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mcondance · 10 months

Text

come close; hobie brown

getting high and talking about anarchy with some old 90's shit playing is a crazy way to fall for someone. but it happens.

pairing hobie brown x Black!afab!fem! reader

contents lots of weed, different terms for weed (mary jane, cess), talks of killing politicians (y’all r both anarchists so.), masturbation (both you and hobie), making out, fingering, riding, missionary, mating press, creampie, unprotected sex (they're horny man dwbi), dirty talk, cervix kissing, lotsssss of praise, porn with plot (sorry i love plot 🙏🏾)

words 4.7k.. back on my longer fic shit!

warnings reader wears lipgloss, barely proofread so if you see any mistakes pls shoot me an ask!, umm i use the n word once!, i’m also,, not that great at writing his voice yet so.. hope it’s at least sorta accurate :3

extras the form i wrote this in is kinda,, unique igs but it flows rlly well i feel.

song shoutouts special thanks to lipstick lover by janelle monae, come close by common and mary j. blige, and green eyes by erykah badu!

signing off happy father’s day to hobie 🫶🏾

—

not quite plug!hobie, but hobie who always has weed, who you smoke with the first time you buy from him.

you usually don’t smoke with randoms, but you hear some old 90's rap playing from inside his car, and he invites you in when you comment on it.

"what you know bout this?" you ask with a smile.

"a lot, actually. you wanna smoke and listen?"

not quite plug!hobie who's fine as fuck as he sits opposite you in his ride, tall and darkskin with cool ass hair. wild ass accent and even wilder style, but he makes it work. his music taste adds on to his overall allure.

but his political views? god. the charm in the shape of a little 'a' surrounded by a circle hanging from his mirror lets you know that he ain't like these other niggas.

he's an anarchist. so far, you're the only anarchist you know. it's so rare to find someone who has the same values as you.

not quite plug!hobie who's car you leave with music recs clumsily typed into your notes, and someone to talk about politics with, though you're too shy to text the pretty boy with the good weed, so you're sure it'll never happen.

not quite plug!hobie who texts you when you get home to make sure you arrived safely.

"driving while high ain't safe, ya know? you at home?"

"i've done it before. i made it home."

not quite plug!hobie who's so nice to you, complimenting your outfits and hair, even noticing when you meet him the 3rd time with a new style.

not quite plug! hobie who you find out has been giving you discounts when your friends ask if you ever bought from him after their recommendation, and you run them in on the details. you think it’s just cause y’all smoked the first time you ever bought from him and you bonded over political views and music. you don’t think nothing else of it.

not quite plug!hobie who you find yourself thinking about more and more often, ever since that first time y'all smoked together.

not quite plug!hobie who finds himself in the same predicament.

not quite plug!hobie who answers the door on your 6th buy in a pair of red sweats and a tight white t-shirt that hugs his lanky frame, hair tied up with a blue shoe string. he invites you into his crib, citing reasons of having no one else to talk to about his views with. after all, it's the first time you both have time to sit and talk and listen to music instead of a quick deal since that first time.

not quite plug!hobie who you get faded as fuck with, this time sharing a joint on his janky couch, heavy hands brushing against each other with each pass. he tries to ignore the aching in his very core every time you speak your mind, your aligning politics driving him crazy.

you mirror him, shaking off the.. arousal?.. no, it can't be. you can't be getting all heated just cause a man is an anarchist. whatever. just ignore it.

not quite plug!hobie who laughs when you tell him straight up, “people aren’t killing politicians anymore. that’s our fuckin’ problem.”

"really? you're wild. but i get it."

"course you do." you nod, taking another drag of the joint. erykah badu's "green eyes" is playing quietly in the background of your convo. hobie starts laughing.

"what?" you smile.

"song's called green eyes, right? well we got red eyes." it's corny and wouldn't be funny if you two weren't high as shit, but you are high as shit, so it's fucking hilarious.

not quite plug!hobie who's eyes linger on you as he pulls laugh after laugh out of your chest with his snarky little jokes.

not quite plug!hobie who walks you to your car after your smoke session, telling you to get home safely. he passes out after his head hits the bed, that after smoke sleep being some of the best he's ever had. he tries to chase you out of his mind as he succumbs to the cess.

not quite plug!hobie who lights a joint and then pulls his dick out the next day, hard and heavy, and strokes it thinking about his pretty little client— friend? whatever — hips stuttering as he wraps his hand around his thick base. he's tried to shake you off, went all day distracting himself with this and that, but it's not working.

not quite plug!hobie who cums in white spurts splattering on his chest to the thought of making you cum in a room filled with smoke, some old r&b playin as he dicks you down the way he's been wanting to since the first time your pretty ass came to him asking for some weed. he wants you bent over on the end of his bed, eyes low and red while he fills you up and fucks you good, gives you his dick like he feels you so rightfully deserve.

not quite plug!hobie who you seriously can't stop thinking of. last night's smoke session has you on edge, so you light another joint, but weed always gets you horny, so when you slip your fingers into your panties and touch yourself to the thought of the pretty darkskin boy with the piercings and cool hair pushing his fat cock into your pretty hole, you blame it on the mary jane sitting pretty in your veins.

the fault lies in the mary jane for making you think about him laid on top of you, talking you through it as he damn near kisses your cervix, his wiry hands roaming your body. the fault lies in the mary jane for having your legs shaking, imagining your pretty plug folding you in half and ruining you, leaving you and your cunt sore and satisfied and dripping his cum.

not quite plug!hobie who cleans up while telling himself that he can't do this again, that you're not interested in him.

not quite plug!hobie who you block out of your mind as you shower. what you did wasn't right. it won't happen again.

not quite plug!hobie who you don’t buy from for a minute, cause you’re trying to stop smoking so much, for a while. you still keep in contact with him, though. daily texts, funny memes, and of course talks of anarchy. one day, you call him “bee” instead of hobie, and it sticks. he likes it.

not quite plug!hobie… who you fuck yourself to again, this time slipping three fingers inside your greedy cunt to satiate the need for him. it’s almost every night, and it’s a different fantasy every time.

in the backseat of his car, bent over on his counter, pressed into his couch cushions. your head pressing into your pillows while visions of hobie’s lips pressed to your ear praising you endlessly for being his good girl and taking him so well torment you. you’re insatiable, but when you text you have to pretend like you don’t want his piercing scraping against your clit as he eats you like a man starved.

not quite plug!hobie who has the same dilemma as you.. he can’t even go a couple of hours without growing hard in his sweats, glimpses of you spread out on his bed with your thighs thrown over his shoulders, or you face down ass up, sobbing in pure ecstasy. it’s not made better by y’all’s constant texting, more and more of your personality being revealed to him each day.

you both share one brain, really. and that one brain finds each other attractive, of course, but it’s not just that. it’s not just pure lust. you two have more in common than anyone you’ve ever met, and that sinks ache and want so deep into you that every night and day is spent trying to rid yourselves of it.

not quite plug!hobie who you buy from again almost two weeks later, two weeks that were filled with funny conversations and deep discussions of politics through text. two weeks that solidify the growing feelings you have for each other. this time, he’s wearing a pair of blue sweats and a tight black tee, and his hair is tied up just like the first time you came to his house. this time, brandy’s playing throughout his crib.

you’ve only known each other for about two months, but it feels like longer, for the both of you. you take your seat on the couch as he grabs his stash and his papers, pulling out one paper to roll up.

not quite plug!hobie who sits a little bit closer than he did last time. he smells good. your head is swimming already.

not quite plug!hobie who lights up and then lets you take the first hit, watching you wrap your glossy lips around the joint like he doesn’t wish they were wrapped around his dick instead. you pass the joint to him and settle onto the couch, raking your eyes over his lanky frame, and what you swear is a hard-on. no way. it has to be the weed.

he settles back onto the couch too, extending his long arms on the back. his arm comes up behind your head, and you rest your head on it, smiling dopily when he directs his hazy gaze your way. his playlist must have ended. you're left with him and your thoughts.

“you’re funny, you know?” he says through a breath of smoke, passing the joint to you.

“yeah?” you reply, hitting it again. “everyone tells me i’m just corny.”

“you’re not corny. you’re pretty hilarious, if i’m bein’ honest.”

and there it is again.

not quite plug!hobie whose words light that fire in you again, the fire that you’ve been dousing every night for the past two fucking weeks. fuck, not here. not now. you grab the joint from him in an attempt to push more weed into your system to flush him out, but you meet his pretty fuckin’ brown eyes and they’re low and his lips looks so good and he smells so good and suddenly you’re asking not quite plug who you’re two seconds away from fucking!hobie why he’s been charging you less than everyone else who buys from him and why he invited you into his car and into his house, twice.

and not quite plug who really wants to kiss you right now!hobie can’t even joke and twist his way out of this one. he’s tired of cumming alone to the thought of you. the worst you can do is leave. but the best? god, so many things.

“'s cause i think you’re pretty. n' i really wanna kiss you right now.”

“then do it.”

not quite plug!hobie who tastes like weed and chocolate. the hand that was resting on the back of the couch finds it’s way to the small of your back, fingers drawing nonsensical shapes into it. your hands find his knee and his neck as you press your lips into his. you slide closer to him, and then he’s using the hand resting on your back to push you into his lap, hands settling on your hips as you settle above him, your hands circling around his neck.

“how long?” you ask between kisses.

“since the day you walked up to my car.” he responds quietly, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. he’s quick to trap your lips again.

god, he is hard. and he’s big, you can feel him pressing against the inside of your thigh. you hold your tongue, figuring you could deal with that later. right now, you just need to get out what you’ve been keeping in since the day you two met and you spotted the little ‘a’ hanging from his mirror.

the kiss grows deeper and he grows a little less shy, starting to use his hands gripping your waist to grind you against him. heat floods you when you realize that he's pulling you onto his cock, pressing your cunt against him, separated by the fabric of his sweats and your shorts.

you find his rhythm, falling into the pattern of his soft pushes and presses, a gentle lull of bodies moving against each other that makes you even more comfortable than you already are. soft little groans escaping the both of you, mixing with the smoke and infatuation in the air.

he lets you move the way you want, lithe fingers tracing up your back, hovering over where your hair falls onto your neck. he keeps kissing you for a minute, seemingly frozen. but then he's pulling away to speak, "can i- can i touch your hair?"

you stop moving with a smile. you nod. "yeah. thanks for asking." you kiss him again.

"course, love." he nods, and then he kisses you again. his long fingers snake into your hair, gently and softly. he strokes his hands through your locks, in time with your kisses and the movements of your hips that have started again. hands migrating from his neck, sliding down his chest, laying flat-palmed. your fingers slide under his tee, curling and gripping to pull him ever closer to you.

not quite plug!hobie who could kiss you forever. you could too, but you want more. you need him. so you pull away just a little, murmur "can feel you against me." chills rack through him at your words.

"i know. 'm so hard, darlin'." he pushes his hips up just a little, drawing a muffled whine from you.

"been wantin' you so bad.." you trail off. hobie takes it upon himself to move his hands from your hair to the waistband of your shorts, eyes fixed on yours, watching your every move. you nod, giving him permission to snake his fingers into your shorts, fingers that are met with no resistance.

"no panties? did'ya plan this, doll?" he smiles, slim fingers exploring your wetness, doing what he can with the limited space.

"mhm." you shake your head. "'s more comfortable." he hums in agreement. he circles your clit with his middle finger, dipping towards your entrance to collect more slick. you push down against his fingers, causing him to have to crane his wrist to reach you.

"can we take these off? can't touch you the way i wanna." you blush, averting your eyes to focus on the hand that disappears into your shorts.

"yeah." you breathe shakily, standing up and letting hobie pull them down your legs, hands on his shoulders as balance. your shirt is long, and it falls down to give you some modesty. hobie throws your shorts somewhere behind you before he leans back, giving you space to sit back down.

he looks so fucking good, brown eyes staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky. he reaches out for you, pulling you back into his lap by your hips. his hand disappears under your shirt while his lips find yours again, exploring you more freely this time.

"so wet, doll." he murmurs between one kiss and another, smiling when you whine. his fingers move at different speeds, pressing in different areas and circling at different speeds until he finds a combination that makes you jolt against him, whining "bee."

"thaaaaat's it, love." this time, you don't return your lips to his, instead tucking your head into his neck as you hump shamelessly against his hand, his cock pressing hard and heavy against your thigh. "keep going, baby," he urges, "show me how it feels."

and you do. you shiver and shake and whine and groan in pleasure, pressing kisses in his brown skin as he touches you the way he touched himself thinking about.

not quite plug!hobie who presses his thumb into your clit, sliding his hand farther down to tease your drooling hole. "'s wet, love. g'na feel so good 'round me." you moan loudly at that, at the thought of your fantasies coming true. you cant your hips down, sliding down his fingers until they're seated inside you, stroking gently at your sensitive walls.

pulling them out softly, he curls his fingers, twisting his wrist as you whine and mouth at his neck. "'s okay. you can bite." he nods, catching onto what you were holding yourself back from. you still don't, resign to licking and sucking instead.

until his fingers catch the spongy spot inside you, and your teeth are sinking into the column. "fuck," you damn near shout, pushing yourself onto his hand. he groans in response, pleased to be pleasing you and indulging in the pain you inflict on him. thumb on your clit and fingers playing with that spot, he brings his other hand from your hip to your hair to soothe you, to ground you.

it's sweet, really, his hand in your hair while the other one touches you the way you've been dreaming of. coos and hums meet your ears, soft sounds of affirmation egging you on to let yourself get lost in the pleasure he delivers you. arousal steadily dripping out of your hole, hobie's fingers sliding easier and easier inside you until he can pull out and slip right back in.

"you're so pretty, dove, fuckin' dreamgirl." he murmurs, staring down at your pretty face, arched eyebrows turned down in ecstasy, lips parted. the praise takes you closer and closer to the edge, his deep voice reverberating throughout your entire being, the pangs of arousal in your clit growing harder and faster. you're close.

you're so goddamn close to cumming for a boy you just wanted to buy from. his long fingers reach deep, deeper than you could ever even dream of. “hobie- i- i’m g’na-” you stutter against his neck, hips stuttering against his fingers.

“‘s okay, love, cum. i’m right here.” the rubber band snaps, and you're tightening your thighs around his hand while you shake and shiver, eyes closed tight with soft whines of "hobie, god it feels so good" tumbling from your lips. you tighten around his fingers, too, squeeze him so tight he winces, cause he just knows you're gonna feel so good wrapped around him. he pushes that thought away, though, focused on helping you ride out your orgasm.

fingers pressing into your clit and that spot inside you, he makes sure to milk every last second of your climax, eyes fixed on your ethereal features. aftershocks still racking through you, you finally open your eyes, and he takes it as a sign to gently pull his fingers out of you and wipe them on his sweats, and you shudder at the feeling.

"that was. . so much better than i imagined. n' i imagined it being pretty good." you smile and giggle, placing a kiss on his neck. he laughs in response, raising his eyebrows at your confession.

"bet i'm a better fuck than you imagined, too." the air in the room shifts again, and suddenly you're aware of his cock pressed against your thigh through his sweats again.

"bet you are."

you raise up, kissing him again as your hands find the waistband of his sweats and invite themselves in, meeting his dick that's been hard since you first sat down on his couch. "and i'm the one who planned this? you're free-balling." you murmur against his lips, and he mirrors your words from earlier.

"'s more comfortable, 's all— fuck." he's cut off when you pull his cock out of his sweats and run your finger over his pretty brown tip, dipping into his slit. his hips thrust up, chasing your soft hand. "g'na drive me crazy." he almost whines, jerking against you when you swipe your thumb against his aching tip again.

"just returnin' the favor." you shoot back, raising up to hover over him, swiping his leaking dick through your wetness. he wraps his hand around his thick base, moving in time with your teasing strokes. "you're big." you groan, hesitating to seat yourself on him.

"i know, doll, you can take it though. we'll make you take it." he speaks into your clothed chest, muffled and horny, and you’re sure he means what he says. you drip even more at his words, sticky slick wetting his fat tip.

not quite plug!hobie whose hands are on your hips as you sink down onto his pretty dick, whining into his neck as he encourages you. “you got it, baby, you’re takin’ me so well. god, she’s so wet.”

"she— fuck that's so hot," you moan, eyes rolling back at his words.

"mhm?" he hums.

you don't respond, too busy focusing on his fat cock pushing into you, focusing on the way you both make it fit, exactly like he said you would. finally, he bottoms out, your thighs resting against his sweats.

"g' job, babe. knew you could take me." you jolt against him, his heady words sending another pang of arousal straight to where you two meet.

not quite!plug hobie who you tell to move, raising your hips up as he pulls out, meeting him in the middle as he fills you back up. his hips slot against yours again, and his big chocolate eyes are fixed on yours, gazing upon you in adoration, while your eyes are fixed on where he disappears into you.

"so big, feels s'good. ." you whisper, meeting his gaze. the look in his eyes has chills running down your spine as you raise your hips again, choosing to connect your lips with his again. hobie starts to find a rhythm, now, wrapping his long arms around your waist. you swap spit with him as his hips meet your ass, taking over.

body bouncing with each of his thrusts into your pussy, arms wrapped around his neck. his lips slipping against yours, plump and wet. you both take it slow, basking in the feeling of finally being like this with someone you've wanted since you first saw them.

he fills you up so nicely, thick cock nestled in your achy walls, leaking tip just barely kissing your cervix as he thrusts just a bit harder and you push down a little more.

"y'feel me, darlin? 'm all the way in, at the end of you, god, 'm g'na make you mine." he babbles in pleasure, pushing his hips up even harder. still soft, but firm, and deliberate.

you nod against his lips, hand resting on his cheek. "feel you, bee, feel you in my fuckin' stomach, i swear." you feed off of him and he feeds off of you, kissing and slapping your hips against the others, wild and wanting. "fuckin' me so good, bee, makin' me yours."

"makin' me yours, doll, pussy's squeezin' me like she don't w'na let go."

"don't wanna let go, wan' you so bad." you confess, bringing your ass down onto his cock again. "i— fuck," you sob. his cock curves just right, and with his tip pressing against your spot now, hobie's found new determination.

"that it?" he asks, making sure to keep hitting that spongy patch of skin with every thrust, sheathing his cock in your wet heat.

"'s it, hobie, feels so good, shit." the high has worn off by now, leaving pure emotions and desire driving you two. you get tight around him again, cunt pulsing with every slam of his hips against yours. you feel so good around him, so tight and wet.

"'m g'na—, you're gonna make me cum, bee."

he moves one hand from around your waist at that, sliding between you two to toy with your clit, thumb rubbing wild shapes against the throbbing bud.

"fuck," you cry, grinding against his thumb and down onto his dick.

"you close again, doll? wan' you to wet me up, ma'me a mess," he encourages, big brown eyes fixed on yours like they've been the whole night.

"'m so close, bee, wanna cum for you, wanna wet you up."

"then do it." he mirrors your words from earlier, and the pleasure pulsing through your veins and infatuation swirling around in your blood gets to be too much, and you cum on his cock, still slamming your hips down onto him, meeting his thrusts in the middle. "thaaaat's it, doll." you hear hobie praise through the fog in your mind, bounces turned to messy grinds as you get all tight around him, cumming hard.

"y'alright, love?" he asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"mhm. w'na go again, you haven't come yet." he chuckles at your words, wrapping both hands around your waist and kissing you again.

"lay back, love." he murmurs against your lips, flipping you onto the couch. your back meets the smooth fabric as he lays you down, pulling his tee and his sweats off. you follow suit, stripping your shirt off and throwing it somewhere behind his couch. his watchful eyes fall on your face, then your tits, then your cunt, taking your body in for the first time.

he finds his place on top of you, balancing himself on his elbows as he kisses you again. he reaches down, but you stop him. "lemme do it," you urge, replacing his hand. you line him up with your sopping entrance, nodding twice to tell him to push in.

the stretch is so fucking good, his cock bullying it's way into your tight cunt again.

"fuck, that's it," he curses, watching your face as he seats himself in your once again.

"so deep. ." you trail off, looking down at your stomach, and oh fuck, no way.

"hobie, hobes, look," you urge, and he points his gaze to where you're looking.

"oh, love, look at that. can see myself, right there," he presses down on the bulge he creates, ripping a broken moan straight from your throat.

"fuck me, please," you sob, squirming under him. he nods, understanding, and finds his rhythm easier this time, lean hips slapping against you. your body jolts up the couch with every thrust, choppy whines of nonsensical sentences leaving your mouth.

not quite plug who's absolutely pussydrunk!hobie can't get enough of your cunt, the way you squeeze him oh so tight, the wet squelches of your heat drawing him further into madness. he needs to go deeper, needs to fuck you harder, so he raises up, throwing your legs over his shoulders, leaning back down to bury his cock deep inside you.

"baby, fuck." it's a gritted groan, head rolling back onto the couch as he mouths at your neck, licking and biting at your heated skin. his thrusts are slow and firm, dick kissing your cervix, the slaps sounding out through his living room.

you're both quiet this time around, too blissed out to do anything but fuck, allowing yourselves to succumb to pleasure. every inch of his cock fills you, driving you crazy, driving him crazy too. it's intimate, his lips on your neck, your fingers palming at his back, limbs tangled together. and you can feel it building up in you again.

"'m g'na cum, hobes." he moves one of his arms, bringing his thumb down to rub at your clit, still mouthing at your neck. he lets it happen this time, doesn't urge you or change anything he's doing, and you coast into your climax so gratifyingly that you almost cry, squeezing him tight once again. now, your focus is on making him cum.

"wan' you to cum, hobes."

"gotta pull out, love. we ain' even put a rubber on." he realizes.

"no you don't. 'm clean. jus' fill me up, please." in your right mind, you wouldn't let him, but you're not in your right mind, and neither is he. so he cums with a groan, shaking as he spills pressed against your cervix.

the air's.. different now, satisfied and calm. you both lay there for a while, until hobie's picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up.

after, he lights another joint that you two share tucked under his covers, hugged up like a couple.

not quite plug!hobie holds you as you both fall asleep.

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black reader #hobie smut #hobie x black reader #hobie x reader #tw weed #ummmm yeah that happened #hope y'all like it #wrote most of this today :3 #OKAY TIME 2 POST

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dorcas4meadowes · 3 months

Note

thinking abt daughter of aphrodite reader decorating lukes face w/ kisses in different shades of lipstick🫶🏻🫶🏻

Lipstick Smudges - Luke Castellan

Pairing - Luke Castell x Aphrodite!reader

Warnings: kisses

W/c - 1k

Masterlist (this was such a cute request <3)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The Aphrodite sanctuary were the epitome of beauty, but it would be nothing if not for its inhabitants. Its delicate walls were adorned with oil paintings and a collection of mirrors, reflecting the children who called it home. A majority of the interior were carved marble with streaks of grey and gold, including the pillars that held up the roof that were enhanced with flourishing blossoms. The flooring harmonised with the column structures and quite adamantly noted the arrival of heels against its solid surface.

Mary Janes were the only sound that were produced when you entered your dainty cabin, your skirt lifted over your thighs with each step and your heels ceased to be heard when you drifted against the comfort of your seat. You veered towards your vanity and skimmed your fingers against the veneer, admiring the new possessions you had acquired since you last return to your cabin.

The surface was embellished with blooming tulips from you Demeter admirers, dark chocolate from your siblings - who had a fondness for the treat - and seashells from Percy who noticed you love for the sea's gift.

Grateful for your offerings, you reached for you signature perfume and allowed the subtle hints of cherries and wild flowers to enchant your clothes and those who ventured too close.

You broke of a piece of the chocolate and let you esteemed appearance to muse your glowing features, matching your movements through the mirror.

You readjusted the ribbons that were weaved through your hair, reaching into your draws to touch up your exterior. You dusted a deep blush along your cheeks and leant for a gloss which had seemed to have additional companions. You were confused at the increase of lipsticks, but that didn't pose you from setting them on your desk.

You received plenty of tokens from unknown campers, but this gift seemed too particular to be from a stranger. You slipped the lid off of one of the cases and took no time to apply the creamy formula against your lips, astonished at the specific shade which complimented you greatly.

"Thought you might like them".

You peeled your eyes away from your vanity and found your boyfriend leaning against the door frame, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"I do, very much, thank you" you chimed, placing your feet on the marble to float into his arms. His hands rested against the small of your back as you planted a kiss on his cheek, the mark reflecting the crease of your lips.

You never questioned where he got your gifts from, you preferred to linger in the feeling of being doted on and he took the pleasure in spoiling you. He sought out pearls and dewy lotions, sun kissed flowers and dresses which reached just above your thighs, he made you feel adored.

You were an angel, a breath of fresh air and he never once let you feel anything other than purely cherished. You were an embrace from the Elysium, the triple repeated numbers on your thighs only reinforcing the notion of your soft voice and gentle hands. He often toyed with the pleasuring thought that only his eyes would see your tattoo, that only his fingers would graze against the skin of your thighs and that the numbers were your shared secret.

"Wanna come in?" you asked to which he nodded, he would rather throw himself into Tartarus that reject an invitation to your cabin. You linked your hands together and tugged him into the room and closed the door. You pulled him towards your desk and sat him amongst the golden swirls and satin ribbons.

His hands took not time and settled around your waist, toying with the hem of your skirt while his arms swayed with your movements. He admired your busy eyes flutter around your space delicately as your reached for a lipstick behind him and applied a generous layer to your lips blending a lighter shade into the deeper tone. He was unaware of your next move, but he knew he would do anything if you asked with your lips.

Everything slowed when you draped your arms around his neck and brushed a kiss just above the previous stain, coming to a stand between his stretched legs. He felt you smile against his jaw as trailed deliberate kisses down his neck, leaving small bites along his skin.

"Can you pass me the darker one?" you questioned, your breath against him.

He wordlessly agreed and let a hand fall from your side and retrieved you case, slipping it through your fingers. You set a warm kiss on his other cheek, and grew to cover the thin scar on his skin, a small laugh leaving your lips as you decorated your boyfriend in your kisses.

Luke relished in the feeling before it stopped. "Do you need something my love?"

You nodded mindlessly and took his prying hands off of your waist, "My shoes are digging into my heels" you replied.

You know you didn't have to say much to have Luke leant to your ankles to unstrap the attachments while your fingers found his curls, playing with a few coils as he individually lifted each heel from your feet to place them beside your desk. His head slowly rose.

"Better?"

You smiled in response and peppered a few more kisses against his dizzy face noting how his skin had been tinted by pinks and reds.

"My pretty boy" you gleamed, pulling away, his thumb wiping smudged colour off from under your lip. "Wait one moment".

"What?"

Within a few moments you had evaporated from his arms and were reaching into one of you sisters draws, you rummaged until you found an old camera and brought back to your desk and to your boyfriend. "Smile" you mused. Your fingers eagerly gripping onto the polaroid as it came from the camera, you shook it lightly and handed it to Luke.

"I hope this comes off" were his only response as he took you back in his arms and held you close.

You were an angel with a sweet smile and he were a boy with soft curls and a mind full of thoughts. You were the perfect couple, the perfect combination of wits and ambition, but nothing could truly ever be as fragile as love. It was a drug which made your world rose and trusting, but the repercussions of this action are not for you to worry about, at least not at this moment of time.

What could possibly happen? Nothing with your boyfriend at least, he wouldn’t’ even hurt a fly let alone a scorpion.

The sweet memory of your day was encapsulated in the picture which was later weaved between the space in your mirror and it's frame, highlighting your affection for the boy and subsequently and your biggest anguish.

_________

Taglist:

@prettyinsatiable @daisydark @creamsweets @auttumnsayshi @y0urm0m12 @ashr0

#luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #riawrites

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hyuburt · 1 year

Photo

I think Fantasy High would look good animated in the total drama style since they’re both chalk full of chaotic sweaty teenage energy. Here are the bad kids on their first day of school

[ID: Two images of the same lineup of characters, with the top one being the colored version and the lower one being the line art. They depict the six main characters from D20′s Fantasy High from tallest to smallest; Gorgug, Fabian, Kristen, Adaine, Fig, and Riz. They are all drawn and colored mostly in line with canon, with some slight variations to accommodate the total drama style. Gorgug’s eyes were stylized into two white dots with slight bags underneath, and he is standing upright with his hands nervously brought up to his chest with a slightly timid expression on his face. His hoodie is a slightly de-saturated purple with grey sweatpants and purple sneakers. He has dark green skin and black wavy hair that falls above one eye. His wobbly, down-turned mouth has a tusk poking out of the higher side (he normally has two, it’s just the way his expression was drawn made it so only one was visible.) His face shape and nose are rounded to give him a softer appearance and there are two little lines indicating the beginning of teenage stubble on his chin. Next to him on the right is Fabian, who stands with his arms crossed and his head turned haughtily to the right, a smug expression on his face. He is wearing his red owlbear jacket with white sleeves, greyish brown loose workout pants, a black undershirt, and red sneakers. He has brown skin and swept back white hair that is shaved on the sides. His nose slopes downwards and he has two eyelashes under both eyes to denote that he is a fancy, pretty boy. He is drawn with a strong, square jawline and a build that is both muscular yet nimble.To his right is Kristen who has a stocky, more rounded build and is wearing a rainbow tie dye shirt with a simplified corn logo in the center, denim shorts, green flip flops, and a rainbow bracelet. She has curly orange hair that curls around her round face, light tan skin with freckles, bushy orange eyebrows, an upturned nose, and dark green eyes that are upturned in a smile. To her right is Adaine, who is slouched slightly with her arms crossed and an unhappy expression on her face as she looks off to the ground. She is wearing blue circular glasses over her round blue eyes, her blue two-piece hudol uniform, knee-high grey socks, and black mary jane shoes. She has light brown skin and short, straight blonde hair swept back from the front of her face in a widow’s peak. She has a small, pointy nose and a circular face with a small pointy chin. Above her is a version of her face without her glasses. To her right is Fig, who is standing proudly with one hand on her hip and the other in a finger gun. She has light reddish skin and brown hair in a braid that has a bright purple streak in her bands and at the end of her braid like it was dipped in paint. She has a long, pointy face and a slightly hooked nose. Her eyes are a dark pomegranate color and slightly upturned. She is wearing purple lipstick, a short leather jacket with a cropped grey shirt underneath it that has a picture of a horned skull on it, a black choker, fingerless gloves on both hands, a plaid skirt and belt with black leggings underneath, dark brown boots, and a single fishnet coming up to her calf on her right leg. To her right is Riz, who is holding a magnifying glass up to his face with one eye squinted to see through it and his other hand on his hip. A single fang peeks through the corner of his small smile. He has a green tail that swishes in front of him. He is wearing his signature brown cap and two piece suit with mauve pants, vest, and tie. His skin is light green with freckles under his eyes, his eyes are light greenish-yellow with slits for pupils, and his hair is dark green and swept back under his cap. Above him is a version of his head without his cap, showing that his hair is swept back from the front and curls away from his face, giving him a windswept appearance.]

#my art #d20 #dimension 20 #fantasy high #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #kristen applebees #adaine abernant #fig faeth #riz gukgak #the bad kids #total drama #td fantasy high #note: gorgug has two tusks it's just that his expression makes it so only one is visble at the time #total drama high

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kafkasmuses · 3 days

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CALIGULA — luke castellan + reader : luke castellan, in all his reign, has a love for sexual pleasure, more importantly with you.

tags: mdni, inspired by ancient roman stories, luke is a pervert, dark!luke, p in v sex, jealousy, possessiveness, assistant!reader, captain!luke, luke is an awful man in this sawry

a/n: ive been binge watching the roman empire show

LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR.

41 AD.

luke castellan can’t deny how harsh of a captain he was on the princess andromeda.

he wanted to be the best captain on the sea, wanted to get his revenge on camp halfblood and the gods, wanted to live the lavish life he had always dreamed of. he thought of a life where he would drink red wine out of chalices, be fed grapes from the hands of beautiful women, or men, he wanted to be treated like a god— because in his mind, he would be the best god to ever exist.

you started out as his assistant, writing papers for him on a simple typewriter that he gave to you, a fucking typewriter. you tried to remind him it was no longer the 1950s, he scoffed like you were stupid. “you know people used them in the 1800s, right?”

your lips press together, looking at him, then the typewriter, then back to him. you offer a small smile, and he doesn’t return it, he never does, and he never will. luke took things very seriously, maybe too seriously, so he never let himself smile, let alone laugh, a bitter scoff was all you’d get from him at most.

you were pliant, luke noticed, and he liked that. you did everything he asked, every time he asked. he’d call your name, and hear your heels clicking against the wooden floorboards no less than a second later. speaking of heels, luke was strict about dress codes, too.

to call him a pervert.. well, you wouldn’t be far off.

he wanted you to wear things like tight pencil skirts, short or long, thin tights, maybe even solely stockings, stiletto heels that he’d purchased for you the second he saw you show up in mary janes, and a simple shirt or blouse. he liked glasses, too, thin, square framed ones, like bayonetta’s.

you had to wear dark red lipstick, regardless.

you hated your boss, more than anything, the way he’d walk into a room and easily command it, the way his body language reeked of cockiness, the way that despite all evilness, he still thought he was doing something for the greater good.

what you hated the most, is how much you fantasized about him.

that’s why you always ran to him so quick when he called out for you, why you endured the loud clacking of the typewriter keys even when you had to do a paper at night and he opened your door to yell at you to ‘shut the fuck up or get thrown off the damn boat.’

he was never a good man, nor a good boss, but he looked good.

you liked when he was angry, when he yelled at you, when he held your jaw so tight you were sure he’d shatter it and spit degrading words at you like you were vile. it should be such a shame that you enjoy it, but you don’t pity yourself one bit. he was meaner with you, he always cracked awful jokes with the rest of the crew, drank beers with them, lit their cigarettes, but you, you were the person he took all his anger out on.

well, at first it was anger.

then he began to ever so slowly show his desires for sexual connections. he was able to hold it in at first, act like he wasn’t missing having sex, like he wasn’t missing the simple touch of a woman or man. masturbating wasn’t keeping him sane for long, not when he didn’t have anything to masturbate to. then he began to focus his attention onto you.

you were attractive, and luke couldn’t hold back how his short glances turned to stares. his jaw ticks, lips parting, “i want you to wear shorter skirts.”

“mini skirts?” you blink at him, he had called you to his office, and his eyes were traveling over your body every second he got.

“yeah,” he pauses, “and lower cut shirts.”

before your lips can even part, he dismisses you, and bluntly stares at your ass when you walk away. it was so ironic, luke used to be such a virgin, a complete loser, but now he was nothing short of the opposite. he was cocky, he knew he was handsome, he knew people were attracted to him easily, mostly sexually.

if luke was lucky, at some stops, he might be able to bring back a few women or men home with him, they always gawked at the ship, told him how cool it is that he has a boat, that he’s a captain, and has a crew, that everyone does everything for him.

they thought it was hot, so they wanted to do things for him to, he’d take them to his quarters, and provide them with red wine before moaning could be heard all throughout the ship.

but his boat was in the middle of the sea, and has been for a month or so now, and he felt like he was going insane.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🍷

luke was struggling to sleep, insomnia was getting the best of him, he thought that if he drank more and more wine, he would eventually wind down. he never did. he only got slopper, and aroused. the worst mix on nights like these was the bubbling frustration that he didn’t have anything to fuck, and the fact that he wanted to fuck something so bad.

his dick strains in his boxers, and his teeth grit together, mentally cursing himself for continuously offering himself one more drink, after the third glass, knowing he’d have a fourth, and a fifth. he’d drank the whole bottle, and he wasn’t even close to tired.

his body feels warm, so warm. you come to his mind almost immediately, making his his hands draw closer to the hem of his boxers. the way your ass looks in those skirts, the stockings that meet at the middle of your thigh, the sheer shirts that barely showed the color of your bra, the slight cleavage you show when leaning over to place paperwork on his desk.

he recalls the one time he had came into your room in the dead of night in search of a document, but he was immediately met with the floral of your perfume, and the way your blanket barely covered your naked form. he shouldn’t look, really, he should shy away and close the door, but he swallows thick seeing your breast, the slight parting of your legs, the way your cunt barely peeks out the messily moved blanket.

he wouldn’t have actually done it, of course, because he’s a respectable man who puts consent above all else— but he wonders what it would look like if he pushed your legs apart, moved the blanket, and spread your pussy open for him. to be sleeping naked, how scandalous. he’d never know that you purposefully put the document in your room when you knew you wanted it, you purposefully slept naked, you purposefully moved the blanket in those ‘messy’ ways.

he inhales sharply, fingers moving underneath the fabric of his boxers to graze over his cock. it’s so perverted, to think of you like this, to imagine pulling you onto his lap the next time you come into his office, fingers gripping your skin the same way they grip his cock now. you’d probably melt into his touch, so innocent, so pliant, your doe eyes staring at him like he’s the only man who had ever existed, like he’s a god. and that’s what he is, a captain, an emperor, a god.

he thinks of himself, and is immediately reminded of caligula.

the roman emperor in 31 AD, he was described by some as a tyrant, but in the beginning, he was one of the best leaders in ancient rome. he was just like luke, addicted to sexual acts, wanting all the finest things in life, and the worst part— luke was just as paranoid as him.

but that was of no worry now, he was too focused on the pleasure that coursed underneath his flesh, or the simple thought of pushing his dick into your cunt, making your eyes roll back with pleasure you’d only ever dreamed of. luke knew he could make you feel good, and eventually he would. he imagined all the positions he would push you into, on your back, on your stomach with your ass up, having you ride him— gods.

he wondered if whenever you tried to make excuses for being far too late at typing up a paper in time, he could just simply have you on your knees for him, fucking your mouth so you’d shut up. bruising your lips, ruining your lipstick, making you cry, all of those thoughts sends luke over the edge in no less than a minute or two.

his skin is sticky with sweat, fingers coated in his own cum, but all he wants is more.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🍷

like mentioned before, luke had a madness problem.

ever since he had been cast out, he had this odd paranoia problem, he thought the gods would strike him down at any second, that they were watching his every move, or that percy jackson would find his way to his ship and kill him himself for all the damage he’s caused.

the lack of sex wasn’t the only thing driving luke mad, it was the cage of his own mind. the fact that he’s surrounded by the very thing that the man who’s responsible for percy’s existence owns, the sea. it all makes him sick, often times there will be crashing from his quarters in the late of night, but it always stopped as soon as it started.

this night was different, it just kept going. first something being pushed over, then the breaking of glass, more crashing, more shatters, yelling, some screaming— it was a nightmare. some of the crew woke up, but you were the only one who dared to take a step out onto the deck that night, let alone approach his quarters.

knock. knock. knock.

no response, a deafening silence underneath the crashing waves and the crackling of the candle in your hand.

knock. knock.

the lack of response is worrying. he almost always responds, either it’s to tell you to fuck off, or to come in. but now, nothing. he couldn’t have hurt himself, could he? you test the waters, fingers curling around the doorknob and turning it with the expectation for it to be locked as it always is.

it was unlocked. you push the door open, glancing in to see the mess that he had made of his own room, and him just simply sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. “luke?”

“captain,” he immediately mumbles out, a correction.

“captain,” you repeat, taking a step further inside, he has offered nothing against you being inside of his quarters. you are typically never allowed in here. you move to close the door behind you, placing the candle into the nearest holder that wasn’t completely destroyed.

you turn back to him, his head was raised to look at you, arms now lazily splayed onto his spread legs in his sitting position. he was a chronic manspreader, something you noticed, but seeing him faintly hunched over pathetically like this, tired eyes staring at you, sweat beading at his temple— he was so hot.

“are you okay?” you offer, voice as sweet as ever.

“am i okay?” he scoffs, a chuckle following after, he’s never chuckled in front of you before, “am i okay, am i okay—“ he hums, “what do you think, hm? you think i’m okay?”

his voice is confronting and harsh, like he wants to see you cower down, like he wants to break you like all the other things in his room. your brows furrow together for a second, “no..?”

“no, no, atta girl— you’re catchin’ on,” he smiles at you for the first time, “why don’t you help me feel better, yeah?”

you stare at him for a second, wondering if he meant what you thought he meant, “yeah.”

“yeah.” his voice is hushed, almost mocking, “c’mere.”

you immediately walk over to him in the ambient lighting, marking out your silhouette, stepping over all the things he’s knocked over. a grin tugs at his lips, cruel and cocky, he loves how easy you do anything he asks. his hand is gentle on your waist, pulling you closer, “so good for me.”

you nod at him, letting his hand guide you down to your knees, pupils dilated up at him so perfectly. his tongue swipes along the backside of his teeth, moving his hand to hold your jaw, tilting your head to properly look up at him. maybe it was wrong to fuck his assistant, someone working for him, but it just felt so right, all of this felt like it was in the prophecy.

his thumb swipes along your bottom lip, smearing the red lipstick there, of course you put that on before coming to his room. “so pretty,” he mumbles under his breath, dipping his finger between your lips and into your mouth. your lips curve up ever so slightly, leaning into his touch, lips closing around his flesh.

he takes it away from your mouth just as quick as it was slotted between your lips, moving to undo his belt, the veins in his hands shifted with each movement of his hands, first it was his belt, then his pants, then his boxers.

you always thought luke would have a big dick, he just has that certain cockiness that makes you think he couldn’t have a small dick and be acting the way he is, but this felt like it would hardly fit in your mouth.

you glance up at him, his amused stare which immediately turns to faux concern when you say, “i don’t think it’ll fit—“

“it will,” he immediately cuts in, prying your mouth open with his thumb whilst his free hand eases your head closer, “i’ll make it fit.”

your tongue runs along the vein at the bottom of his dick, already feeling the heaviness of it against the muscle in your mouth. you had sucked a few dicks before, sure, but this one was the biggest, and the cleanest. his hand holds your jaw when you start taking him into your mouth properly, tongue flat against the bottom of his cock, eyes peering up at him through heavy lids.

his lashes flutter pathetically, mouth falling open with your every movement, the way the saliva from your mouth coats him perfectly— he needed this. it felt like a dream coming right after a nightmare, he was exhausted, sweating from his breakdown, and you were sent to him right when he needed it, an angel on his shoulder.

but you’re going too slow, and luke’s growing restless from sitting so still. he can feel the ache of your jaw, but he wishes to make it worse somehow, as cruel as it sounds. his hand moves to the back of your head, hips ever so slowly bucking into your mouth, it was barely noticeable at first, until the sound of you sputtering and gagging around him fueled him more.

his thrusts quickly turned harsh, bruising, merciless.

he only paused when you slapped at his thigh pathetically, moving off to pant heavily, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. you looked so messy, so pathetic, lipstick smeared, eyes puffy from falling tears. “always wanted this, huh? i notice how you look at me, always running to my office any chance you get, such a slut.”

you nod at him, and that only makes him want to say more, “do you believe in god?”

“yes, yes,” the response is immediate.

“am i your god?”

you pause at him, processing, what would the best answer be?

yes, of course, that would be the best answer. in luke’s own mind, all this misery, all this destruction, all this betrayal, it was only the start of his story to reach the top. when caligula was next in line for the throne and his father was on his deathbed, he killed his own father with hardly any hesitation, then became one of the most memorable roman emperors alongside julius caesar.

luke had been planning the murder of hermes for a long, long time, ever since the first book about caligula he read. killing percy jackson was a failure, all several times, so he had no other choice than to just shoot for the stars.

luke’s eyes refocus onto the situation at hand rather than being stuck in his own mind, he had you pushed on your stomach with your ass up, the position he always wished to put you in, the position he’s put multiple other women and men in.

his hands smooth over your ass, memorizing the canvas that he wants to splatter paint over. there’s something so intimate about this whole ordeal, the dim lighting of sole candles in all the destruction around his room, the crashing of waves on the sides of the boat as it moves through the sea, the red wine that luke drinks from the bottle he had just picked up.

he hums at the taste, rich, perfect. “want some?”

you shake your head, and he tuts in faux disappointment, “no fun, aren’t you? just want me to fuck you? needy, needy.”

albeit his degrations, his tip presses to your entrance, lips pressing together when he pushes in— holy fuck, you were tight. luke’s breathing is ragged, he feels as though your pussy is desperately trying to squeeze an orgasm out of him in seconds. it only worsens when you accidentally glench, making his teeth grit together, he coughs out a bitter chuckle, “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“no, nono—“ it was too late for the begging for forgiveness, his thrusts were already brutal, slamming into you without a single regard for how much pain it would leave you in, in the morning. caligula was a possessive lover, a harsh fucker, a man ruled by jealousy and madness— luke castellan was born from the same map of caligula.

his hands grip your hips harshly, punching out sweet moans from your bitten lips with every thrust, “fuck, fuck! luke!”

luke’s tongue prods at the inside of his cheek for a mere second before his hand suddenly moves to the back of your head, harshly tugging your hair back, “captain.”

another correction.

as soon as your back hits his chest, his hand moves from your hair to your neck, gripping the delicate skin there tight. he ignores your attempts to get his attention by placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses to his jaw, leaving his skin stained with your lipstick. his eyes were too focused on the mirror placed in front of him, of course he had one there, it was cracked, but he was still able to make out the way your skin trembled underneath him, the way his thrusts sent shivers up your spine, the way he easily made you cock drunk.

it didn’t take long for him to have you cumming on him as well, in which he followed soon after with a gritted out fuck.

luke’s eyes may be glazed over when he looks back in the mirror, but he doesn’t see himself in his position, he sees caligula.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan blurb #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan oneshot #pjo luke #charlie bushnell imagine #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell x you #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell smut

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mxqdii · 7 months

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hi!! so, I was wondering if you could do a Matt x girly reader head cannon, if you haven't already of course! Like I'm just imagining reader always wearing pink and skirts and dresses and always having her hair and makeup done? Idk I'm sure you could make it super cute<3!

headcannons - m.s x girly gf

pairings: matt sturniolo x reader

summary: headcannons

warning(s): mentions of getting cat called

not proofread

matt would watch you do your makeup in amazement like everytime. (although he thinks you're beautiful either way)

i feel like the fans would find you and matts relationship sooo cute like seeing matt x girly reader is soo AWHH

he would def be very protective over you (like extra) i can't really explain why

would for sure call you 'cute' like everyday

loves when you put bows in your hair, like finds it absolutely adorable and it melts his heart

even though you ask nick to take most of your instagram pics, if you asked him?? he'd be smiling the whole time and probably get distracted staring at you and forget to take the pics 😭

bye if someone cat calls you?? jaw is clenched and chris probably has to hold him back 💀

loves when you kiss his cheek and it leaves a lipstick mark (he'd be the type to not wipe it off)

if your skirt rides up (i hate when this happens) he'd make sure to pull it down for you and tbh is just always looking out for you

his hand is always on your thigh

wakes you up with coffee or tea (whichever u prefer) in a pink mug

ties your shoes for you or if you wear mary janes he would strap them for you (if that makes sense)

would buy candles you like and put them in his room so he could light them when you come over (nick and chris tell him his room smells like you after)

if you wear a girly perfume sent?? the boy is obbsesed and would always be near you, hugging you extra, he's in love with your scent

if you read, he'd just stare at you adored at your focusness, loving your expressions as you keep reading.

always buys you jewlery or pink things in general

buys you stuffed animals

lets you put facemasks on him because he likes how happy you get

keeps candy in his pockets for you (or something sweet)

buys you starbucks

TAGLIST:

@annaisabookworm @stargirlv0id @strniolo

#matt sturniolo headcannons #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #fluff #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matthew x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #nick sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #madispeaks!

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thesimline · 6 months

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I had so much fun creating my recent Scooby Doo magazine covers I was dying to convert more iconic characters. Next on the list was the Powerpuff Girls, who I thought - thanks to their bold colour palette, fun personalities and adorable Mary Janes - perfectly translated to 1960s teen fashion models. Once again the article titles are real life episodes of the show.

Which iconic characters would you like to see next on a magazine cover?

OUTFIT RESOURCES

All: Brows | Eyeshadow (TSR) | Eyelashes (TSR) | Lipstick

Bubbles: Hair | Earrings (TSR) | Outfit | Socks (TSR) | Shoes

With thanks to some amazing creators: @miikocc @twisted-cat @eunosims @elu-delu @daylifesims @trillyke @serenity-cc @sentate @okruee @lehgames

#ts4 #ts4 cc cas #the sims 4 #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #lookbook #1960s #1960s fashion #retro sims #ts4 lookbook #s4 lookbook #sims 4 lookbook #sims retro #vintage sims #1960s lookbook #powerpuff girls #pop culture #decades lookbook #magazine cover

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111starlight111 · 11 months

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moonstruckme · 4 months

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hiiii ! im not sure if you take requests but i would LOVE just a small sirius x coquette reader blurb!!! nothing specific just anything!

i just think they would be so opposites and it would be so so cute <3

Hi gorgeous, I do! Thanks for requesting <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 810 words

“I feel like I’m smelling smoke,” you say, and Sirius hastily lets the strand of hair fall from the curling wand.

“You’re delusional,” he replies when it doesn’t look totally charred. “I’m a pro at this, sweetheart.”

You hum dubiously. “Well, I appreciate your help. I can never reach the ones in the back, they always end up looking wonky.”

“Yeah, you owe me big,” Sirius lets his voice stretch long and reluctant, as if you don't both know how much he loves getting to play with your hair. “Gonna do a ribbon today?”

“Sure.” You lean forward to apply your lipstick in the mirror.

“Which one?”

“You can pick, Siri.”

He deliberates for a moment, taking the opportunity to let his eyes skim over you under the guise of assessing your outfit, before holding a pink one up in the mirror for your approval. You nod happily, and Sirius begins gathering your hair in his hands.

“Hold still a minute, pretty thing.” He makes sure there’s a couple of ringlets loose in the front like you like them and pins the ribbon in place.

“Is it straight?” you ask, twisting your lipstick shut and capping it.

“Dollface, you wound me.”

“Fine, I’ll trust you.” You roll your eyes with a smile. “Ready to go, love?”

“Actually, let me get ready really quickly.” Sirius peers into the mirror with great concentration and shoves his hands into his hair, shaking it out at the roots until it looks as messy as possible. “Okay, ready.”

“Hilarious.”

“You’re just jealous,” he says, “that my routine is so much easier than yours.”

“Siri, I’ve seen you spend hours cutting the sleeves off of all your t-shirts.” You give him a teasing look, slipping your feet, clad in frilly socks, into your Mary Jane’s while Sirius tugs on his combat boots. “Don’t act like you’re so low-maintenance.”

“You wish you had tattoos this sick to show off.” Sirius feels sort of like a big dog you’ve got on a leash, the way you stroll towards the front door with him on your heels.

“Not really, no. That’s your thing, not mine.”

“Someday,” he says wistfully, following you out the door and shutting it behind him. “Someday I’m going to get you into a tattoo shop, and you’re going to come out looking so punk rock no one will even recognize you.”

You give him a deadpan look, though the effect is made somewhat less intimidating by your sweet face and cutesy outfit. “Sure, love.” Sirius grins at you, straddling his bike and slipping on his helmet. You hesitate. “Can we walk? It’s not far, and I don’t want the wind to mess up my hair.”

“Oh.” A tiny pang of disappointment goes through Sirius, but he understands. Hair is always the priority. “Sure.”

“Actually, wait just a second.” You lean in close to his face, frowning, and Sirius’ eyebrows inch upwards before he realizes you’re using the reflective visor of his helmet to see yourself. You purse your lips.

“I forgot to blot,” you say quietly, almost to yourself. You bring a finger to your mouth, tapping at your bottom lip to remove the excess lipstick. Sirius watches the motion with unchecked awe, your pretty pink lips supple and oscillating under your touch.

“Siri, baby, can I have your hand?”

He gives it to you without hesitation, and you raise it to your lips, stamping pink lipstick onto the backside of his palm. You press your lips together one final time before smiling, satisfied. “Okay, you can take the helmet off now.”

Sirius does, almost in a trance, looking down at the mark you’ve left on his hand. It’s perfectly pressed, the pink a funny-looking contrast against his dark painted nails and the silver rings that adorn his knuckles.

“C’mere, sweet thing,” he says. You look a bit perplexed, but step closer to where he’s still straddling his bike, the dainty floral pattern of your tights brushing his dark jeans. He takes your face in both hands. “You’re so lovely, you know that?”

You’re well used to Sirius’ flirting, but the sincerity in his voice has a pretty blush rising to the apples of your cheeks. The pinkness of it matches nicely, the thinks, with your lipstick and the ribbon in your hair. Sirius pulls you towards him, smushing his lips to yours.

You make a startled sound of protest. “Sirius!” you pull away, raising a hand to hover by your lips. “You’re going to mess it up!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, but you’re already picking up his helmet from where he’d set it on the seat, checking your reflection. “It’s more punk rock that way.”

“I told you.” You swipe at a smudged spot of pink at the corner of your lips, giving him a dazzling smile. “That’s your thing, not mine.”

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