Anyone wanna be friends? I'm fun I promise 😂
Maybe bounce some fanfic ideas off each other?
Anyone wanna be friends? I'm fun I promise 😂
Maybe bounce some fanfic ideas off each other?
Young Mark trying to explain to your parents about his feelings for you.... but you're engaged to another guy.
Baby looks soooo nervous and sad😢🥺
she’s a maneater. 3
Eren was always big dog on campus. Anyone he wanted, he got, and this wasn’t up for debate. It was simply fact. He had been with countless women. Often meeting them on his nights out, weekends being the prime time to do so.
So, when he’d spotted you across the way at a frat party one night, he showed no hesitancy in nudging Armin and Jean. Red solo cup in hand, lifting his chin to point you out to the group of guys. It was his way of calling dibs on you, marking you as his.
They took you in as you made conversation with someone they could care less about. Skimpy dress that hugged your body in all the right ways, glossed over lips, and pretty nails with your hair falling softly against your shoulder blades. Even those cute little high heels of yours. Oh yeah, he’s gotta have that.
With a down of his drink, he’d made his way over to you and the both of you ended up chatting for some time. Sharing small laughs here and there, practically eye fucking each other all the while. Now what was talked about wasn’t important. It wasn’t until you lead each other to a vacant room upstairs that either of you started truly paying attention to one another, anyway.
Eren knew why he lead you up those steps, and through the door that he locked behind himself upon entering. Knew that he wanted you moaning and mewling beneath him. Begging for a moment to catch your breath as you were on the brink of collapse from his constant plunging into the deepest parts of your cunt.
So how he ended up kneeling in front of you on the floor as you sat on the edge of the bed, he hadn’t the slightest clue. Your bare foot quite literally on his face. Pedicured toes touching the tip of his nose, almost grazing his forehead.
“Now I’m gonna ride your dick, as much as I want, for however long I want. Got it, babe?”
The quickness that he lacked in response, you made up for tenfold. Because he must not have heard you.
“I said, got it? Babe.” You emphasized each and every word as you pushed your foot further on his face. Almost knocking him back on his palms before dropping it to his lap to run smoothly along his clothed cock. Feeling it hard and throbbing just through the fabric alone.
“Alright, damn. I heard you.” He snappily retorted.
With an arched eyebrow, you eyed him as your foot rubbed along his bulge. You could visibly see him fighting back a groan and you openly smirked at the fact. He could attempt to put up a fight all he wanted; but the fact of the matter was that he was turned on. No matter how demanding you were being.
Of course he wasn’t the only one feeling some kind of way in that moment. You were positive that as you had your leg high in the air, taunting him, he could see the wet splotch up your dress, in between your thighs, dampening your panties.
And Frankly, his answer wasn’t the reply you’d have liked. And he for sure had a mouth on him, but that was alright. You had him right where you wanted him. Knew he’d be the one begging in a couple of minutes. He just needed a tad bit more training. That’s all. Then he’d make such a good play thing.
He’d take a little longer than the others, but that was to be expected. I mean, what else if not disobedience from someone who was ‘top dog.’ And by god, did you love a man conquered.
rosexfics © 2021. do not copy, modify, or repost my work.
just helping your fake scenarios about joe.
You're Sherlock's little sister who, despite the best efforts of your three older siblings, turned out unfortunately normal. Or so they thought, right up until your death. Seven years ago, you disappeared off the face of the Earth. Not even Mycroft could find you, so naturally, your family assumed the worst. Sherlock definitely did. Helped with the funeral and everything. So how can he possibly find himself talking to a very much alive younger sister, under Jim Moriarty's watchful eye?
Before you read/warnings: Just over 3k words, fem reader, gun use, bomb mention.
The abandoned warehouse was sparsely lit. Shadows crept along the walls, devouring so much trash and abandoned machinery, cowering away from the brightness in the center of the warehouse. There, a tall heap of scrap metal and abandoned products dominated the surrounding emptiness, topped by a man who surveyed the desolate landscape of the warehouse like he owned the place. And, in fact, he did.
There was a dark shape on his lap, unidentifiable from a distance. Closer inspection would reveal a girl wrapped in a blanket, curled into a ball and fast asleep, her head buried in the man's chest. He ran his fingers absently through her hair as she slept, his eyes trained on the warehouse's only entrance.
The man's name was Moriarty. And the girl - well, woman, really - was you.
Moriarty was notorious throughout the world. The man was sly. Cunning. Ruthless. Prone to playing with his food. He was a man best avoided at all costs. And, like a black cat, if you were unlucky enough to have him cross your path, you'd best behave like your life depended on the outcome. Because it probably did.
Moriarty was in this warehouse to play a game. All he needed now was for the mouse to arrive. He continued stroking your hair. Watching. Waiting.
The door to the warehouse thundered open.
At last. The mouse.
Sherlock Holmes picked his way through the rubble to where the hungry cat sat waiting. “Moriarty!” he called.
“Quiet, Sherlock.” Moriarty held a reproachful finger to his lips, the lilt of his soft voice echoing through the warehouse. “You’ll wake the baby.”
“Baby?” retorted Sherlock sardonically. “I only see one baby here. And you’re already awake.”
You whimpered and shifted in your sleep.
Sherlock froze, realizing that he and Moriarty weren’t, in fact, alone.
Moriarty tutted and shook his head. “Told you, Sherlock," he sighed. "Now you’ve done it.”
“What have you done to her? Who is she?” Sherlock demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re implying, Sherlock.”
“No.” Moriarty’s tone had flash-frozen, instantly going from doe-eyed and innocent to icily razor sharp. “You are.”
The voices echoing around you were insistently tugging you towards consciousness, though they hadn’t quite succeeded yet. You stirred again, this time causing the blanket covering you to slip off your head and reveal your face to Sherlock.
“What’ve you done to her?” Sherlock whispered.
“Absolutely nothing.” Moriarity smirked down at him. “She simply got tired of waiting for you and fell asleep. My lap is one of her favorite places to do so, after all.”
“You’ve drugged her.”
“Have not!” Moriarty protested with mock indignance. “And if you keep shouting like that, you’re going to wake her up. I doubt she’ll be very happy with you if you do.” He looked down at you fondly. "Such a sweet thing," he murmured. "Such a sweet thing, and able to do the one thing you and your brother never could."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And what exactly is that thing, hmm?"
"Feel," Moriarty breathed. His thumb traced the soft line of your cheekbone. "She feels so deeply, Sherlock, so powerfully." He glanced up at Sherlock again, giving the man a pitying, piercing look. "And that is why I will beat you."
"Enough." Sherlock snapped. Moriarty shrugged, as if to say be my guest.
“Lyra!” Sherlock called. “Lyra! It’s going to be alright, Lyra, I’m here now. It's Sherlock. I’m going to get you out of here.”
The sound of that name, the one that had belonged to you so long ago, finally managed to wrench you out of your dreams and into consciousness. You rubbed your eyes, blinking under the visual assault of the harsh white light. "‘s going on?”
“He’s here, love.” Moriarity answered you without taking his piercing stare off Sherlock. “Have a good rest?”
You grumbled in answer, making Moriarty chuckle softly. “Which one of ‘em was stupid enough to actually show up?” you asked.
“Sherlock, on Mycroft’s information. But not before I sent him on one of those city-wide chases he seems to love so much.”
“Ugh. Figures. Mycroft was never one to do the dirty work himself.” You sat up, looking at Sherlock with interest. “How’s he taking it?”
“He’s not, yet. Still seems to think you’re here on my accord and not your own.”
You laughed, filling the warehouse with a sound like the light babble of a trickling brook.
The sound hit Sherlock like a bullet to the heart, knocking him back into the world of childhood memories. Images of you flashed across his mind. You were a newborn, in his arms for the first time, looking up at him with those big doe eyes. You were taking your very first steps, hesitantly toddling towards his open arms. You were proudly handing him a drawing of the two of you, thick purple crayon depicting two stick figures holding hands, respectively labelled "Lyra" and "Sherlock" in your untidy scrawl. You were handing him report cards and awards certificates and tests you were proud of and pictures of you and your friends on your latest adventure. He was with Mycroft, watching from a distance as you left on a first date with a boy that they both knew would break your heart someday, the two of them shaking their heads at the bittersweet fact that somehow, their youngest sister had turned out normal. Despite all of their best efforts, you had neatly avoided developing the superior intellects of your older brothers and sister. God knows how, but you had. The youngest Holmes sibling had undeniably turned out to be a perfectly regular child.
So how in the hell did he find himself standing here, watching his little sister laugh comfortably in Moriarty’s lap?
You finally managed to quell your laughter. "Oh, Sherlock," you sighed. "The look on your face. I wish I had a camera."
"What's he done to you, Lyra?" Sherlock's voice was sharp.
"Absolutely nothing, dear brother. Absolutely nothing." You smiled down at Sherlock from your lofty perch. "And it's y/n, now. I left 'Lyra' behind when I left you."
"But- but you weren't like us, you never-" He gestured at the scene around you. "You never did this, you never took after Eurus and Mycroft and I. You were so..." He struggled, searching for a suitable word. "Normal."
You laughed again, the sound sugar-sweet. "Was I, Sherlock?" You stood up, shedding the blanket that had covered you to reveal a skin-tight black crop top with long lace sleeves and a matching black pleated miniskirt. Floral black lace socks climbed their way out of your black combat boots and up your calf, coming to a stop just above your knee.
You picked your way down the rubble heap to the brother who hadn't seen you in so long, approaching him with confident strides until you were barely a foot away. "Think, Sherlock," you whispered, reaching up to toy with one of the buttons on his dark shirt. "Was I really such a stupid child compared to you? Or is that just what I wanted you to think?"
"You disappeared." he said, sidestepping your question. "Seven years ago. You disappeared off the face of the Earth. Not even Mycroft could find you, we thought you were dead."
"Lyra is dead, Sherlock," you said sweetly. "Lyra's been dead from the moment I left mum and dad. But Y/n?" You chuckled dangerously, a sound Sherlock had never thought you capable of making. "Oh, Y/n is positively thriving. And it's all thanks to James here, really."
"You've been working with him."
"So accusatory, Sherlock." Your tone was reproachful now. "You give him too much credit. No offense, James." Though the last sentence was directed over your shoulder to Moriarty, your eyes remained firmly fixed on Sherlock's.
"None taken," he drawled, dark eyes fixed on you and your brother. "You're doing excellently, darling. So entertaining to watch him squirm."
Sherlock's eyes flickered to Moriarty, then back to you.
"Oh, poor Sherlock," you cooed. "So confused, so desperately trying to figure out how he could have possibly missed all those signs about his little sister. Well, let me let you in on a little secret." You stepped forward, the gap between you and Sherlock reduced to mere inches now. You could feel his breath on your skin, smell the cigarette smoke he tried to cover with breath mints to stop John from worrying. You allowed a small smile to show itself on your face. "All those acts of ecoterrorism, all that leftist legislation that gets passed out of nowhere after being decried by everyone and their mother, all that lobbying, all those bombs. All those assassinations." You lingered on the last word, letting it hang menacingly in the air. "All those things you and Mycroft blame Moriarty for, but somehow never quite manage to link him to. They are all me."
"That's impossible." Sherlock said flatly. "Mycroft would've-"
"Mycroft," you cut him off, sounding angry now, "is an idiot, as is so neatly evidenced by fact he's failed to keep track of James and I for seven years and counting. Mycroft was seventeen when I was born. Eurus was twenty and already long-gone. You were only seven. I looked at our family and saw how miserable all three of you were, how much pain your abilities had caused you, and I knew instantly that I didn't want to live that way. So I didn't. I played the stupid, normal kid and I thrived. None of you suspected the truth, not even mum and dad, and that meant I was free to do whatever I wished. I went where I pleased and I did what I pleased and I learned more about the real world than you or Mycroft ever will. I found the joy in life, the happiness that still manages to escape you, whether it was from protesting in America when I was supposed to be 'having a sleepover' or ice skating with my school friends. Oh yes, Sherlock, I had friends. But I was exercising my mind too. And then I graduated and left the house and ran into James here and, well..." You grinned up at your older brother, flashing the unassuming silver band that adorned your left ring finger. "The rest, as they say, is history."
"No," Sherlock breathed. His wide eyes flicked to James; finding no argument there, they returned to you. "You married Moriarty?"
"Of course I did, silly!" you giggled lightly. "You remember that American senator that died last year, the one who had a heart attack after that scandal broke? The one who had been a bit too buddy-buddy with Jeffrey Epstein?"
"I don't make a habit of tracking American politics," Sherlock said icily.
"Of course you don't. Well then, brother. Let me enlighten you." You ran a hand down Sherlock's chest, feeling the tautness of his muscles and the rise and fall of his chest. "You see, Sherlock, this man had been getting Mr. Epstein to connect him with a certain variety of, ah, female friends, and the American public wasn't exactly happy when they got wind of it. His fellow senators, however, didn't care- provided he pay them the right price. And I couldn't just let a dirty man like that get off scot-free, now could I?"
"So what, you killed him?" Sherlock said sarcastically. "Like a common criminal. That's hardly a feat to be proud of."
"Ah, but Sherlock," you said, wrapping one of his curls around your finger. "His cause of death was a heart attack. Or at least, the coroner thought it was." You leaned in until your face was little more than an inch from his ear. "But James and I know better."
"So you fooled a coroner, big deal. I suppose this made dear James fall madly in love with you?" Sherlock sneered. You pulled back.
"You wound me, Sherlock. You see, this senator had employed James's, ah, services and failed to hold up his end of the bargain one too many times. He needed to be dealt with." You shrugged. "Normally, neither of us like to get our hands dirty, but this particular man was an exception. And that's how James and I found each other: we had both made the exact same series of deductions and calculations for how to commit the perfect murder, and, well, it was love at first sight."
You paused to let Sherlock inject one of his usual cutting remarks. He simply watched you, stunned, so you continued. Someone had to take the opportunity to monologue, after all.
"James had heard of me by then, of course. I was terrorizing anyone who was anyone in the free world and letting him get the credit to boot. When we bumped into each other on the way to kill this senator, he put two and two together and realized that he was standing face to face with the very person who was giving his reputation such an excellent boost. I must be the one committing all those crimes that Mycroft was so quick to pin on him. Who else could be standing there, ready to kill the exact same man at the exact same time and in the exact same way as himself?"
"So what? He proposed on the spot?" Sherlock sneered.
You smirked to yourself. Sherlock was getting angry now, kicking himself for having not kept track of you and consequently letting this happen right under his nose.
"Heavens no, Sherlock. Just because I was only twenty doesn't mean I was a fool. James courted me like a proper gentleman. I intrigued him, especially once he found out that I was a Holmes. He wined and dined me to my heart's content, and when the time was right, he proposed. We got married in the Paris catacombs three months after we met. If I had known you were so invested in the health of my marriage, I would have added you to the guest list."
"You hardly seem the type to take a role as submissive as 'wife.'" Sherlock quipped drily. "The bridewealth must have been quite large."
"Quite," you agreed. "But not in pounds." A flush rose in Sherlock's cheeks as he caught the innuendo, making James chuckle softly behind you. "And I'm not his wife, Sherlock. I'm his partner, in crime and in life. How do you think he manages to play you so well?" You tapped one finger to the side of your head. "He has insider information. I know what makes you tick, Sherlock. And I know just the right strings James has to pull to make you dance."
"Is that all you brought me here for? To make threats?" Sherlock said quietly.
"Not threats, Sherlock. Just so many steps in the dance."
"Then why should I leave?" he pressed. "What's to stop me from killing you, killing both of you, and leaving Mycroft to pick up the pieces?"
"Nothing, I suppose." You shrugged. "Although, if you leave right now, you should be back to 221 B with just enough time to defuse the bomb John and Mrs. Hudson are strapped to. They should be arming it right about..."
The ding of a cell phone notification issued forth from Moriarty's pocket.
"...now. Is that what I think it is, dear?" you called.
Moriarty checked the message. "Indeed it is!" he trilled. "His little friends are locked and loaded."
"And there you have it." You cocked one eye at Sherlock. "Don't bother calling Lestrade on the way home for anything other than an ambulance; it'll defuse quite easily with your fingerprint, but explode if subjected to the incompetence of the bomb squad. I suggest you start moving. Oh, and give Mycroft my love, will you? Tell him I'll be in touch."
Sherlock made no move to leave, simply studying you, clearly taking stock of his options.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Sherlock." You sighed and twitched up your skirt with one hand, revealing a thigh holster hiding under your skirt. You withdrew a revolver from this secret housing, a snub-nosed Smith and Wesson with a bubblegum-pink grip. You raised the gun and aimed it calmly at Sherlock's chest. "I don't think either of us want your blood splattered on this floor. Now get out."
You jerked your chin towards the door. "Get. Out."
He looked at you for a moment longer, then turned on his heel and strode out of the warehouse. You watched him go, gun squarely trained on the center of your brother's back, not lowering your aim even when he was long out of sight.
A hand on your shoulder made you finally release the tension you had been carrying. Though your gaze didn't leave the spot where Sherlock had vanished from sight, your shoulders sagged and your arms dropped loosely to your sides. James's touch was magical like that, drawing out the toxins of even the most taxing day.
He gently but insistently pried the .38 from your unprotesting grip. Long, deft fingers ghosted across your skin as they returned the revolver to its home under your skirt, making you suck in a sharp breath.
"Oh, sweet thing," he crooned in your ear, chin resting on your shoulder. "You're not really regretting it, are you?"
"No," you murmured. "Just... need you, is all."
"I think I can take care of that," he breathed. He moved his chin from your shoulder to the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest. You hummed, leaning your head back to rest against him, holding on to the strong arms that held you so safe and secure.
"It's destroying him, you know."
"He did this when we were growing up, any time he got outsmarted. He's kicking himself for not seeing what he should have seen. He's positively enraged, James. He's going to spend the entire cab ride home mulling over every single detail that would've pointed to me if he hadn't been so arrogant. Mycroft will take it even harder."
"Good," James said softly.
You hummed in agreement. "They really are like puppets on a string," you commented quietly. "They'll kill themselves trying to stop me."
"Indeed they will, darling," James's tone was proud, validating. "You lit the first match today. And together, you and I will watch. Them. Burn." He growled in your ear, making shivers run down your spine, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "You're a genius, darling."
A small smile crossed your face at the inside joke. Either of you calling the other a genius was rather like the pot calling the kettle black, and yet you did it all the same. It never failed to make you smile.
Visions of lively flames, white-hot coals, and choking smoke danced in your imagination. You leaned into James, rocking in his arms, your smile widening into a Cheshire grin.
Let the dance begin.
I'm looking for a beta reader!! I suck at editing and proofreading so if anyone (who also writes fanfiction) would like to help me, let me know ☺️
Make Art. Make Love (Draco Malfoy x Reader)
Summary: Draco watches his girlfriend paint.
Warning: Smut, mature language and themes, 18+ content
Word count: 1500ish
A/n: I’ve been struggling a bit with work and life in general so I haven’t gotten around to writing this week. But here is a Draco smut I found in my drafts. I have a Harry smut and a Fred smut coming up next.
Draco leaned against his arm chair, sipping on his morning tea and flipping through the daily prophet.
Every now and then, he glanced away from his paper to look at you.
And why wouldn’t he? You were far more captivating than the local news.
Well at least to him anyway.
He could easily make out where your curves started and ended in the button down that you’d stolen from him as you dipped your paintbrush into fresh paint.
And every time you stretched just a little on our tiptoes to reach the top half of the canvas that was sitting on your easel, the shirt rode up your body giving Draco a peak of your flimsy knickers.
You backed away from your canvas and gave him a shy smile when you noticed that his silvery eyes were fixated on you. He took a long sip from his tea and went back to reading his paper like he hadn’t just been undressing you with his eyes a few seconds earlier.
And when you went back to making careful brush strokes on your painting, he looked up from his paper again.
You had your hair twisted into a messy knot at the nape of your neck, secured with a paintbrush making him want to tug at the paintbrush to unravel your hair.
He quietly took in the shape of your breasts as you bent over and leaned in while you mixed paint on your pallet.
“Halfway done.” You told him as you continued to make long deliberate strokes with your paintbrush. “I’m quite excited about this one.”
Draco only nodded as he continued to observe the way your eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He watched your hand and took notice of the efficient yet graceful movements they made.
Paintbrush between your knuckles, a bit of smudged grey paint on your cheek and the way he could make out the swell of your behind in that shirt made him want to walk on over to you and take you right then and there.
But he dare not.
He knew just how hard you’d been working on that painting.
Draco let the torture of not being able to touch you build up more and more while you continued to work on your painting—completely unaware about the growing, hardening want in his trousers.
“Ah, I think I’m done now.” You said out loud as you backed slightly away from the canvas, observing your work.
Draco couldn’t make out if it was the eagerness of seeing your finished artwork or the silhouette of your body in his shirt, but he was standing behind you in a matter of a few seconds.
“What do you think?” You asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and let his chin rest on your shoulders.
“Is that—is that me?” He finally asked when he fully took in your painting.
“No of course not, it’s some other boy with blonde hair, sipping tea and reading the paper.” You said sarcastically as you pushed him away.
Draco was in awe of the painting and the artist in front of him.
You’d captured his likeness perfectly in the painting. The colours blended in perfect harmony and you’d in shaded all the right places and highlighted all the right places.
“It’s beautiful.” Draco said softly. “You’re beautiful.”
He let his hands up and down your body, letting out a sharp and content sigh.
He wasn’t expecting it but you turned around and wrapped your hands around his neck. Stretched on the tip of your toe, you leaned in and took his lips in yours.
His lips felt soft against yours.
His lips still had the sweetness of the tea he was drinking as he drank all the gasps and sighs that were leaving your lips.
With a gentle tug, he pulled the paintbrush that was holding your hair up and your hair tumbled onto your shoulders.
“Much better.” He whispered as he watched wispy bits of hair fall on your face.
You couldn’t explain the rationality behind your next move but you dipped your fingers in the pallet next you and smeared it on his cheeks when he leaned in to kiss you again.
To your surprise, Draco broke into a small chuckle before dipping one of his hands into the paint himself.
“Draco stop—no—don’t you dare...” you giggled as he cupped your face with his paint stained hand pulling you in closer as he kissed you hard.
He slowly reached down, undoing the buttons of your shirt, all the while leaving paint stains all over your body.
And then he kissed you again while his hands found the smooth and soft skin of your rounded breasts—the pad of his thumb rubbing gently against the hardening nipples.
After the last button was undone, your shirt fell to the ground and he slowly hooked his fingers into the elastic of your knickers making them slip right off your body.
“Draco..” You gasped into the kiss when you felt his paint free hand slip into your wetness—sliding up and down at a torturously slow place.
You bucked your hips and pushed yourself deeper against his fingers making him growl into the kiss as he slowly broke away in order to guide you towards the floor.
A soft gasp left your parted lips when the cold marble floor hit your naked skin and he reveled in the sight.
Soft skin covered in paint, parted lips, flushed cheeks and wild hair pooling at the floor.
Draco closed his eyes and let everything sink in before making his next move.
He started with your right nipple—taking the bud into his mouth as he suckled gently while his free hand toyed with your pert left nipple.
His tender and loving kisses only moved lower and lower till his blonde head was in between your legs—his lips hovering around just where you needed him the most.
And when his tongue made contact with your clit, you sighed out his name and gripped his hair and raised your hips to meet his mouth even more.
Draco took immense pleasure in the thought of being the man that had you arching your back and moaning in pleasure and he couldn’t help himself from teasing you till you were close to your climax.
“Draco...it feels so good...I’m so close..”
He kept licking and sucking and kissing till he could feel your pulse rising and your legs shaking.
“That’s it.....cum on my tongue baby..”
You dug your nails into his shoulders as you let your first orgasm take over you making your entire body convulse.
Draco kept repeating his licks and kept pressing his tongue inside of you till you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped even tighter onto his shoulders.
“Another one..yes baby...let go…”
After the second orgasm hit you, you felt his tip slowly tease your entrance before slowly letting himself slip into you.
“Fuck...you always feel so good.” He hissed and you pulled your legs up allowing him to immerse himself even deeper.
Once every inch of his aching and throbbing cock was inside of you, he opened his eyes to look at you. You bit your bottom lip and nodded your head slowly.
Hearing you pead, He slowly began thrusting his hips—sliding his cock in and out of you.
He then reached for your hands and pinned them above your head as he started to pick up his face.
Every hard thrust that he made was accompanied by a groan as he watched the way your breasts bounce while your face contorted in pleasure.
You were a work of art.
You even had paint smeared across your body to prove it.
With his eyes ever leaving you, Draco continued to fuck you.
Every movement of his cock nudged your clitoris and repeatedly hit that one spot inside of you.
“How can someone….fuck...feel so fucking good…” he groaned and you felt his cock tingle—indicating that he was close.
You wrapped your legs around his torso guiding him deeper as you felt your own release to build up.
You wrapped your legs around him even tighter as you came with him—his release painting your walls that were clenching him in.
Both of your chests were rising and falling quickly as you both came down from your highs.
“Y/n?” Draco whispered, placing a small kiss at the corner of your mouth as he collapsed on top of you.
“You are art.” He said, looking at you lovingly while he slowly backed away.
“How can I be art when I’m an artist?” You chuckled, slowly standing up and reaching for a stray paintbrush to gather your hair up again.
“Why do I even bother.” He scoffed as he held up his hand asking you to help him get up from the floor.
Just as you gripped his hand to pull him up, he pulled you down towards him with a wicked smile.
“And who said we were done hm?”
Draco Taglist (sorry if I my sleep deprived ass missed anyone) 😅
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Read my other stories here.
Lots of love as always,
just started watching ginny and georgia and LET ME TELL YOU. expect marcus to show up on this blog. a lot. requests are 100% open even if i’m the worlds hugest procrastinator.
jeon jungkook x reader
angst with a happy ending, idol!au, established relationship ; wc : 1480 words
warnings: swearing, mentions of insecurities, jungkook is a bit of a dick here i'm sorry lol
note: this fic was inspired by this song! it's been collecting dust in my drafts for so long and then i realized that i haven't posted anything in months so....... hope you guys enjoy!
jeongguk has always been your constant, and even with what seems to be the whole world against the two of you, you can't bring yourself to let him go.
Sighing, you take a sip from your tea. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
Jeongguk blinks. “What?”
“I said,” you repeat slowly, “you’re a fucking idiot. I know what I got into. You don’t get to make decisions for me.”
“I’m not making decisions for you, (Y/N).” He scoffs, leaning back on his chair. “I’m telling you that this isn’t working out between us. We need to break up.”
For a few moments, you say nothing. The sounds of the cafe downstairs fill the silence between the two of you and you idly wonder if he’ll gain some sense the longer that you stare at him. You raise an eyebrow.
“You literally told me that you wanted to start a family with me yesterday,” you deadpan. “People don’t change that quickly, especially not you.”
“Then you obviously don’t know me well enough!” He fires back, leaning forward as he grips the edge of your table. His jaw clenches, and in another time, maybe you would have found it attractive. Now, however, it only fuels your irritation further.
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you consider actually slapping some sense into that stupid, big head of his. “Jeongguk, I’ve known you for ten years,” you remind him calmly. “I know you better than I know myself, which is why I know that you’re an awful liar and that every sentence you’ve uttered in the past ten minutes has been pulled straight out of your ass.”
You can practically see the gears turning in his head. It was clear that this strategy wasn’t working out, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was time for him to switch tactics.
When his gaze grows harder, colder, you already know that the next thing that comes out of his mouth will tear your heart to shreds. Still, you tilt your chin upwards, meeting his gaze head-on.
“(Y/F/N),” he says quietly, voice so dangerously low. You brace yourself for the impact. “How do I make you understand that the past three years have been nothing but a waste of my time?”
He takes your frozen state as a sign to continue. “The past three years have just been one big trainwreck. You’ve done nothing but hold me back in every aspect of my life. You have been nothing but selfish and it shows even now,” he scoffs. “You refuse to listen to me when I tell you something. It’s always your way or the highway, isn’t it?”
You’re stunned into silence. So this was the path he was going to take, huh? Somewhere, underneath the wave of hurt that washes over you is a thought: textbook. This is a textbook manifestation of your worst fears, your deepest insecurities. He knows you better than you know yourself; knowing exactly which buttons to press to hurt you the most. He’s cutting into your very soul with surgeon-like precision. The wounded, angry part of you wants to take the bait, to rip him apart but you don’t have it in you to tear into him just as he had done with you.
So you say nothing, merely tilting your head to the side. Slowly, you bring your cup to your lips, sipping quietly before setting it down once more. His eyes are still dark, filled with barely repressed rage.
“You’re always fucking clinging to me too!” He spits out. “You act like you’re so high and mighty but then you act like a fucking child whenever you don’t get what you want. Grow the fuck up,” he laughs humorlessly. “Loving you is the biggest mistake of my life. I wish I never fucking met you.”
At that statement, you can’t even hold back a wince. If you weren’t watching him so closely, you would not have noticed the way his eyes widen infinitesimally, fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach out for you. He bites his lip and for a second he looks like the Jeongguk that you know and love. That’s all it takes for you to strengthen your resolve once more, to force your tears back, and to face this head-on as if he hadn’t hit you where it hurt the most.
“Is that all you’ve got?” You say coolly as if your heart didn’t ache at his words. “Let it all out, love; I’ve got all day.”
His facade begins to crumble. “Why aren’t you mad at me?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to be mad at you?”
He visibly deflates in front of you. Shaking his head, he looks at the coffee table, fingers tracing the scratches on the surface.
“Just break up with me,” he whispers pitifully. “It’s the best thing you can do.”
You hum softly. “Do you want to break up with me because of the reasons that you listed earlier? Or…”
“Does this have something to do with the conversation you had with your manager this morning?”
His head shoots up, eyes widening comically. “How do you know that?”
“I have my ways,” you shrug. “That, and the fact that Yoongi overheard the two of you and gave me a heads up.”
“How did he even overhear us?”
You only shrug once more. Yoongi was, well, Yoongi. He was a man of many (slightly concerning) talents.
“If you’re worried about me receiving hate,” you start, pulling his hand into your grasp, “then you have nothing to worry about. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
He scoffs quietly but there’s no real malice behind it. “People are cruel when they want to be. I’ve been on the receiving end of that, (Y/N). I never want you to know what that feels like.”
“So you were just going to take the easy way out?”
He blanches. “No, I… I just wanted to protect you…”
A sad grin creeps up your face. “And look where that got us.”
Letting go of his hand, you take another sip of your tea, almost spitting it out when you look at Jeongguk and realize he has actual tears in his eyes. “Guk?” You say worriedly, hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes, eyebrows still adorably scrunched in that way it always did whenever he was close to tears.
When he opens his eyes again, you smile.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” he says hoarsely. “I don’t think you’re selfish or immature or clingy. Loving you, meeting you has been the best thing to happen to my life and, and I—” He swallows thickly, a single tear rolling down his cheek. You’re quick to wipe it off even as you feel your own eyes well up with tears.
“I love you,” he admits. “I look at you and my heart feels so full and you make me so happy and I just, I love you so much—” he sobs, dragging his seat closer to you so he could hold you close. You stiffen when he buries his face in the crook of your neck, only relaxing when you’re sure that no one else is on this floor of the cafe. Your arms wrap around his hunched form, letting him cry freely.
“I’m so sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean any of it I swear,” he blubbers, nose all red and runny. It’s almost adorable how he looks at you so earnestly with tears in his eyes. “You’re my everything, (Y/N), I mean it.”
He pulls away from you with a sudden urgency, hands cupping your face gently as he looks into your eyes deeply. “You don’t hold me back. You make me a better person every single day. I’m an idiot who should have talked to you about this first before forcing you to break up with me.”
“You are an idiot,” you agree. He snorts at how quickly you agree, but all you can think of at the moment is how easily he puts your heart at ease despite being the very person to have ripped it apart moments earlier.
“Don’t get me wrong, we’re going to talk about this in detail but this isn’t a discussion we should be having in a public place.” You rise from your seat, patting his cheek gently. “Let’s go home?”
He nods happily, giving you that smile—that soft smile of his that makes you forget about everything else, the one that tells you he loves you more than anything in the world. “Let’s go home.”
The two of you still had so many things to talk about, so many things to unpack from today’s events. It almost seems daunting now that you think about it as the two of you walk home with your hand in his, but as long as you had him… then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.
TOJI FUSHIGURO X READER
part 11 | series masterlist | next
taglist: @yutaeminnie @dingdongitsbees @203steph @alltimeluw @leetucethesauce @kamisamauc @mistalli @sinatraass @your-consulting-fangirl @johnnysactualgf @katzurras @levicorpses @shigaraki-is-my-master @keigobby @90s-belladonna @emerald-time
Bokuto is smart.
He is very smart, even.
He is NOT DUMB.
So why do I see so many fics and headcanons stating he "doesn't know well" or "can't take a hint"? Or even a headcanon post saying he can't do basic math? Y'all serious?
There is a border between jokes and being serious, of course, I get that, but the way he's been characterized lately is basically a guy who is, and this is being taken quite literally, "dummy thicc".
If he was able to teach Hinata how to feint, if he was even able to determine which stadium had more people in it, heck- if he's an ace, he's got a quick eye and wit!
Who moved on to become a professional player!! Which requires a degree in general sports health and fitness may I add.
So... Please. He's not dumb. Please don't portray him that way, at least to the point its not a "joke" anymore.
I'm just gonna say it again for good measure: Bokuto's a smart cookie.
(If anyone has any other evidence in the show/manga for this feel free to add on, I can't recall everything about him off the top of my head because I'm not really his biggest fan but all this mischaracterization was getting annoying.)
Thank you for the request! Hope you like it.
Soulmates exist and there are many ways to find them, through thought sharing, not seeing colors, with many more and as for Oneus it’s seeing their soulmate in their dreams. For a few years now this one person kept appearing in their dreams, they have been through a lot together - going on roadtrips, having picnics, stargazing and much more but they don’t know each other’s names. And when waking up they remember everything but for some the face of the person is a little blurry. They are now yearning to meet their soulmates.
They had just arrived at the venue, where they were going to have a concert, they all got out of the car and walked to the doors. Just inside a girl was waiting for the group to arrive for she was in charge of showing them to their waiting room. Ravn was walking behind the others a bit tired because it was early in the morning and when he was sleeping he once again saw his soulmate but the second he woke up it’s like her face was a blur. Ravn wants nothing more than to meet his soulmate, he’s been waiting for so long. As soon as 8y9 saw all 6 members had walked in she introduced herself and told them to follow her. She opened the door to the waiting room holding it open for all of them. But as Ravn went through the door he lightly touched the girl's arm on accident and he felt a little spark. Ravn and 8y9 looked up and ended up just looking into each other’s eyes. As a feeling of being complete filled Ravn. He got a rush of seeing all the memories from his dreams but this time his soulmate’s face was clear, the girl in front of him was there with him. As he came out of the daze he immediately slung his arms around the girl in a hug and whispered in her ear: “Finally. I found you”.
It was exhausting for Seoho to see his soulmate in his dreams every night. Joking around with her, going on a road trip, singing for her, dreaming about going to sleep together but always waking up alone with no trace of his soulmate. After doing so many things in his dreams he just wishes to be able to do it for real, to hold her hand, cook crazy food with her and much more. So when he was out grocery shopping and saw a girl that seemed familiar he brushed it off as just his head messing with him. This kept happening, when he was out walking, when they were driving by in the van, when shopping and when eating Seoho kept seeing this one girl that always looked familiar but he didn’t know why. He always only saw her from behind or from the side, he never got a clear view of her face. The next time he ran into the girl was in a park when he was out walking with Keonhee after a long day of practice. But this time was different because this time, he saw her face. And it was the girl from his dreams. His soulmate. There was no mistaking it, her face was exactly the same. He told Keonhee that he would be back soon and then he ran up to the girl who was talking on the phone as she was walking. When Seoho stood right in front of her she looked up and was just as surprised as he was, her soulmate was standing right in front of her. She hung up the phone call with a quick: ‘I’ll call you back’ to look back at the man in front of her. Seoho just smiled and stretched his hand out and said: “Hi, I’m Seoho. Your soulmate, and you are?”
Leedo is a very passionate person and his biggest dream in life is to find his soulmate, get married, have children and live happily together. So for him it hurts to feel his soulmate so close but know that she is so far away. Every night when his soulmate joins him in his dreams he holds her close and when he wakes up he misses holding her in his arms. He sometimes tries to visualize the moment he will meet his soulmate for real, he wants to be calm and collected. But the moment he actually finds his soulmate he’s a stuttering mess that trips over his feet knocking his soulmate over and heart hammering so hard in his chest he can barely hear when the girl laughs and introduces herself. “H-hi, um, I uh I’m a Leehak no uh Leedo well Gunhak” “Hehe, hi. I’m (y/n)”
Keonhee was terrified of meeting his soulmate both in reality and in his dreams because he was afraid she wouldn’t like him. Afraid she would be disappointed with him for being an idol and not having ‘a real job’. But whenever he saw her in his dreams she was very nice and he couldn’t help but fall in love with her. He talked with the other members about his fear of meeting his soulmate. They always said that they are soulmates for a reason and no matter what they would love each other. He even told his soulmate in their dreamland that he was afraid of disappointing her and she would give him a hug and tell him that he could never disappoint her. The moment he saw her and realized who she was he ran the other way until he found Ravn and Leedo telling them that she was here. They told him to go talk with her but he said he can’t. Ravn had to find her and ask her to come with him so he could introduce her to her soulmate. When Keonhee saw her coming towards him with Ravn he tried running again but Leedo held him in place. “Don’t run,” Leedo told him. “Hello” was all he said shyly while glancing at the girl but not looking her in the eyes. He was happy, but very shy.
Hwanwoong would always dance with his soulmate no matter where they were in their dreamland. By the ocean, in a car, at a restaurant or on a field stargazing. He wanted to impress her with his skill and for each night she joined him in dancing he wanted more and more to dance for real with her. It didn’t matter if she was actually good at dancing or not, he would dance with her. He would be so excited about meeting his soulmate, whenever he saw someone the tiniest bit similar to his soulmate he would try to get closer to see if it was his soulmate. He would end up disappointed each time but he kept at it determined to find his soulmate as soon as possible. For the fifth time in an hour Hwanwoong ran away from the outside photoshoot after seeing a girl who was so similar to his soulmate. He ran until he caught up with her and ran in front of her to stop her from walking further. The girl stopped and looked at him confused but then realized who he was. Hwanwoong couldn’t help but smile and jump up and down with excitement. “Yes!!! YES YES YES!!!.... HI!” He screamed so loudly that people around them looked weirdly at him.
Xion is the maknae of the group, he felt like he wasn’t in a hurry to find his soulmate. Of course he wants to find her but he knew it would happen eventually. So he wouldn’t be like Hwanwoong, running around giving it his all to find her. But he wouldn’t not do anything, when out and about he would look around. He loved meeting his soulmate in their dreamland. He doesn’t talk much about his soulmate with the other members cause he feels like it’s private and something he should keep to just him and his soulmate. Also, Xion is afraid the others will tease him about the things he does with his soulmate. When he meets her he’s a bit surprised, nervous and happy. He was just saying whatever came to his head at the moment. “I’m Xion, you’re…. my soul-soulmate”
A girlfriend?! | Lily Evans x fem!reader
summary: you tell you parents about you and your girlfriend, but they don’t take it as well as you hoped
warnings: homophobic parents, mentions of being disowned, angst?, fluff
Dear Mum, dear Dad,
I write you this letter to let you know that I won‘t be home for the holidays. I know you were excited about it, but there is something I should probably tell you.
I wanted to say this when I‘d see you the next time, but this is easier anyway. I have a girlfriend and will stay at hers over the holiday. Her parents already said that it‘d be fine with them.
Please write me as soon as you get this letter.
This is what you sent to your parents two weeks ago and they still haven’t replied. Sure, your owl wasn’t the youngest, but it never took that long. It worried you just more.
Your Mum was a muggle, a very religious person. You and your Dad didn’t believe in all that, but never said anything to her, because it was her choice.
You sat down next to Lily at the breakfast table and waited for the mail to come.
„It‘ll be fine“, Lily said with a sympathetic smile. „You’ll be staying at mine, no matter what. Mum and Dad are so excited to finally meet you. Just Petunia, as always, doesn’t like the idea of me having a girlfriend.“
„Thanks, Lily“, you answered. You were happy that Lily‘s parents liked you, even though they haven’t met you yet.
And then the owls came. A little package landed in front of James, a letter was thrown on Lily‘s plate. And your owl dropped a letter in your lap. Lily turned to you, waiting for you to open it.
have you gone mental? A girlfriend?! You must have lost your mind. This is not what god wanted. You either will break up with her or you’ll never come back. You decide.
Tears welled in your eyes as you read that. She hated you, your own mother practically disowned you.
You were pulled in someone’s chest and as you took in the scent, you knew it was your girlfriend. „Shh, its going to be okay. You’ll be fine, we‘ll be fine. I promise.“
„She hates me. She’s my Mum, shouldn’t she be proud or happy or something?“, you asked with tears in your eyes.
„She doesn’t hate you“, Lily said. You let her go and gave her the letter. Her eyes flew over the parchment and when she was done, she looked at you pitying. „I - Merlin, I don’t know what I am supposed to do.“
You shook your head. „Me neither. But-“ You looked at her for a moment and then realised something. „I can’t lose you … I love you.“
Lily‘s eyes lit up for a moment. „I love you too. And I‘m sure that you are more than welcome at mine. Let me just write to Mum and Dad later, okay?“
You nodded. „Thank you so much.“
„Anything for you“, she replied smiling.
Lily‘s parents already wrote back on the next day. And like she promised, they were okay with you staying at their house. It would be just this year anyway as you‘d graduate at the end of the term.
„Ready to go home?“, Lily asked. You looked up from the suitcase you just finished packing.
„Yes“, you answered.
„There they are“, Mr Evans shouted and pointed at her daughter and you as you went through the doors of the train. Lily smiled, took her suitcase in one hand and your hand in the other and went quickly to them.
Mrs Evans hugged her, followed by her husband, then turned to you. „And you must be y/n. We heard such great things from you.“ She smiled and hugged you as well, which made you blush a bit.
„Thank you. It’s nice to meet you“, you said, then turned to Mr Evans and shook his hand. „And thank you for taking me in.“
„No problem, dear. We are so sorry for your parents. I think you are lovely couple“, Mrs Evans said and winked at her daughter.
„Mum“, Lily warned. „We should get going.“ Her parents smiled at you and walked in front of you two. „See, I told you they‘d love you. Just not as much as I love you“, she said and gave you a kiss.
Hello everyone, it's my first time writing a fiction, and it came as my desperate love declaration to Ms. Venable. It doesn't have a name, because I don't know how to name this, and because all of your fics have such amazing titles so I thought it may be better to just leave it this way ;) This is the first chapter and I don't know how many chapters it's gonna have, but I will try to finish what I started. Thank you so much for reading :"< And I of course will take recommendation on the name ;) Also, English is not my first language.
Being a patrol officer has been your dream since you were a child. It is good, you told yourself, to always know who you want to become, and it is even better, when that dream finally came out of your head and started to be a real thing.
Your assigned area is small and peaceful. In this particular town where people are so nice to each other that their children can just go have dinner at some neighbor’s place without a heads up, or even a minor accident will make itself known in the local news headlines the day after, the job is very much easier than what you had thought. As mundane as it sounds, it doesn’t make you stop taking your position seriously. You spent a long time getting used to your duties, to know people, and it took you even longer to become a friend of them, until you are, a part of this community. Sometimes it's quite boring, or busy, but nothing you can't manage.
A good dose of sun and recent rain has left the park lush and green, the smell of grass and blossom strong as you drive along the road around the town that you have walked a thousand times before.
"Hello, Audrey!" You slow down and nod towards the woman who's still in her pyjamas. She runs a pretty coffee shop.
"Oh, hi, Y/N! Start so early today?" She smiles.
"Yeah, don't know what else to do, so..."
You trail off. Just when you're preparing to wave her good bye and move on with your morning duty, she says
"I heard that someone will move into our town today."
"Yes, I just learned about that last night. She will live in the house down the road, the white one with two stories."
"She?" You blurt out way too fast.
"Uh huh, a woman." Audrey grins at you, the glint in her eyes is speaking louder than any words.
"Ooh spare me that look! I don't fall in love that easily."
"Whatever you say, officer!" This time she actually laughs out loud, her face's bright under the morning sun.
"I'm going, I have duties to meet, you know." You say weakly before resuming your way. You can still hear Audrey's giggles.
In your car, you can't help but picturing this woman. And suddenly you feel all excited. Well, that is normal, you think, for there hasn't been a new resident in this area since you're assigned here. You keep wondering if she's young, if her hair is blond, or brunette. Are her eyes blue, or brown, or hazel? Is she gonna like you, like everybody else in this town does? That's when you decide, you must leave a good first impression.
When you reached that house near the end of the road, you pull over and step out of your car to have a glance. It looks new, not too big, red roofs and white walls, with a neatly mown lawn at the front that's still covered in raindrops from last night. And if what Audrey said is true, then the woman will be here in minutes. She has to, because moving to a new place would take so much time, as well as energy, and we have to start early so we can finish it at the end of the day. Maybe, you think, you should stay and offer your aid. You haven't had much to do these days anyway, and responding to calls for help is definitely in your job description.
Right when you're still swimming in your own thoughts, a truck's gradually coming towards you from the corner of the road, and behind it is a black car, her car! Your heart somehow starts beating so fast you worry it might explode. You scold yourself and try to calm down, act cool, you're a police officer for heaven's sake! They stop in front of the yard and your eyes never leave her car. Its door swings open then there she is, dressed in complete purple and ginger hair tied in a perfect, high pony tail. She carries a cane, its silver head presses against her stomach as she looking up the house. You did not catch her face, it must be because the sun shines too brightly or your head's too dizzy to see straight. Two big guys hop down from the truck and start to unload the furniture while she's walking to the door to open it. As if your soul has left its body, your feet take you to their direction without your knowledge. All three of them turn to look at you, eyes squinting suspiciously. At that moment, you saw her face for the first time, pale in the daylight with high cheekbones, brows raise above the rim of her glasses. Deep brown eyes land on you, burn into you, your eyes meet and you can't help yourself. Something flutters in your stomach, and your heart sings louder than a choir.
At that moment, so damn easily, you fall in love.