and they have good intentions ofc, otherwise they'll actually feed into your unconscious fears and make them worse

❤️‍🔥 People with placements on your 8th house secretly dislike and/or envy you, but still feel the need to be close with you cause they low-key wanna tear you down, wanna see you fail, wanna keep taps on you to make sure aren't too successful. I've seen SOOOOO many toxic fake friendships with this synastry... Although I've previously talked about positive manifestations of this overlay too, frankly this dynamic is what I've observed for the most part with this synastry if im honest with you

❤️‍🔥 I totally agree with @zeldasnotes when she said 8th house synastry is only good/tolerable when there’s mutual sexual attraction between the two, otherwise it’s annoying af. I believe this is because the two people can easily use sex to release all the intensity and tension between them instead of letting it build up or channeling it through toxic emotions like envy

❤️‍🔥 Okay but have you ever been genuinely loved by an Aries placement? When their heart is in it, they'll have unshakable loyalty. They’d move mountains for you, kill and fight for you. They are THE ride or dies

❤️‍🔥 A thing that I've seen a lot with women who have debilitated Jupiter (Virgo, Gemini, Capricorn) is that they have a husband that prioritized his work over their marriage/family. The husband is often away due to work or duties or just emotionally unavailable in general. These women tend to give up something about their life after marriage because they had to accommodate to their husband's life style, like if she has to move or give up her own job to be with him she will. For example: Grace Kelly (Gemini Jupiter) who quit acting after marring the prince of Monaco. Hailey Bieber (Capricorn Jupiter) who was exposed to a lot more public attention after marrying Justin and she said herself she's had to learn to adapt that being new part of her life now

❤️‍🔥 Another big thing I've seen with Saturn influence in the 7th house is that your spouse will have big, BIG ambitions. People only talk about Jupiter or Venus but to be real with you, Saturn is an underrated indicator for your spouse being wealthy. This placement indicates that your spouse is stablished, successful and can easily provide stability for you. All the people I've seen with this placement married someone who had a business!!!!, their own house, a successful career, a household name, a higher position, etc

What I mean by Saturn influence on the 7th (for both Vedic and Tropical): Saturn in the 7th house Capricorn or Aquarius DSC 7th ruler in the 10th house (also maybe 11th house) or vice versa Saturn darakarka

❤️‍🔥 Mars-Pluto aspects definitely will make someone have pretty extreme kinks

❤️‍🔥 I’ve seen this a lot in Pisces Moons and Aries Moons that they low-key wanna be babied in a relationship or they subconsciously end up being the one who’s more coddled and taken care of by their partner

❤️‍🔥 Aries and Gemini placements in the composite chart is indicative of a relationship that likely won't last long-term. I've seen this placement in long lasting marriages too but their relationships gave off fling vibes, really playful, they type where people said they wouldn't last

❤️‍🔥 I’ve seen Saturn in the 7th house synastry manifesting as the opposite of commitment. The Saturn person blocks off the possibility of having a committed relationship with the house person and the house person feels abandoned

❤️‍🔥 With that being said Saturn in synastry/composite can indicate rejection in that area and things one or both parties will deprive the other of or deny them. For example Saturn in the 8th synastry/composite can mean one person refused to have sex with the other or there are many conditions and restrictions in the sex life of both

❤️‍🔥 Aquarius and Capricorn Mars/Venus are SO good at hiding their attraction from you. They'll watch from afar for some time before making some move meanwhile you'll be clueless of their interest

❤️‍🔥 Moon square Neptune is an aspect that makes someone emotionally insecure, the type to need constant reassurance that you still love them. Can also be emotionally manipulative in very subtle almost undetectable ways

❤️‍🔥 Earth Venus find it very easy to engage in casual dating/hook up culture because they know how to not get too attached. They have a hyper awareness of what purpose a certain relationship is serving them at the moment so they act accordingly

❤️‍🔥 On the other hand I’ve noticed Air Venus natives have a tendency to play around because they know they get the ick quickly. But it's all fun and games until they end up catching feelings accidentally 😭

❤️‍🔥 My experience having Gemini Jupiter in the 7th house: Yes all my suitors/dates have been foreigners but the cultural difference was never that big. They usually came from a country close to mine or their cultural background was very similar from mine

work by astrobydalia

#astrology #astro #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #birth chart #astrobydalia #astrology observations #astro community

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nyrasvoid · 5 months ago

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The Cost of Duty

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gwayne Hightower, is summoned in Kingslanding during his wife’s first pregnancy. After giving birth to their son without him, she struggles to forgive Gwayne upon his return.

Warnings: lots of angst because our girl is alone but a good ending i guess ?

A/N: no use of Y/N and also included Daeron in the fanfic, he’s 7 yrs old and raised by Gwayne and his wife

- Word count: ≈2.9k

Your hand rests on your growing belly, feeling the subtle movements of your child. The babe is still small, just five moons along, but every tiny kick, is a reminder of the life growing inside you, a life you created with Gwayne. Yet, as the days pass, it feels like you are experiencing this miracle alone.

The door creaks open, and Gwayne steps inside, his expression tired as he pulls off his gloves. His face is lined with the exhaustion of someone who has been carrying the weight of Oldtown on his shoulders.

You watch him as he moves around the room, setting his things aside without a word. A part of you wants to let it go, to simply accept that he is busy, that he is doing his duty. But another part aches for his attention, for the warmth and closeness you once shared.

"Gwayne," you say, your voice soft.

He looks up, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looks away again. "Yes, my love?"

You hesitate, trying to find the right words. "You've been so distant lately," you begin, trying to keep a calm tone. "I understand that your duties are important, but... I miss you. I miss us."

He sighs, rubbing his temple as he moves closer to you. "I know, my love. I know it has been difficult. But there is so much that needs my attention. With Father in King’s Landing, everything falls to me."

"But what about me?" you ask, your voice rising slightly. "What about our child? I need you, Gwayne. We need you."

He looks at you, with guilt in his eyes. "I am here now, am I not? I’m doing the best I can. But Oldtown... it doesn’t run itself."

You stand, unable to keep your frustration to yourself. "And what about me? Do I run myself too? I sit here every single day, waiting for you, hoping for just a moment of your time. But when you finally come, it’s like you’re not really here.”

You pause.

“You do not even look at me unless I speak to you first."

Gwayne steps back, as if putting distance between you would solve your problems. "I do not have the privilege of simply putting things aside, my dear. You knew this when we married."

"I didn’t know it would mean being ignored!" you snap, your hands trembling as you grip the skirts of your dress tightly.

He takes a deep breath. "I’m doing this for us, for our future. The child’s future. Can you not see that?"

Tears threaten to fall out your eyes, but you refuse to cry. "I just want my husband back," you whisper.

Gwayne’s face softens, and he reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away before he can touch you. “My love-"

"Don’t," you say, "Just... don’t."

He watches you for a moment, but he says nothing more, only turning and leaving the room, the sound of the door closing behind him, leaving you alone again.

Days pass, and the tension between you two only grows. Gwayne is present, but his mind is always on his duties. You feel as if you’re growing further and further away from him.

One evening, after a long day, Gwayne finally sits down beside you as you take your evening meal. You’ve been silent for most of the day, and now the sight of him so close yet so distant is almost unbearable.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence. "I have received a raven from King’s Landing today," he begins.

"And?" You replied unphased, not even looking at him.

"Father has summoned me," he says, "He needs my presence to sort out some political matters."

You place your spoon down. "King’s Landing?" you repeat, disbelief in your words. "That’s so far... and I’m already five moons along, Gwayne."

"I know," he says, his voice low. "But I will be returning as soon as I can. I won’t let anything keep me from being here for the birth."

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing. "You don’t know that. What if something happens? What if you don’t make it back in time?"

"I will," he insists, reaching for your hand, but you pull it back.

"You’re not listening to me!" you raise your voice at him, your frustration taking over. "You’re choosing to leave. You’re choosing your father over me. Over us."

He frowns. "It’s not a choice, my dearest. It is a duty. My father needs me."

"And I need you," you sob, your voice breaking. "I can’t do this alone, Gwayne. I shouldn’t have to. You are my husband before anything else."

He reaches out again, but this time you stand, moving away from him. "Please," he begins, but you shake your head.

"Don’t ask me to understand," you say, "Because I don’t."

After a long moment of silence, you hear him rise from his seat. "I’m leaving in three days time," he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. "Please, try to rest.”

You say nothing, you hear the door close behind him, and you break down crying, once again, you are left alone.

The night before he’s supposed to leave, Gwayne comes to your shared chambers, his expression softer than it’s been in weeks. He moves to sit beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your knee.

"I know you’re angry with me," he begins, his voice gentle. "But I don’t want to leave on bad terms. I love you. You must know that."

You turn to face him, your emotions a mix of anger, sadness, and love. "If you loved me, you wouldn’t be leaving."

He looks surprised, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his hand sliding up your nightgown. "Let me show you," he murmurs as he presses tender kisses down your collarbone.

But the anger and hurt are still too fresh. You place a hand on his chest, pushing him back firmly. "Not tonight, Gwayne."

He pulls back, surprise and hurt showing in his eyes. "My love..."

"I can’t," you say, "I’m still angry. I need...time."

He nods understandingly. "I am sorry," he whispers, pulling you into his arms despite your anger. "I am truly, so sorry."

You let him hold you, sobbing into his arms without saying a word.

Gwayne leaves at dawn, you watch from the window, your hand resting over your belly as he rides away. He turns once, looking back, but you don’t move. You don’t wave.

As the days turn into weeks, the loneliness only grows. Gwayne’s absence is a constant reminder of the growing distance between you. You try to busy yourself with tasks; embroidering blankets for the babe, reading, even taking long walks through the gardens. But nothing can fill the void he has left behind.

You spend time with Daeron, Gwayne’s youngest nephew, who has been staying in Oldtown under your and your husband’s care since he was born, and he had now seven years of age.

One afternoon, as the two of you sit beneath the shade of a large tree, Daeron looks up at you sadly.

You reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “What’s on your mind, sweetling?”

Daeron glances up at you, his blue eyes filled with a sadness. “Auntie… will you and Uncle Gwayne forget about me when the babe is born?”

The question catches you off guard. You shift closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a gentle embrace. “Forget about you? Never, Daeron. Why would you think such a thing?”

He shrugs, trying to appear indifferent, but his voice trembles as he speaks. “Because the babe is your child. He’ll be important, and I’m just… I’m just your nephew.”

You tighten your hold on him, your heart breaking at the thought that he feels so insecure. “Daeron, listen to me,” you say softly. “You are not just our nephew. You’re as much a part of this family as the babe will be. Gwayne and I love you dearly, and nothing will ever change that.”

His eyes fill with tears. “But… he’ll be your real son. Won’t you love him more?”

You shake your head. “Of course not, sweetling. I will love both of you equally, just as if you were both my sons. I promise you that. You and the babe will grow up together, and I will raise you both as brothers. Nothing will change how much I care for you.”

Daeron’s lip trembles, and he finally allows himself to lean into your hug, resting his head against your shoulder. “You mean it? You won’t forget about me?”

You press a kiss to the top of his head. “I mean it, Daeron. You are very dear to me. The babe will be your little brother, and he will look up to you, just like you look up to Gwayne. I’m sure you’ll be the best big brother anyone could ask for.”

He sniffles but nods. “I will teach him all the things I know. How to ride a horse, and how to climb trees…”

“And how to be kind and brave, just like you,” you add with a smile.

Daeron smiles a little. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

You hug him tighter. “I know you will, Daeron. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

He pulls back slightly, looking up at you with determination. “I’ll be the best big brother ever.”

You smile, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I’m sure you will be, my love. And the babe will be so lucky to have you as his brother.”

The boy’s expression softens as he looks at your belly. “Do you think he’ll be just like uncle Gwayne? Brave and strong?”

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of Gwayne filling your mind with sadness. “Perhaps,” you say gently.

Daeron nods, then his face brightens again as he looks up at you. “Can I help you pick out a name for him?”

Your smile widens at the offer. “Of course. Do you have any ideas?”

He thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. “What about Maelor? It’s a strong name, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head, considering the name. “Maelor…” you say slowly. “Yes, it is a strong name.”

Daeron smiles, clearly proud of himself. “I can’t wait to meet him, auntie. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

As the months drag on, you begin to feel your belly grow heavier each day. Letters from Gwayne arrive frequently, filled with words of love and concern, but you don’t care to answer them.

You feel alone, as the weeks turn into months and the baby gets more active. Every kick is a reminder that the time is running out and you can only hope that Gwayne comes back in time.

But as your belly grows, so too does your anxiety.

One evening, you feel a sharp pain. You clutch at your belly. It’s too soon, you think. Gwayne isn’t here. He promised he would be here.

The pain intensifies, and you know without a doubt that the babe is coming. Your maids rush to your side, their faces filled with worry as they help you to your bed. The midwives and the maester are summoned.

You grip the sheets, your knuckles turning white. “It’s too soon,” you gasp, tears streaming down your face. “Gwayne isn’t here… he isn’t here…”

The midwife shushes you gently, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Breathe, my lady. Focus on the baby. He’s eager to meet you.”

The labor is long, painful, and each moment is filled with fear.

At one point, you feel that you can’t go on, the pain too much to bear. “I can’t,” you cry out, “I can’t do this…”

“You can, my lady,” the midwife insists. “You’re strong. Your baby needs you.”

The room is full of faces, of whispers and encouragements, of hands holding yours as you push with all your strength.

Hours pass, and just when you think you have nothing left to give, you hear it. A loud cry that fills the room. The midwives wrap the tiny babe in soft blankets before placing him in your arms.

Tears stream down your face as you look down at your son cry. He’s perfect, you think.

“Maelor,” you whisper, “my sweet Maelor.”

Days pass, and the babe grows stronger, his cries filling the empty chambers that once were filled with silence. Daeron is overjoyed to meet his new brother.

“Can I hold him?” Daeron asks one afternoon, his eyes wide with excitement.

You smile, carefully placing Maelor in his small arms. “Support his head,” you instruct gently, watching as Daeron cradles the baby with surprising care.

“He’s so small,” Daeron whispers. “Will he be strong like uncle Gwayne?”

You nod, your heart filled with pride. “He will. But he’ll also have your kindness, Daeron. He’ll need you to show him how to be a good man.”

Daeron’s face lights up, and he nods eagerly. “I will. I promise.”

You watch as Daeron gently rocks Maleor, your heart warming at the sight. For a moment, the loneliness fades, replaced by the joy of watching your sons together.

But as the days turn into weeks, Geayne sends letters, each one more desperate than the last, asking about Lucerys, about you, about your health. But you can’t bring yourself to respond, the anger still too fresh.

Maelor grows, his tiny fists curling around your fingers, tugging at your hair, his eyes beginning to focus on your face. He’s beautiful, perfect in every single way, and yet every time you look at him, you’re reminded of Gwayne’s absence.

Two months pass before Gwayne finally returns. Word reaches you that he is only an hour away, but you remain in the nursery, rocking your son in your arms as you sit by the window.

Despite knowing Gwayne is coming home, you make no move to greet him at the gates.

Footsteps approach, and a moment later the door to the nursery swings open. Gwayne stands there, his eyes searching for you immediately. He takes a step inside, his gaze falling on you and the child in your arms. “My love…”

You do not look up, focusing instead on Maelor. Gwayne approaches you, dropping to his knees beside you. “Please, look at me. I am so sorry…”

You remain silent, unwilling to let your emotions show. Gwayne reaches out, placing his hand on top of yours. “I know I’ve hurt you. I never meant to be away for so long. I didn’t think it would be so… difficult.”

You glance up then, your eyes meeting his.

“I needed you,” you say quietly. “I went through the hardest moments of my life without you, Gwayne. And now… now you come back and expect everything to be as it was?”

“I do not expect that,” he says, “I know I’ve done wrong. And I can’t change what’s happened… but please, give me a chance to make it right. I want to be here for you, for our son.”

You look down at your son, your heart aching. “Maelor is already two months old,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “You’ve missed so much, Gwayne. His first smile, the way he grabs my finger when he’s hungry… you weren’t here.”

Gwayne’s breath hitches, and he finally touches Maelor’s tiny hand, his fingers trembling as they brush against the babe’s soft skin. “I know,” he whispers. “I am truly so sorry, my love. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life. Please… let me be here now. Let me be the father he deserves, the husband you deserve.”

“We’ll see,” you say quietly. “For now, all that matters is that Maelor is healthy and safe.” You pause and take a deep breath, “But… I want us to be a family, Gwayne. For Maelor and Daeron.”

Gwayne nods. “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your son’s forehead. “Thank you for giving me a healthy son, my dear. I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right.”

You watch as he cradles the babe in his arms, the sight filling you with joy.

PS: I know I have to start writing for other characters, I just love this man so much 😔 So just a reminder that my requests are open 🥰🥰

#gwayne fanfic #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne imagine #gwayne x you #gwayne x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd x reader #ser gwayne hightower #hotd season 2 #hotd #hotd s2

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brokenmenswhore · 5 months ago

Text

crush | sirius black

pairing: sirius black x fem!reader (james’s sister)

summary: as james’s little sister, you’ve been around sirius most of your life and developed a bad crush. james doesn’t want sirius anywhere near you, but what can he do if he doesn’t know?

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+)

────── ☾ ──────

It started when you were nine. He was eleven.

Your brother, James, had invited his new friends over during the holiday break. He was excited to have made such good friends during his first year at Hogwarts, and he explained to your parents that one friend in particular preferred not to return home if he didn’t need to, and your parents were happy to host.

James introduced Sirius, Remus, and Peter to your parents, barely taking the time to introduce them to you. He quickly said “and that’s my sister,” and walked away, the boys following suit. Sirius, however, gave you a smile before walking away, his longer, dark hair falling slightly in front of his face. You returned his smile and blushed.

When you were eleven and he was thirteen, you were sorted into Hufflepuff during the sorting ceremony, and James sighed in relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with you being in the same house as him. You looked to his table to wave at him, but he turned away when he saw you, embarrassed by his little sister. Sirius, however, returned the wave.

When you were thirteen and he was fifteen, the Marauders hosted a party at the beginning of term, and you snuck in, desperate to be included. Fifth years were already drinking, but you weren’t ready to. James and Remus tried to pressure you into drinking, but Sirius ripped the bottle out of your hand and downed its entire contents in one large gulp. “Oops,” he shrugged, “guess she can’t drink it if it’s all gone.” You gave him a small smile as a thank you, and he gave you a nod.

Later that same year, when you heard the news that Sirius took Alice Fortescue’s virginity, and she was bragging about it, you felt a drop in the pit of your stomach. You were envious. You assumed Sirius got girls, he was much too gorgeous and confident not to, but hearing it spoken of make it so real, and it hurt. You liked him, and you were jealous.

When you were fifteen and he was seventeen, you were all at a party in Ravenclaw house, seated in a gigantic group of truth or dare.

“Truth or dare, Potter?” Dorcas asked, taking a hit of the blunt between his fingers.

“Dare, obviously,” you responded.

Dorcas let out a chuckle. “I dare you to make out with Black over here.”

You could feel the blush rise to your cheeks. You turned toward Sirius, who was nonchalantly slumped over on the couch. He was always so casual, as if nothing ever phased him. He took a drag from his cigarette, tapping the butt down on a tray as he blew out the smoke, then dropping the cigarette down and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“No,” James interrupted, an amused chuckle leaving his lips, “she’s not doing that.”

You shot him a look.

“You’re not kissing my best friend. Sorry, sis,” he told you.

“Game’s got rules,” Sirius shrugged.

James glared at him. “This is disgusting, I can’t watch this.”

Sirius stood up and approached where you were sat cross-legged on the rug, dropping to his knees to meet your gaze.

“Do you accept the dare?” he nearly whispered, leaning his face toward yours.

You swallowed nervously, nodding your head yes as Sirius leaned in even more, tilting his head slightly to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

You reciprocated, your lips moving in unison as Dorcas teased you by cheering you on. Desperate to appear confident and in control, you tangled your fingers through Sirius’s hair, pulling him even closer to you as you deepened the kiss for a moment. He was so good at it, but you were hyper aware of the eyes on you, so you pulled away, dropping your hand from the back of his head.

Sirius remained close to you for a moment, exchanging a glance as he caught his breath.

“Okay, enough, enough, gross,” James said, pulling Sirius’s shoulder until he moved away from you.

The next morning, James was not happy with you as he caught up to you walking down the hall. “Can’t believe you kissed Sirius,” he said, jogging to reach your side.

“It was truth or dare, James, don’t be a baby,” you replied.

“You still got a thing for him, huh?” he teased, bumping your shoulder.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you said, shifting your books in your arms.

“Oh, come on, you really think I can’t see it?”

You stopped short and turned to your brother. “What do you want, James?”

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want, and that’s for you to get all worked up over this. I know you’ve got a little crush on him, but Sirius isn’t that kind of guy. I just don’t want you to get yourself attached over a stupid game when, in reality, it’ll never happen.”

“Are you so defensive because you care about my feelings or because you don’t want me to like your best friend?” you retorted, slightly annoyed by James’s statement.

“Just keep your distance, okay? For both of our sakes,” he said, turning away from you to dip through one of the open classroom doors.

When you were sixteen and he was eighteen, you walked in on Sirius with another girl.

One of your friends let you into the Gryffindor common room in search of James. Your mother had sent for both of you, asking you to visit your father during a tumultuous week for his health. He was alright, but was in hospital, and your Heads of House had approved for both you and James to be absent for one week in order to visit him.

“James!” you called up the staircase, but to no avail. Classes were finished for the day, and Remus and Peter were seated at a table in the common room reading, so he wasn’t out with his friends.

You muttered to yourself, “…always fucking ignores me…” as you marched up the staircase, impatient at his constantly disregard for you as you swung the door to his dormitory open, and that’s when you saw Sirius and Mary McDonald. It was a genuine accident.

Mary squealed and pulled the sheets over her body, while Sirius simply pulled out of her, standing tall despite his nakedness, and turning to you as he, in no rush, picked his underwear up off the floor.

“Can we help you?” he asked, jumping into the fabric and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

You were speechless. You were embarrassed by the act you had just witnessed, mad at Mary due to your jealousy, and completely enamored by the sight of of Sirius, first naked, and now in nothing but his boxers, his body glistening from sweat.

“I- I was looking for James, but I can see he’s not here, so-“ you quickly turned and shut the door behind you, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath. Taking a moment was a mistake, because Sirius swung the door open before you could escape down the staircase.

“He’s joined a study group in the library,” Sirius spoke, “promised to tutor some classmates in Transfiguration or some shit.”

You avoided making eye contact with Sirius, nodding your head and thanking him for the information as you moved to the first step of the staircase, but Sirius caught your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“Whatcha need him for, anyway?” he asked.

“Family stuff,” you responded, barely loud enough for Sirius to hear.

Sirius nodded. “You gave Mary in there a right good scare, Potter.”

“Right, well, sorry,” you responded, your jealousy allowing you to mask confidence in your voice. As hot as he looked, you felt angry. You knew it was irrational, but you were a sixteen year old girl, and you were jealous.

You got down five steps before Sirius spoke again. “We aren’t together, you know.”

You stopped short and turned your body up the stairs. “Why would I care?” you spoke, retreating down the rest of the steps and out of the common room to collect yourself and find your brother.

“Where’s Prongs?” Sirius asked the next morning, confused as to why only he and Remus were present in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Had to go see his dad, apparently he’s not feeling too good,” Remus explained, “his mom freaked out and had him come visit.”

Sirius nodded to gesture he was listening. “Y/N too?”

Remus furrowed his brows as he looked at Sirius. “I guess? I didn’t ask, didn’t think it mattered.”

Sirius diverted his attention to opening his book to the right page, eager to change the subject now that Remus was looking at him weird.

You and James returned in a week, arriving back to the castle early enough in the day to catch the midday break and the second block of classes.

You walked down the hallway with your brother, who caught up to his friends and gave them all a greeting. You and Sirius locked eyes, and you immediately blushed and sped away.

“The fuck was that about?” James asked, picking up on your unusual behavior.

“Probably just all weirded out now that she’s seen Sirius’s dick,” Remus joked, bumping Sirius’s shoulder playfully. James’s eyes widened as he looked at Sirius.

“Pardon?”

“It’s nothing, mate, she just walked in on me right before you guys left,” Sirius explained, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“What’s the big deal?” Sirius responded.

James took a deep breath. “Can you just, like, keep your distance?”

“What, from your sister?” Sirius asked for clarification.

“Yeah, from my sister,” James half-spat, “you can’t truly be so thick, Sirius. You know she likes you.”

He did not know.

James continued, “I love you, mate, but please not her. Seriously. Fuck around with whoever you want, just not my little sister. Anyone else.”

Sirius understood. “Who said I wanted to fuck your sister anyways?”

His phrasing only bothered James more. “I’m not kidding, Sirius. Not my little sister.”

Sirius threw his hands up. “Okay, jeez, I get it, I’ll keep my distance.”

When you were seventeen and he was nineteen, you met your first real boyfriend.

Evan was your age, a fact that thrilled James. You began to spend most of your time together, and you invited him to tag along to your brother’s extravagant New Year’s party.

When the clock struck midnight on January 1st, Evan wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed you, a move that turned your relationship from friendly but flirty to something much more. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you smiled as you pulled away, giving him another small kiss before he released your body from his own to grab the shot glass being handed to him by his friends.

You laughed as you watched him nearly choke on the shot. In a daze of laughter, your eyes caught Sirius, who was leaning against an empty doorframe across the room, drinking from a bottle and staring directly at you. You maintained eye contact for a moment, waiting to see if he would give you any sort of visual explanation as to why he was looking at you, but he didn’t move.

You still liked him, sure, but you liked Evan, too, and it had been six years. You couldn’t just pine after your brother’s best friend forever and not explore the perfectly good option directly in front of you.

In March, you gave your virginity to Evan. He was kind, and you were sure you were ready.

Sirius was acting weird around you, always finding an exit the moment you entered a conversation or a room he was in. You confronted James about it, and got into a rather heated argument about how James had no right to tell Sirius to stay away from you.

In June, James and your parents officially invited Sirius to live with you for the summer. It was brutal; Sirius was always around.

You would sneak into the kitchen first thing in the morning to make coffee the way you liked it, before anyone else could get their hands on the pot, and Sirius would be there. You would go to brush your teeth before bed, and Sirius would be brushing his hair in the bathroom mirror.

The worst part: Sirius spent most days poolside. Shirtless.

He enjoyed lounging out in the sun after a good swim, the water making his body glisten in the natural light as he adjusted his sunglasses, his dark hair slicked back from the wetness.

You stared at him from your second story window, admiring just how beautiful he truly was. He was so effortlessly perfect.

You considered joining him outside several times, but knew you would only be doing it so wear a bathing suit around him and hopefully tease him, if you even had the power to do so, and that wasn’t fair to Evan, but what the hell, it was your pool anyway.

You put on your bathing suit, draping a towel over your arm as you stepped outside, snapping Sirius out of his thoughts as he turned to you.

“Mind if I join?” you asked, slowly stepping into the water.

“It’s your house,” Sirius responded.

You swam a few laps before leaving the water, making a show of drying off your hair. Sirius kept his sunglasses on so that you couldn’t see him watch you, careful to heed James’s request to keep his distance from you, but he couldn’t help himself, you looked too good wet.

In October, you and Evan broke up. He was beginning to run with a crowd you didn’t want anything to do with, and you were gradually growing apart.

When you were eighteen and he was twenty, the Marauders hosted another party in honor of Peter’s twenty-first birthday. They were all staying at the unoccupied house of a mutual friend, and had more than enough space to go all out for the occasion. James invited you, having grown to appreciate you as a friend as you two got older.

“What a fucking dress,” Sirius said, leaning his back on the wall next to you.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to say shit like that to me?” you said, lightheartedly.

“Then don’t dress like that,” he said, eyes scanning up and down your body.

You blushed and dropped your head to hide it.

“Can you meet me upstairs in five?” Sirius asked.

You nodded your head yes without a second thought, giving him ample time to get upstairs alone before you left, so as not to raise suspicion. Your heart was pounding out of your chest.

You didn’t know what room he was in, having not thought that far ahead when he asked for you to meet him, so you lightly rapped your knuckles on every door until Sirius opened one, pulling you inside and softly clicking the door shut behind you.

“What’s up?” you asked, innocently.

Sirius smiled at you. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

You were dumbfounded. There was no way Sirius called you up here for the reason you hoped he did. Absolutely no way.

“You like me, don’t you?” he asked, stepping closer to you.

“What? No, Sirius, why are you even-“

“You’re a big girl now, Y/N, we aren’t ten anymore. You have to tell me what you want.”

You swallowed back your nerves. “James is right downstairs.”

Sirius stepped even closer to you, grabbing your waist with his hand, “James doesn’t ever have to know.”

You gazed up at him. “I just-“ your voice trailed off. You didn’t know what to say.

“You want me?” Sirius asked, dipping his head to meet your lowered gaze.

“Maybe,” you giggled.

Sirius smiled, leaning back slightly to look you up and down, “cus I want you.”

You sighed and smiled due to your nervousness. “You never wanted me before.”

“Not true,” Sirius immediately defended himself, “the second I started to show it, your idiot brother made me promise to stay away from you.”

“What changed?”

“This dress, for starters,” he answered, “and the fact that James got wasted about forty minutes ago and is probably passed out by the pool right now. I can never get you alone.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was like nine.”

“When we met over the holiday, right?” Sirius replied.

You looked at him in amazement. “How did you know that?”

“I was there, silly,” he teased, “and because I remember those things. James didn’t actually introduce us, but you still smiled at me.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” you spoke in disbelief, causing Sirius to smile.

“Please don’t make me wait any longer,” he pleaded, pulling your hips against his and planting a few soft kisses on the side of your neck.

“But what if James-“

“Fuck James.”

You searched his eyes for any sign that he may have not meant what he said, but when you found none, you pulled him into a desperate kiss, anxious to taste him after years of wondering, reminiscing on the kiss you shared on a dare years earlier.

It was better than you could have imagined, his lips moving perfectly in sync with yours as his hands needily grabbed at your hips.

Your hand remained on the back of his head, nervous that without holding him against you, Sirius would pull away. All you wanted was to continue kissing him, forever.

He broke away from you to pepper kisses down your jawline and then down your neck, sucking at a sweet spot about halfway down the length of your throat.

You let out a whimper at the feeling, and Sirius pulled away and looked at you. He grabbed your jaw in his hand, turning your head until you were looking directly at him.

“What?” you breathed out.

Sirius didn’t respond, he just continued to hold onto your jaw, forcing you to tilt your head upwards and give him more access to your neck. His hand moved from your jaw to the other side of your neck, anchoring himself as he sucked and kissed the now bruised skin on your neck. You let out a high pitched whine, and he growled into your neck at the sound.

Each time you made a small noise, Sirius sucked harder, desperate to pull more and more sounds from you.

Sirius backed you up as he kissed you, taking small steps until your back hit the wall, allowing Sirius to pull away and press his body against yours. He took your face in his hands and kissed you hard, pressing his hips into yours and eliciting a moan from you as he began to grind into you.

He pulled back to look into your eyes, watching your body jolt slightly upwards each time he pressed his hips into yours.

“You remember when we kissed during truth or dare?” Sirius asked.

“Mhm,” you responded, breathy.

“I went back that night and touched myself thinking about it,” he told you, one of his hands finding its way to your throat, “thinking about you.”

The confession combined with the feeling of his clothed cock against your clit made you moan. You weren’t aware Sirius ever saw you the way you saw him.

You blushed, but Sirius wasn’t done taunting you. “Have you ever touched yourself and thought of me?”

Your cheeks only turned more red. “I- I-“ you were too embarrassed to answer.

“Tell me,” he demanded, holding your throat against the wall, his breath on your cheek, “or did Evan take good enough care of you?”

You nodded your head no, eager to appease him. “I- I thought of you when I did stuff, even when I was with him.”

Sirius growled at your confession. “Naughty little thing.”

Sirius hoisted one of your legs up to his waist, causing your dress to raise and bunch at your waistline, allowing Sirius access to your most sensitive area.

He ran a finger over your underwear, feeling the wetness soak through. Your back arched from his touch, your lips parting as Sirius ran his finger along the seam, slowly dipping his hand to run his finger between your folds.

“You’re so wet for me,” Sirius cooed, circling his finger around your clit.

You anchored yourself on his shoulders. Sirius’s eyes never left yours as he moved his fingers faster and faster, watching your back arch and your body react to his touch.

He slowly inserted two fingers into your soaking wet hole, setting a slow pace as he fucked you with his fingers.

He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting that particularly good spot within your walls, causing your legs to shake a little.

“Shit,” you whined, your head slamming against the wall the moment you threw it back. Sirius picked up the pace, watching your eyebrows crease in pleasure.

It wasn’t your first time, and you usually lasted longer, but years and years of pent up lusting over Sirius were taking their toll on you. “Sirius, fuck, I-“

“Aweh, gonna come for me already, doll? You like me that much?” Sirius teased.

“Y-yes,” you cried out.

Sirius sped up his actions even further, your climax hitting you as Sirius kissed you to swallow your moans. He pulled his fingers out of you after you came down from your high, locking eyes with you as he sucked your juices off of them. It was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen.

You began to slowly sink down against the wall, but Sirius grabbed your arms and pulled you back up. “Not today,” he stated.

“But-“

“But nothing,” he cut you off, “tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Don’t worry about me.”

“But what if I want to worry about-“

“Y/N, shut up.”

“I-“

“You’ve spent ages giving your attention to me. Let me repay the favor.”

You took a deep breath. “Okay,” you agreed.

“Now tell me what you want.”

You were embarrassed, and aroused by the dominance you had always daydreamed Sirius had in the bedroom. Looking up at him, him standing over you and demanding you tell him what you want, made you feel like the little girl that was so in awe of him the very first time you saw him.

“I want you,” you spoke.

Sirius smiled. “Good girl, but that’s not enough.”

“Please don’t make me say it,” you begged.

Sirius only looked at you expectantly, as if to say that he was, indeed, going to make you say it. You took a deep breath, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks. You were in the brink of having Sirius the way you had always wanted, and you were not going to let yourself get in your own way.

“I want you to fuck me, Sirius. Please.”

Sirius growled and pulled you over to the bed, pushing you down and crawling over you.

He roughly pushed your dress up to your waist, pulling your underwear down your legs and slapping your core. You jolted upward and gasped at the sudden pain.

Sirius unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them, along with his boxers, down. He ran a hand up and down the length of his shaft, poking the head of his cock through your folds.

You whimpered are the contact, and Sirius threw his head back, moving his cock through your folds and allowing for your wetness to lubricate him. The feeling was heavenly, but you needed more.

“Siri-“

The nickname almost drove him into a frenzy. You had never heard anyone call him that, it just came out. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them both above your head with one hand as the other lined his tip up with your entrance. “Fuck, keep calling me that.”

“Siri, please,” you begged, the anticipation nearly killing you.

Sirius gave you a wicked smile, pushing his cock into you until he bottomed out. Your back arched at the sensation, and Sirius took the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you flush against him.

“Sirius, shit,” you whimpered. The angle was overwhelming.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Sirius whispered, his voice breathy as he began to push and pull in and out of you. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his black hair falling into his face.

Sirius maintained a steady pace for a few moments, allowing you to adjust to his size.

Sirius was putting even more pressure on your wrists with each thrust, leaning his weight onto them as he tried to maintain self control, but you felt so fucking good underneath him. You could see him struggling, trying to keep the slower pace for your sake, but that’s not what you wanted either.

“Siri,” you said, catching his attention as he lifted his head to meet your gaze, “harder.”

“You sure?” he checked.

“Fuck me, Siri, please.”

Your begging was enough for him to let his self control go, pulling your waist even closer to him (and subsequently even higher) as he picked up the pace, snapping his hips against yours with each violent thrust. Sirius let go of your wrists to hold his weight up with an arm next to your head.

He kissed your neck, sucking on a sweet spot just below your earlobe. You whined and moaned, completely wound up in the pleasure you had touched yourself thinking about for so long. You had a crush on Sirius for forever, and finally getting to feel him inside of you, holding you, grunting in your ear, kissing down your neck-

You began to squeeze Sirius’s cock, your second orgasm approaching rapidly as your brain reminded itself how long you had wanted this. The feeling only made Sirius more feral, his thrusts becoming harder and his pubic bone hitting your clit with each snap of his hips.

“Sirius, I- I’m-“

“Fuck yes come for me,” Sirius said, fucking you as hard as he possible could.

You came with a loud cry of his name, your thighs shaking as you squeezed around Sirius’s cock.

The feeling was nearly too much for him, but he was determined not to let go yet. He slowed his pace to an excruciatingly slow push and pull as you rode out your high, giving you time to breathe before he started to fuck into you again.

Your body was convulsing beneath him, your juices coating his cock and allowing for even more lubrication, and you could hear the wetness with each hit of his hips.

You were overstimulated, and therefore no longer in control of the high pitched noises leaving your lips, egging Sirius on even more. You were on the brink of crying, it felt so good, and when Sirius heard a cry-like crack in your voice, he rutted his hips into you a final few times before he pulled out of you, cursing as he spilled his seed onto your stomach.

He took a moment to collect himself, pressing his forehead against yours as you both calmed your breathing. He then rolled over to lay down next to you. You turned to face one another, and you began to run your fingers through his hair, twirling a face-framing strand around your pointer as he smiled at you.

You were pulled out of your daze when there was a violent rapping against the door. “Pads! You in there? Open up.”

James.

You scrambled to stand and fix your hair, pulling your dress down and doing your best to keep quiet.

“Whatcha want?” Sirius called back. You glared daggers his direction for responding. “How is he even still standing?” Sirius whispered to you, referencing how drunk James had been earlier.

“You gotta come see this,” James responded, opening the door slightly. You ran behind the door, trying to hide from your brother and hoping he wouldn’t fully enter the room. “Are you at least a little decent? Who you got in here?” James didn’t have a care in the world when he was drunk.

Sirius ran up to the door, a blanket in the hand he held over his bottom half to cover himself. He grabbed the door and prevented James from opening it any further. “No one, what are you tryna show me?”

“At least put pants on,” James said, turning his back to the doorway, “I’ll be out here. Christ, Pads.”

Sirius shut the door, rushing to the bed to find his clothes and cover himself before re-approaching the door. He leaned over to you, giving you a genuine smile before placing a sweet, intimate kiss on your lips. He pulled away and you exchanged a glance, your cheeks red and a smile on your face, before Sirius opened the door and left the room.

#sirius black #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagines #sirius black smut #sirius black fanfic #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders era imagines #marauders era smut #marauders era fanfic

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michellesneptune · 29 days ago

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HOW THE MOON SIGNS ACT WHEN THEY LOVE YOU pt. 2

cancer moon/4h

ultimate cuddlers!!!

this is really biased and feral but i feel like people are here for the tea??

although i think they can be extremely sweet and loving, my opinion remains the same: not all cancers are to be trusted. i think it’s heavenly to be in their good graces, but i also feel like the closer you get, the harder it becomes to be genuinely accepted by them. that is, of course, if they don’t see you as fully deserving of their love. i have yet to be in a relationship with a cancer sun/moon that gives me their full trust. i always feel like they’re frugal with their love towards me. their intentions seem a little hmmm unclear? like they will not speak up about something they don’t accept about you but slowly, in their hearts, they turn away from you??

i am of course speaking solely from my experience. moon is at home in cancer, embodying the archetype of Demeter — the goddess of fertility. when Demeter gets back her beloved daughter, she blesses the whole earth with months of fertile spring. however, when things don’t go her way and Persephone returns to Hades, everyone has to suffer from her sadness during the barren winter months.

if they perceive you as a really worthy partner, they will spoil you with affection. nevertheless, i’d rather not get the short end of their stick!

leo moon/5h

leos have this innate need to feel proud of their lovers. potential partners should possess the it factor about them, da special sparkle. this also applies to their friends! it makes sense, as the sun in them shines so bright, they want their people to illuminate as brightly.

i believe their standards are even higher than virgos’ or capricorns’ and it’s not talked about enough! leos will not engage with just anyone! they have this splash of royalty in them, they can sense a weak self-esteem from a mile.

they want to be able to talk and talk and boast about you. and they want you to make them feel like the only girl in the world.

but here’s the clue. if they feel like you’ve become too boring, their loyalty won’t let them break up with you but slowly the flames stop burning. i’ve seen this happen in a leo moon-taurus moon relationship which makes sense, as taurus prefers persistent, daily acts of service that build a steady, reliable love over time, whereas leo lives for the drama, for the promise of an eternal love, big displays of affection, achieving greatness together.

i’m so sorry if this sounds harsh. i find leo placements to be lovely, all the people i hold dearest to me have them (it’s my descendant sign!). they’re so so open and warm, nearly everything is easy with them.

scorpio moon/8h

i need a scorpio moon friend right. now.

they seem like small, adorable babies who will give up everything for the true, devoted love. their feelings’ depth knows no bounds. extremely loyal, obsessive in the best way possible, what they seek in the other person is a safe haven to hide all their emotions in.

they’re portrayed as very secretive and closed off, even manipulative, but inside they are dying to show somebody their real self. because yeah, behind the darkness there is a small sleepy kitten i feel like.

also here’s the thing: they didn’t choose the darkness, it chose them. their intensity is draining for you, but it’s them who have to deal with it non stop. their emotions are turbulent and it’s often hard to be peaceful, but if you’re willing to accept them as they are and share your own darkest vulnerabilities, they’re yours forever.

aquarius moon/11h

these natives are the best of friends that you could ever wish for! they’re extremely invested in their friend groups, always making sure to initiate contact and check in. they need this as much as they need to breathe and eat! as we know, aquarius is traditionally ruled by saturn, so maybe that’s why they act like glue, keeping their friendships alive, not letting the bonds fall apart as they often sadly do without proper nourishing!

in this situation though, a hierarchy is formed and, sorry to inform the hoes, you come after bros :((.

these guys can be so unpredictable with their feelings i guess there’s no formula on how to get them. i would say befriend them first and then be eccentric enough to still spark the electric interest, the one that they seek in potential partners.

what’s worth noting is the fact that aquarius is a fixed sign, so whatever their quirks may be, they ultimately are loyal and devoted. they are a great paradox and even if they seem detached, they pay attention to their surroundings. whom they need is a persona as big as theirs, someone that shares their passion for the world and everything it has to offer, preferably concerned with big ideas and humanitarian causes. they notice magic in the mundane so their spouse needs to be special as well! when they find you and you find them, you become their person.

the bond they create with lovers might seem unusual to those of more traditional views. aquarius natives need their time away and a lot of solo time to detach and recharge. however, in turn, they will blow your mind with extraordinary thoughts and you will never look at life the same!

#astro observations #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astro placements #moon sign

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thef1diary · 2 months ago

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Hands Full | O. Piastri

Kinktober 8/11 - Nipple Play

Summary: while you’re upset with him for forgetting about date night, Oscar can’t stop thinking about your boobs

warnings: 18+ smut, lil bit of angst at the beginning, nipple play, dry humping, tit fucking

wc: 4k

kinktober masterlist

Standing over him with your hands on your hips, you narrow your eyes, trying to stay stern. “My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” you say, your voice laced with playful exasperation as you catch Oscar staring at the little V of your dress for the millionth time. With you standing so close, your chest is practically at his eye level, making it hard for him to resist sneaking a glance. His guilty grin only deepens as his gaze darts back up to your face, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, though the apology is far from sincere. Before you can follow up with another scolding remark, he takes hold of your hips, his grip firm but coaxing, and pulls you down into his lap. His legs spread slightly to accommodate you as you settle against him, and you feel the warmth of his hands sliding up your sides.

“But honestly,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble as one hand drifts to cup your breast, his thumb brushing teasingly over your nipple through your dress, “can you really blame me for getting a little distracted?”

His touch is bold now, fingers tracing the shape of your curves as he brings you closer. You feel the heat of his breath against your neck as he dips his head, pressing a slow kiss just below your collarbone.

“I mean,” he continues, his voice husky as his other hand slides up to join in, squeezing gently, “when you’re standing there looking like this, how am I supposed to focus on anything else?” He pulls back just enough to look up at you, the dark intensity in his eyes making your pulse quicken as his hands continue to explore, his touch igniting a trail of heat along your skin.

You pull back a little, placing your hands on his chest to create some distance, your gaze turning stern. “I would’ve loved this attention during dinner, Oscar,” you say, the sting of disappointment still fresh in your voice. “You completely forgot about our date night.”

Oscar’s playful expression falls away, replaced by a look of genuine regret as he meets your eyes. His hands rest on your waist, his grip tightening slightly as if to keep you close despite the distance your words have created. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of remorse. “I messed up. I got caught up with things and lost track of time, but that’s not an excuse. I should’ve been there with you.”

His thumbs trace small circles against your hips, and he lets out a breath, his gaze never leaving yours. The sincerity in his tone, the way his hands hold you so gently, almost makes you forget why you were frustrated in the first place. Then, with a tenderness that melts the last of your resistance, he tilts his head up and brings his lips to yours, the kiss soft and hesitant at first, as if seeking your forgiveness.

The kiss deepens, slow and sweet, his mouth moving with a careful urgency, like he’s trying to make up for every lost minute. One of his hands slides up to cup your face, the touch warm and reassuring as he pulls you closer, his lips molding perfectly against yours. You can feel the unspoken apology in every caress, the quiet promise that he’d never leave you waiting again, and despite yourself, you find it impossible not to kiss him back, your frustration already slipping away with each tender caress.

You break the kiss, pulling back just enough to gauge his expression, the playful glint in his eyes rekindling some of your earlier mischief. “I dressed up for you, you know,” you say, a teasing lilt in your voice as you let your hands slide down his chest.

Oscar’s grin returns, wide and genuine. “Mm, and I want to appreciate that outfit properly,” he replies, his tone filled with playful intent.

“Is that so?” you respond, feigning indifference as a smile threatens to break free.

“Definitely,” he insists, his gaze already drinking you in. “Show me what I missed.”

With a lighthearted laugh, you shuffle off his lap, preparing to indulge him. You spin around in a little twirl, your dress flaring out around you as you complete the motion. You catch his eyes widening, a look of awe crossing his face as he takes in the sight of you.

When you turn back to him, you find him watching with an intensity that sends a thrill down your spine. “Wow,” he breathes, his appreciation evident in the way his eyes glisten. “You look incredible.”

You settle back onto his lap, a smirk dancing on your lips as you catch the lingering spark of admiration in his gaze. But as you sit down, his eyes drift again, falling to the peak of cleavage your dress revealed. You can’t help but roll your eyes, a teasing smile still lingering.

“Really, Oscar?” you chide, lifting an eyebrow. “Again?”

He feigns innocence, but the mischievous grin on his face tells a different story. “I can’t help it,” his voice drops to a playful murmur as his hands wander back to your hips, thumbs brushing against the soft fabric of your dress. “You look too good for me to resist.”

You try to keep your tone light, but the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you. “Focus, Osc, we were having a serious conversation, remember?”

“Serious conversation?” He chuckles softly, shaking his head, still unable to resist the allure of your figure. “You can’t just put these right in front of me like that and expect me to keep my composure.”

You take a hold of his hands, guiding it firmly to your chest, a teasing smile on your face. “Better now? You get to see and touch,” you said, your voice playful yet sultry.

Oscar’s fingers envelop your breasts, your soft curves nearly spilling over his palms as he savors the freedom to explore. “Much,” he breathes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes dark with desire as they lock onto yours.

His hands knead your boobs over the fabric, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch. The thin material of your dress offers little barrier, letting you feel the heat of his touch seeping through, sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb flicks over one nipple, the pressure light but teasing, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck as his hands continue to explore, tracing the line of your cleavage with an appreciative hum. “God, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent, his breath hot against your skin. He shifts his grip slightly, cupping your tits more fully, his palms pressing them together in a way that makes you arch instinctively toward him, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

The pads of his thumbs work slow circles over your nipples, the teasing rhythm making your pulse quicken, and you can feel a smirk forming against your neck as he hears the way your breathing changes. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers, his voice dripping with playful satisfaction as he watches your reaction.

You reach up slowly, your eyes locked on his, and pull the neckline of your dress lower. “Please,” you mumble, asking for more, anything to soothe the sudden ache in your tits that only he could relive.

The fabric gives way with a soft rustle, sliding down until your tits spill out, exposed to the cool air and his heated gaze. Oscar’s breath catches, and you watch as his eyes darken with unmistakable hunger, his gaze drinking in the sight of your bare skin.

Then, his lips part slightly, and he exhales a shaky breath, the need evident in his expression. “Fuck,” he murmurs, almost reverently, his voice hoarse as his eyes flicker up to meet yours again. It’s as if he’s barely keeping himself together, the sight of you so close and so exposed making him practically salivate.

Without a moment’s hesitation, his hands return to your chest, this time with a bolder touch, his fingers sinking into your flesh as he cups your boobs. The warmth of his palms contrasts deliciously with the cool air, and he gives a soft groan as he squeezes gently, like he’s savoring every inch of you. His thumbs brush over your nipples with a firmer pressure, his touch more confident now that there’s nothing between him and your skin.

Oscar leans in closer, his breath hot against your collarbone as he presses his lips there, planting open-mouthed kisses that make your skin tingle. His tongue flicks out, tracing a line across your chest before he pulls back to look at you, his eyes glinting with desire.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasps, his voice thick with need as his hands continue to explore, making your pulse race with every slow, deliberate caress.

As his mouth closes around your nipple, his tongue swirling in slow, teasing circles, a surge of pleasure rushes through you, instinctively making you grind down against him as his name leaves your lips.

The heat of his mouth and the way his lips tug gently at your sensitive skin send shivers coursing through your body. Your hips press harder into him, the friction between your bodies creating an aching need that spreads like wildfire.

Oscar’s grip on your waist tightens as he senses the way your body responds, his low, appreciative groan vibrating against your chest. He switches to your other breast, wrapping his lips around the peak, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. Your head falls back, a quiet moan escaping as your hips roll instinctively, pressing down against him, your body seeking more of the friction that ignites a slow-burning heat within.

The rhythm of your movements grows more urgent, driven by the waves of sensation he’s drawing from your nipples. Each flick of his tongue sends sparks shooting through your core, and you move instinctively, grinding down harder, your body chasing the pleasure he’s giving you.

He hums against your skin, the vibration making you shiver as he pulls you closer, savoring the way your body responds to him. His free hand slides up your back, fingers curling around your nape, guiding you even closer as he switches to the other boob, lavishing the same attention there, his teeth grazing lightly before soothing with his tongue.

“Just like that,” he murmurs between breaths, his voice rough with need as he looks up at you, his gaze darkened with a hunger that matches your own. “You’re so beautiful like this.” His words are a low rasp that only fuels the fire building between you, urging you to move even closer, pressing yourself against him as his hands and mouth continue to explore, drawing out every ounce of desire.

Oscar’s tongue swirls around your nipple with a slow, deliberate tease, sending tingling waves of pleasure through your chest and down to your core. Each flick feels like it draws you deeper into a heady fog, and when his teeth scrape gently against the sensitive peak, a breathless moan escapes your lips. You press down harder against him, your thighs squeezing his sides as you rock against the steady firmness of his body, seeking more of the friction that seems to set you ablaze.

He switches again, his lips finding your other breast, sucking the soft skin into his mouth while his hand cups the neglected side, his thumb rolling over your nipple with just the right amount of pressure. The rhythm of his tongue and fingers works together to unravel you, each caress intensifying the needy ache coursing through your body.

“Oscar…” you breathe out, your voice trembling with every surge of pleasure that rolls through you. The way his name falls from your lips seems to spur him on, his groan vibrating against your skin, his mouth working more eagerly as he shifts the weight of his body beneath you. His hands roam over your back and waist, one sliding down to grip your hip and guide your movements, making sure you keep grinding down on him, right where you can feel the weight of his cock pressing back against you.

The friction between your bodies builds into something overwhelming, a sweet, torturous tension that spirals tighter with every brush of his tongue, every squeeze of his hand. His lips tug at your nipple, then soothe it with his tongue, alternating between rough and tender until you’re writhing, your nails digging into his shoulders as you struggle to hold on to any semblance of control.

But you can’t. The sensations are too much, too intense. Each touch feels like it’s driving you closer to the edge, and the more he devours you with his mouth, the more you can feel yourself unraveling.

“Please…” you gasp, not even sure what you’re pleading for, only that you need more, need him to push you over that final precipice. He seems to sense it, his grip tightening as he pulls you down against him in time with the deepening suck of his mouth on your breast, the rhythm perfect and merciless.

Then, as if he knows exactly how to drive you wild, his teeth graze the swollen peak again, just enough to send a shock of pleasure straight through you, and it’s like something inside you snaps. The heat coils tight and bursts, your body arching into him as a cry escapes your lips, your hips grinding down harder as the wave of release crashes over you.

Oscar’s mouth doesn’t let up. He keeps lavishing your tits with attention, as if coaxing out every last bit of your pleasure, his tongue swirling, his lips tugging gently as you tremble above him. He holds you close, savoring the way you shudder in his arms, his soft groan echoing your own sounds of bliss, letting you ride out every pulse and wave until you’re left breathless and spent against him.

When the aftershocks finally start to subside, he presses one last lingering kiss to your nipples before looking up at you, his eyes still dark and full of desire, as if he’s not nearly finished yet. “You’re stunning,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that sends another shiver down your spine. His fingers trail up your sides, drawing you back into his embrace as his lips find yours.

Your lips part as Oscar kisses you, his mouth hot and insistent against yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, making your senses swirl as his tongue brushes against yours with a hunger that matches the intensity of your kiss. You let yourself sink into the moment, your body still buzzing from the pleasure he just drew from you.

As you shift slightly to press closer to him, your hips move instinctively, rolling down against his lap. The hard, unmistakable pressure beneath you sends a jolt through your body, your breath catching in your throat. You hadn’t realized he was still so hard, the weight and heat of him pressing right against your cunt, even through the layers of clothing that separate you.

A soft, surprised moan escapes you, and your hips give another involuntary grind, the friction sending a delicious shock of sensation rippling through your already sensitive body. Oscar’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as his breathing grows heavier, his lips parting against yours in a low, guttural groan.

“Fuck…” he mutters, his voice strained, the need in it unmistakable. His gaze meets yours, the desire in his dark eyes making your pulse quicken all over again. The way he looks at you, like he’s barely holding himself back, only intensifies the throbbing ache that starts to build between your thighs once more.

You can feel the firmness of his cock against you, and it’s almost impossible to resist the urge to move again, to feel that delicious friction that had nearly made you come undone. As you shift experimentally, you watch his reaction, his jaw tightening as his eyes flutter shut for a moment. When they open again, there’s a hunger in his gaze that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Still so worked up, huh?” you tease, a faint, breathless laugh escaping you. It’s meant to sound confident, but the way your voice trembles betrays how affected you are by the realization that you can feel him, hard and needy, beneath you.

You press one more lingering kiss to his lips before sliding off his lap. Oscar’s brows furrow with a mix of surprise and curiosity, his eyes following your every move. As you sink down onto the floor, you reach behind and unfasten your dress, letting the fabric slide down your body and pool at your knees before you shuffle it off completely. Now, you’re left in nothing but your underwear, kneeling between his parted legs.

The air feels cooler against your bare skin, and you can sense Oscar’s gaze raking over you, the hunger in his expression deepening as he takes in the sight of you on your knees before him. You place your hands on his thighs, your fingers curling into the firm muscle as you lean in closer, your eyes flicking up to meet his. There’s a flush on his cheeks, and the way his chest rises and falls tells you that he’s just as affected as you are.

Slowly, you run your hands up his thighs, feeling the tension in his body, the way he practically vibrates with need. You inch closer, your touch light and teasing, as you slip your fingers to the waistband of his pants, hooking them beneath the fabric. His breath catches when your hands brush against the outline of his erection, hard and straining beneath the fabric.

“Osc,” you murmur, your voice low and full of want as you look up at him through your lashes, “I want to take care of you, too.” The way you say it is almost a plea, the desire evident in every syllable, and the way his eyes darken in response sends a thrill through you.

You slide your hands off his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles, and look up at him with a teasing smile. “I want you to use me.” Your fingers trail up to your chest, and you press your boobs together, giving him a clear invitation. You open your mouth, letting your spit drool down to your cleavage, slicking it up. “Fuck my tits, Oscar, I want to feel you there.”

His breath hitches, and for a moment, he seems frozen, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then, as if a dam has broken, he moves quickly, his hands fumbling to undo his belt and push his pants down enough to free his cock. You can see how hard he is, the sight making your pulse quicken with anticipation.

Oscar shifts closer, positioning himself between your breasts, his heated gaze locked onto yours. You squeeze your tits around him, enveloping his cock in your soft flesh. His low groan reverberates in the quiet room as he starts to move, the tip of his cock brushing against your skin with each thrust, your saliva and his precum allowing him to move easily.

The feeling of him sliding between your boobs, hot and hard, sends a rush of heat through you. You look up at him, your hands pressing your chest tighter around his length, encouraging him to move faster, deeper. “Just like that,” you whisper, your voice breathy with arousal. “Don’t hold back.”

Oscar’s hands find their way to your shoulders for balance as he picks up the pace, his hips rolling forward with increasing urgency. His cock slips between your breasts in a steady rhythm, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. His eyes are locked on you, his jaw clenched with the effort to keep from losing control too soon.

The sight of him above you, his expression twisted in raw desire, makes your own body respond in kind. You can feel the heat building in your core, your own arousal growing as you watch him edge closer to coming undone.

You look up at him, your voice breathless and filled with need as you speak. “Oscar, love, I want you to cum on my tits,” you urge, your words coming out as a low, desperate plea. You squeeze your boobs tighter around him, watching his expression falter as his thrusts become more erratic, each one pushing him closer to the brink.

His grip on your shoulders tightens, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps. “Fuck,” he groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches himself slide between your tits, the sight clearly driving him wild. You keep urging him on, your tone soft and coaxing, “I want to see it… feel it. Let go for me, Osc.”

Your words are the final push he needs. His hips snap forward one last time, his whole body tensing as a deep, guttural moan rips from his throat. You stick your tongue out and he watches you intently, the sight of you waiting to taste him pushing him over the edge. The first hot spurt lands on your tongue, and you keep it out, eager for more as he continues to release, each pulse of his climax painting across your chest and lips. The warmth of it makes your skin tingle, and you close your eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of his pleasure marking you.

When you open your eyes again, his gaze is locked on yours, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire in his expression. He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he comes down from the high, and the sight of you covered in his release seems to mesmerize him.

Without hesitation, you lick your lips, swallowing what landed on your tongue, the act making his breath hitch. There’s a flicker of something primal in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you—glowing, breathless, and unashamed. It’s as if seeing you like this has only deepened the hunger in him, the intensity in his gaze making your pulse race all over again.

As he sees your tits covered in his cum, an idea sparks in his mind, something too filthy for him to resist. His breath hitches, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face as he leans closer, his eyes dark with desire. “Would you consider getting ‘em pierced?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

The question hangs in the air between you, and his imagination runs wild. He envisions how the nipple jewelry would look glistening with his release, each glimmering piece a reminder of this moment, of the way he worships your body. The thought makes his heart race—fuck, he’d be even more obsessed with your tits than he already is.

You meet his gaze, your own pulse quickening at the idea, the playfulness of it only adding to the heat in the air. There’s something intoxicating about his suggestion, and you can’t help but smile at the depths of his desire for you.

He pulls you back into his lap, the warmth of his body enveloping you as he settles you against him. His fingers brush over your skin, and you shiver as he spreads the remnants of his release across your tits, savoring the slick warmth as he traces his fingers along your curves.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispers, “Just imagine how fucking beautiful you’d look with those piercings… dripping with my cum.” The idea sends another thrill through you, and you find yourself nodding, lost in the depths of his gaze, caught between the thrill of his words and the intoxicating pleasure of the moment.

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i-loved-silly · 5 months ago

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WOLVERINE x READER x DEADPOOL — fuckup twinsies

dp&w spoilers!!

So I had a silly idea. Sorry if it’s out of character, I haven’t written for canon characters in a fat while but these two are stuck in my head. Enjoy :3

POV: you’re a dimension hopper : sent to the Void as a punishment for doing your thing. Damnit

Dust. Sand. Desert. That was all you knew ever since you were banished here. The place you were basically forced to call home—funnily enough, (actually it’s rather sad) you had forgotten what your real home was. A large, and I mean LARGE amount of timeline touching and dimension hopping does that to you.

By spending years of visiting dimensions and maybe messing a couple things up, you damaged your own timeline. Simply because you wanted to take Mr Captain America’s shield back to your home dimension. What can you say, a little artifact doesn’t hurt, right?

Except it did.

Now you’re stuck here, and honestly? It’s fine. You had nothing to return to anyway. At least you thought. TVA explained it that way, anyways. Everything was fine. You spent your years here surviving and avoiding Cassandra Nova by making your own little underground hobbit hole. How cute.

Everything was the same everyday—you hid out, occasionally left to find food and materials, came back to safety. Until one day you heard something while out scavenging—almost like distant yells? From above you??—You looked up and was shocked to see two figures falling out of the sky and barreling straight for you.

"OOMF --" You were thrown onto the sand on your back, you swore you felt a couple bones break...or something. All your belongings in your little ripped backpack went flying around you and the others stabbed into your back. Then there was the weight on top of you. A muscular , red, and talkative weight.

"Owww, oh fuck, that hurt. I hit bones. I just hit someon--oh." Deadpool groaned, snapping his elbows back into place to get a good look at you. He blinked. "Well lookey here, who the hell are you? Wait, did i kill them?" He gasped as he saw your pained scowl.

Wade frantically shook you by the shoulders. Getting hit by something from that high should have killed you. You coughed, ugh...your whole body hurt. You don’t remember if you gave yourself overpowered abilities before hopping into this dimension…or the last one. Was it during the time you went to the Loki-verse? Season one, episode five? Nah.

"Get off of them," Logan grunted, dusting himself off from his spot a few feet away. Hey, at least you weren’t hit by both of them. "See what you did, you fucking idiot? Get away from them."

"Woah, okay! First of all, it's not like I wanted to crash into someone like a wrecking ball, got it? I am not Miley. But look, they're fine!" He shook you by the shoulder again and you spat out a bit of blood.

"Guhh..." You groaned, rolling over. Yep, your bones were definetly crushed.

"We're not here to poke around, Wade. We're on a mission." Logan glanced at your beat up form wearily--oh well, if you weren't dead by now you'll be fine.

"Fine," Wade let go of you, letting your body flop back onto the sand with another "thud" on impact. "Oops, Im sooo sorry. I-..oh come on! Don't you have at least a little bit of a curious tickle? They can help us." He whined, gesturing to you and to Logan.

"They're a stranger, bub. Just...leave em there." He hesitated, then grunted and turned the other way.

You groaned in pain again--seems like they're your only lines--and sat up on your elbows. Your head was pounding and suddenly it was too bright outside. "W-wait..I’m fine..just let me.." You pressed your palm against your forehead.

Wade leaned down in front of you, placing his hands on his knees. "Oh, you're alive. Good. Why are you here, little buddy?"

You tried laughing nervously but a cough interrupted you. Right, there was sand in your lungs. "I uh...couple years ago I touched a timeline I shouldn't have. More like, a lot of timelines. Kinda-sorta fucked up."

Wade let out a loud gasp and placed his hands on the sides of his face, then made a giddy noise. "Eek! Fuck up twinsies! You heard that, Logan? We aren't the only dimensional fuck ups!" He was oddly enthusiastic, the scruffy guy in the distance wasn't so much.

Actually now that you think about it, he seemed a bit enraged. Just a bit. “Who the hell is we?”

"Who are you again?" You muttered, grunting as you worked on standing up. Wade extended a hand and you took it, before you could thank him—he quite literally yanked you up by the arm like a fucking ragdoll. You hit his chest and your eyes widdened.

"How the heck do you not know me? I mean you probably don’t know him, that sexy beast of a man is Logan, professionally Wolverine. Not a very good one though. Anyway, I'm Wade Wilson, but you can call me Wade. Or Deadpool. Or the Merc with a Mouth. Or the Chimichanga Bandit. Or—"

"Wade, shut the fuck up."

Wait.

“Wait, you’re Deadpool and Wolverine? Like the real ones?”

PART 2

#deadpool #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool x reader #wolverine x reader #x reader #marvel #deadpool and Wolverine x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #ils-dpw

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ayumip · 20 days ago

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𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

boyfriend!nanami x afab!reader; modern au

word count: 1.5k

mdni, 18+ smut; teasing, oral, overstim, he's pussy drunk (rightfully so), not proofread and probs so many grammatical errors... lmk if im missing anything <3

nanami’s a gentleman, there’s no way around it: he pulls out your chair, letting you sit first during date nights; allows his shoulder to get soaked during rainy days just so you can stay dry; and listens to your rambles despite being tired and on the verge of falling asleep. however, when it comes to his work, he really needs to stop drowning himself in it.

it was late at night, you pried open the door to his office. he was sitting at his desk, unmoving for the past 3 hours, filling out mountains and mountains of documents.

“ken?” you walked over to him, bringing him a cup of tea.

“yes darling? what is it?” he turned and looked at you with a tired expression, taking a sip of the brewed tea. he looked quite exhausted, his work taking a toll on him.

“can it wait? i really need to get this done, darling” he said with a sigh, going back to his paperwork, clearly not wanting any distractions as he scanned over the document in his hand.

“can i sit on your lap? please…” you muttered, feeling guilty for distracting him. however, your desire for him, and his touch, outweighed your sense of guilt.

giving you a soft smile, nanami rolled his chair back slightly, patting his lap as a signal for you to come and stay on his lap. making yourself comfortable, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he wrapped one of his around your waist, pulling you closer. he then returned his attention to the papers scattered on his desk. the sounds of pen scratching filled the room as his pen moved across the pages again once more.

as the clock ticks closer to midnight, nanami’s breath hitched as you nuzzled your face against his neck, the warmth of your breath against his skin sent shivers down his spine. he attempted to ignore it, but fuck was it hard.

“darling— you’re…making it real hard to concentrate…” he muttered, voice slightly strained as he tried his best to suppress whatever desire he had, focusing once again on the work in front of him.

“...ken, baby…take a break…” his heart quickened at the sound of your sweet, enticing whine. it made him feel weak. god, you were irresistible, and you knew that. you, not so subtly, started grinding your hips against him, rolling and pressing your core against his.

“fuck- darling… behave yourself.” he clenched his jaw and let out a low growl, the arm wrapped around your waist tightening his grip on you in an attempt to ground your movements.

you let out a whine as protest. you wanted him, no, you needed him. he’s been so preoccupied with work lately—what about you! he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your whiny tone.

“so needy, trying to tempt me? you little minx” he whispered in a teasing voice, his breath hot against your skin whilst tracing small circles on your hip.

“...no…” you retorted, trying to act all innocent; but he knew better.

“no? then how come you’re squirming against me…hmm..?” nanami whispered, trailing kissing along the side of your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin.

“thats-!” *you gasped at his ministrations, biting your lip to conceal your sounds as he sucked on your neck, leaving traces behind.

“what’s more important…your work- or me…” you teased back, though instead of sounding bold like you intended, you sounded breathless, needy for more.

how unfair, he thought. it was impossible to resist you if you begged for him like that.

“you, of course. you always come first — you know that. but, darling, i really need to finish these papers. please, just let me finish these last couple, and then i’m all yours. alright?" he pleaded softly, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes.

“…hmph” you got off his lap and stripped off your dress shirt, well, his to be exact. underneath, you were wearing his favourite set. teasingly, you tossed the dress shirt onto his lap, full of your scent, his favourite perfume, and walked to the door of his home office.

nanami watched intently as you got off his lap. he picked up the shirt on his lap, filling the surrounding air with you, you and you. he let out a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his hair as he leaned back on his chair, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped.

“fuck— that’s just not fair…” he muttered to himself as he let his thoughts be consumed by you, and how fucking badly he wants you. he could feel the blood rushing downwards, losing his composure and whatever focus he had left on his work. “you’re playing a dangerous game, darling.”

“your work…or me…~” you looked absolutely sinful, breaking the last bit of resistance and self control nanami had left. all he could think about was you, how badly he wanted to touch you, how badly he wanted to have you. his work could wait, he couldn’t care less. to hell with it.

“you, always you.”

he rose from his chair, papers flying off his desk. in long strides, he made his way to you, pulling you into his arms. his hands roamed over your body hungrily as he kissed you deeply. his tongue explored your mouth passionately, leaving no room for you to breathe. you were kissed breathless.

“ken- bedroom…!” you whined out between kisses, moaning at his taste.

he didn’t need to be told twice. he swooped you up easily, one arm under your thighs as he picked you up bridal style, swiftly carrying you towards the bedroom. he was already so fucking turned on, and seeing you in arms, just made him impossibly harder. he was utterly whipped for you.

once inside, he hastily shut the door, gently laying you down onto the bed. his eyes hungrily roaming over your body. he climbed on top of you, kissing you deeply yet again. he was addicted to your taste, trailing kisses down your neck, claiming every inch of your skin.

“do..you like this new set? just bought it…f’ you…” you bashfully looked away as he chuckled. of course he likes it, he loved it even, it was driving him crazy. the lace of the lingerie hugged your curves perfectly, making you even more alluring to him.

“fuck, darling, i love it…”

“…you’ve worked hard, ken ... have a treat” you murmured, guiding his head down.

nanami let out a low, guttural sound at your words, smirking slightly as his body shuddered with desire at the thought of tasting you. he let you guide his head down, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed soft kisses against your inner thighs.

he sees the wet patch of arousal on your underwear, pressing his finger against it as you moaned from the sensation. he gave an experimental lick before prying the fabric aside, burying his face deeper between your thighs. he lapped up your essence, moaning at the sweet taste against his tongue, his hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you in place.

“oh…f-fuck…” you whimpered out, feeling his tongue swirl and suck at your clit. his fingers grazing up and down your folds before sinking one finger into your core, hitting deeply at your convulsing g-spot perfectly. he knows your body, maybe even better than you do.

“there we go darling…don’t hide yourself…i wanna hear you…” he cooed as you arched your back off the mattress, mewling out desperately as you dug your hands into his hair, pulling him closer. god, you were so responsive to him, and he couldn’t help but to grind his hips into the side of the bed, groaning and moaning into your cunt which sent vibrations, heightening the sensation you were feeling.

“baby- ‘m close…’m gonna-!” you cried out, grinding your hips upwards. you were gone, and the only thing in your mind was the mind-blowing pleasure your boyfriends was giving you. nanami continued to eat you out like a starving man, snaking his other arm up and towards your tits, caressing your soft mounds and rolling the sensitive nubs between his fingers.

your hips involuntarily buck upwards into his mouth, searching for more contact, more pleasure.

“that’s it, darling…let it out-” he groaned as he continued his actions, his tongue gently lapping at your sensitive flesh, eyes fixed upon you as you writhed and trembled under him.

“s-shit- kennn-!...’m cumming…’m cumming~!” you cried out as your vision flashes white, seeing the stars as your climax washes over you in waves. nanami lets out a moan as he feels you shudder and convulse around his fingers, immediately prodding his tongue to drink up all your essence.

it was so messy, his chin covered in your juices as he whispered against your core, voice thick and raspy with pleasure.

“fuck, that was beautiful darling…can you give me one more..?”

before you could even register, still coming down from your high, he started again, and didn’t stop.

oh, it’ll be a long night.

authors note: i was listening to chase atlantic when i wrote this and i honestly don't even remember what i’m writing. nanami is so ooc here bro hates working overtime but….yeah whatever-

#jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #kento nanami #jjk au #jjk x you #kento x reader #kento smut #jjk kento #HELLL YEAHHH

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