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the-illiterate-pirate · 1 year

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La Squadra NSFW headcanons because I'm feral ♡

Cut for length (and content ofc)

Risotto

- Literally one of the most vanilla guys you'll meet in the Mafia. Don't get me wrong my man has his kinks but he's pretty bare bones

- Contrary to popular belief he's not a big fan of blood play and doesn't like to mix work with intimate affairs. He does have a bit of an oral fixation (giving and receiving) and really likes saliva though

- His member is pretty average sized actually. I mean compared to this mountain of a man it may look a bit small but trust me, he knows how to use it

- Does in fact have a cock piercing. It's a magic cross, have fun looking that up. Apparently it helps stimulate too

- His favorite position is cowgirl

Prosciutto

- Sleeps around a lot tbh but really wants to settle down with a special someone after leaving the gang

- Honestly I would not trust him with aftercare he thinks it's lighting a cigarette with a glass of (insert liquor because idk wtf Italians drink)

- Super lazy but can be a really good brat tamer if you push him

- Doesn't have a daddy kink but loves being called "Sir" and likes a power imbalance

- Will smack that ass and it will hurt

- Will fall asleep after finishing his glass but will at least offer to cuddle

Pesci

- Dreams of becoming the perfect man in bed. But I mean he's already got 5/5 stars with aftercare so he's halfway there. Like he can be buck naked and shaking but he'll still ask you if you're okay and try to comfort you afterwards

- Has the BIGGEST dick in the group I won't take criticism or notes my man is PACKING HEAT he just doesn't know how to use it (yet) take caution

- Low-key a masochist and likes to be bossed around but can be a little fragile, please be good and make sure to check up on him uwu. If things get too heavy he might try to force himself to do something to the point he ruins the experience for himself :( communication is key with him

- On a lighter note he VERY MUCH enjoys queening/kinging and will gladly let you sit on his face

- PRAISE HIM PLEASE HE'S A GOOD BOY TRYING HIS BEST AND HE NEEDS TO KNOW IT

Formaggio

- Okay yes he likes pet play are you happy. Luckily he's a major bisexual switch so it can go both ways. He likes being your good puppy <3

- STOP GIVING RISOTTO THE SIZE KINK WHEN IT RIGHTFULLY BELONGS TO THIS KING HIMSELF. He WILL use his Stand on you when you least expect it because he's an ass this is your warning

- Like stated before big switch energy, is a nasty dom when he wants to be but will only bottom if you soft dom him because he does not believe in equality

- He FALLS ASLEEP IMMEDIATELY afterwards and he SNORES because he HATES HIS S/O /j

- Also really loves oral and giving sloppy head. Mf DROOLS EVERYWHERE

Illuso

- Likes to act like a bad bitch but loves when he gets pampered like he will melt if you play with his hair

- Another switch (like most of the JoJo cast but whatever) but it's easier for him to bottom because he's lazy.

- LOVES receiving overstimulation for some reason like suck this man dry until he cries he'll be living it up. Safe words exist for a reason and he use it to his (dis)advantage

- VOICE KINK !! All types of noises from you can get him off. With good ole' Lulu it's important to be vocal, tell him how you feel, make noise, dirty talk, the whole nine yards

- Has a little issue with self worth so like praise this baby, worship this baby, he'll be in heaven

- Shockingly? Pretty good with aftercare

Ghiaccio

- Oh my god it's so easy for him to get overwhelmed and he HATES IT I'm begging for your sake treat him gently

- Easy to fluster because he's pretty new to relationship stuff and he'll need you to show him the ropes. You could very well be one of his first, sex is very intimate for him and he'd like to stick with one person

- Low-key bites

- Due to Stand reasons his limbs are very cold, he will use this against you

- I said Risotto was vanilla but man Ghia might take the cake, he's a bit of a stiff when it comes to the bedroom, but that isn't always bad. He likes good old missionary and making sure he takes care of you, but if he's overly stressed he'll give you the reigns for the night

- If all goes well, and he isn't overstimulated, sex actually really helps him relax, he's a lot more bubbly afterwards and likes to stay up with you, talking, drinking water (but not eating anything because he refuses to have crumbs in the bed)

Melone

- Has the WEIRDEST fixation on bodily fluids like I get where he's coming from but WHY

- As smooth as a baby. Everywhere. We think he waxes but we haven't seen proof yet. He's also got a pretty dick.

- Ribbons, ropes, chains, leather, he's a really big fan of restraints as long as there's a safe word and you're both on the right track

- Totally down to try anything, just ask. He's eager to please.

- Yes.... He has a breeding kink. He wants a big family

- Idk what you call it but pls pls pls let him suck on your titties while you jerk him off. He can die happily

- Really likes the 69 position (with him on top)

Sorbet & Gelato

- Buy one get one free, you cannot get one without the other let's make that clear. They're both sadistic meanies and will not let you top

- Double penetration or spit roasting is a MUST

- Being in a relationship with each other for so long they've gotten good with aftercare, Gelato is more touchy feely while Sorbet is all about snacks and vitamins

- Sorbet bites, Gelato fucking claws. They're both very into marking you up everywhere and love the embarrassment they get from you

- They love you, they really do... But sometimes they can get a little caught up in the moment with their own makeout sessions

- Afterwards you all just collapse into a pile of limbs lol

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mrs-bluemarine · 7 months

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Haiii :3 I'm still not entirely comfortable posting full on smut on this blog, so I decided to post this oneshot on AO3 instead! A link, for my very adult followers if you're interested. I used my favorite Day 17 prompt from @flightlessangelwings Kinktober list. A little short, but I hope you enjoy <3

#kinktober 2023 #steamy writing #💙 / feels like i'm in love again

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apomaro-mellow · 7 months

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Wrong Number 3

(2:21 am) I just realized something (2:21 am) Ur a cooking teacher (2:22 am) Who can't fry a egg (2:23 am) You're a fraud 🫵

[7:29 am] I can fry an egg just fine I just can't make the yolks runny. It's too hard to time it right. And why are you up thinking about eggs at 2 am?

(7:47 am) I was up thinking about you at 2 am

Steve felt his stomach flip as he sipped his coffee and set his belongings down in his classroom. Eddie didn't play games. He always said exactly what he was thinking. And it drew Steve wild.

(7:48 am) And about how your students might clown on you for not being able to scramble an egg

[7:49] Aww you're worried about me?

(7:49 am) Kids can be little monsters (7:50 am) Actually how old are the little monsters you teach?

[7:51] Youngest is 6 and oldest is 14. Speaking of, they'll be arriving soon so...

(7:52 am) Godspeed you academic warrior

Eddie didn't typically text so late on weeknights. Not since learning Steve was a teacher. It was just that he truly HAD been up and thinking of him. Steve drove him crazy and he thought he was doing a good job keeping a lid on it. 2 am texts were what happened when the lid got loose but Steve didn't seem put off by it.

At about half past three, Steve called him. Eddie was glad he made that leap with his first call. The sound of Steve's voice never failed to warm him through. Eddie was in the middle of collecting axes for sharpening at the end of his shift.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?", Eddie greeted as he picked up.

"Today was good. Had a really riveting conversation about meatloaf versus pate with the kids", Steve said.

"Meatloaf rocks and pate is just cold meatloaf for rich people. End of discussion."

"Well, we talked about it for like fifteen minutes. Had a real interesting tangent on forcemeats in general."

Eddie paused. "Excuse me?"

"You'd be surprised at what kids are into. This one I taught last year was really into rice-"

"I need you to backtrack just a bit. 'Forcemeat'?"

"Yeah it's-oh grow up", Steve chided while shaking his head. He had just gotten home and was taking off his work clothes for something more comfortable. He thought about what Eddie might think he'd look nice in. "Not even my 12 year olds are this childish."

There was something about the way Steve talked about his students. Like they were his actual children. The conversation continued for a few minutes more before Steve suddenly had to hang up. Eddie tried not to think much of it, but it wasn't the first time that it had happened.

Steve ended the call just as Robin came into the apartment. She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked to the phone in his hand. Steve hid it behind his back and winced at practically telling on himself.

"You're hiding something."

"No I'm not."

"And now you're lying to me."

"No I'm not!"

Robin pounced and wrestled him for the phone. It wasn't a real fight of course. Steve could've pinned her in seconds but a part of him was tired of keeping the secret. And obviously, she knew how to unlock his phone.

"Who's Eddie?", she asked, sitting on his back triumphantly.

"A guy."

"Thank you, I had no idea it could be a man's name. You've been texting him aaaaaaa llllllllllllot."

"Are you reading them!? Robin!"

"Where did you meet him?", Robin said as she got up, continuing to read through their conversations.

"I um, technically, haven't. Yet."

Robin gave him an odd look and Steve spilled everything to her. To her credit, Robin listened to the full story before throwing one of the couch pillows at him.

"Stephen Elliott Harrington! Did no one teach you stranger danger? You just kept texting him? And calling? And I saw the pictures you sent. You know he can find out where we live? What if I came home to your skinless corpse??!"

It went on for a while like that and when Robin was finished, she collapsed onto the couch. Steve sat across from her on the coffee table. He waited for her to silently process it all.

"You think he's cute?"

"What I've seen of him, yeah."

Robin sighed. "I can't believe you're turning into the guy who has a internet girlfriend."

Steve rolled his eyes but then balked when she started to read through his messages again.

"And I can't believe you haven't even started flirting yet."

"I've been flirting with him the whole time!" Maybe not the whole time but-

"You're giving him Diet Steve. Why are you holding back?"

Steve shrugged, looking sheepish now. Now Robin was rolling her eyes.

"Steve, we're getting you a date."

"But he's-"

"A virtual one. Jesus is he an axe murderer?", Robin said as she looked to one of the texts.

"No, he just works with them. Axes! Not murderers."

--------------------------------

Eddie was about to sit down to a movie when his phone buzzed.

[5:17 pm] Thinking about you.

Oh. Now that was some text to get.

(5:18 pm) Oh yeah? (5:18 pm) What about me?

Steve looked to Robin. They were sitting cross-legged next to each other on his bed.

"What do I say?"

"Be honest, duh."

"If I'm honest I'm gonna talk about his hands."

Robin shook her hands at him like she wanted to wring his neck. Steve got the idea and decided to put himself out there.

[5:21 pm] Your hands. I think about them a lot actually

Eddie had not given his own hands much thought. But knowing that Steve admired them, he gave them a second look. He thought about them gripping Steve's thighs.

(5:23) You're gonna make me blush (5:24) What would you do with my hands Stevie?

Steve panicked and looked to Robin. "Are we sexting? Is he getting me to sext?"

"That's the idea, dingus. I said I was getting you a date. Now tell him what you want him to do."

"I don't know I'd....I'd want to..." Steve trailed off, looking at his phone while the fingers of his other hand brushed against his lips.

Robin stole the phone from him again and started typing. "'First...I'd suck..on them'."

"Robin!"

"Is that not what you want?"

Steve shrugged and Robin continued. "You've got me on the clock for five more minutes before I go out. You dictate, I'll type."

Steve hated how much he liked the idea. Especially when he heard the ping of Eddie's reply. "What did he say?"

Robin cleared her throat. "'Yeah? You wanna suck on them? I bet you got a beautiful mouth.' Oh he's good."

"Yeah", Steve breathed out. "Really good." He thought about Eddie sticking his fingers in and pressing down on his tongue, his rings tasting metallic and so nice.

"'I wanna choke on them'", Robin said out loud as she typed. "Is it too soon to call him Daddy?"

"What?!" That snapped Steve out of it.

"Oh come on. Tattoos, the hair, his job. He wants to be called Daddy."

"Robin don't call him Daddy."

"Pops?"

Steve took his phone from her and looked to Eddie's reply.

(5:30 pm) I'd only choke you if you were being bad (5:30 pm) Are you gonna be bad baby?

[5:31 pm] Maybe. I can be good too. So good.

(5:32 pm) Lemme call you baby wanna hear you

Steve dialed without hesitation just as Robin was leaving. Her work was done.

"Don't get murdered while I'm out!", she shouted just as Eddie picked up.

"Hey pretty baby", Eddie said.

"Hey. You said you wanted to hear me?"

"Yeah. I wanna hear you say those things with your own voice."

"Like how I wanna choke on your fingers? Among other things?"

Steve could hear Eddie let out a breath on the other end. The power he felt right now was intoxicating.

"Bet you'd look so good on your knees."

Steve hummed while pressing his fingertips to his lips. If Eddie asked, he'd suck on them. Let the wet noises fill his ears, let Eddie know how good he could be.

"Darlin' you went quiet."

"I'm thinking", Steve said, laying down on his bed. "I wanna show you, Eddie."

Eddie swallowed. This man would be the death of him. He'd nearly jerked off to just a picture of his fully clothed lower half. If he saw more...if he saw everything-

"Eddie! We've got a Code Red!"

"Jesus! Knock!"

Steve sat up quick at the shouting coming from Eddie's end. It sounded like someone had barged in.

"Eddie?"

"Sorry. Sorry Steve. I gotta handle something. Um, call you back? Please?"

"Eddie, I want to video call you."

"V..video...?"

"Yes. I wanna see you. Please."

"Yes. Yes, a thousand times-hold your horses! Uh, tomorrow? It's Saturday, so you're free, right? Can we make it a date?"

"A date", Steve nodded. "I'll see you then. I'll be thinking of you."

"And I'll be counting the seconds. 1-one thousand, 2-one thousand, 3-one th-ouch! Okay! Damn!"

Eddie hung up and Steve still had the phone to his ear, smiling. He had a video call date. He had a date with Eddie!

Shit what should he wear?

Part 5

Tag Team (CLOSED)

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #platonic stobin #next part we're gettin steamy #when i 1st heard the word forcemeat i giggled

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hascious · 4 days

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im struggling to balance writing and doodling but im managing nonetheless

also!! i just finished writing myself a little list of events that will happen for the last half of the au, so everythings basically plotted out i just gotta take the time to write it coherently. pray for me

the first half i got to fuck around but now ive gotta take it seriously, so sad </3 but its okay cause once its over i can just doodle silly things about everything and even redraw some of my old concepts

double also... i mightve had an idea a while ago for a small spinoff... i might talk more about it another time...

oh and heres a scuffed reference i made a little while ago for Henry's ability if anyone wanted to know what it looks like as of chapter 6

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murdockparker · 17 days

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Roses and Regrets Part 2

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: What a pleasant life it is, to be a widow with no obligations. Getting new dresses, making unlikely friends, what a treat.

Word Count: 3.9k

Rating: 18+!!! MINORS DNI (I will haunt you)

Warnings: female masturbation, yearning, Reader decidedly hates Anthony (what's new??) , maybe a bit of angst

A/N: oops my hands slipped and this is what happened. sorry bout that, bruv!

first part - next part

—

“You should have seen him, Meg.”

Her lady’s maid nodded along to Lady Barlow’s rant, having heard the interaction in nauseam since she returned from the park. From his appearance to his demeanor—Meg assumed she might as well have been there. Carefully, she continued to remove the pins from the dowager viscountess’ hair, the very same that she had placed in the morning.

“I am sure Lord Bridgerton was certainly unagreeable,” Meg droned, accidentally snagging her lady’s hair. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“You know, you don’t have to do all that, I am a perfectly capable woman,” (Y/N) laughed, looking at her maid in the mirror. “And he was, unagreeable, if you must know.”

“He is alway unagreeable,” Meg said, exasperated. “My lady, please take no offense, but I think this talk of Lord Bridgerton must cease.”

“You do not have to ask me twice,” (Y/N) snorted. “I wish for nothing more than to stop speaking about that oaf.”

Meg blinked. “Right. Of course.”

“You… you do not believe me?”

“I believe you believe it to be true,” Meg carefully stated, hands by her sides. “We have a good friendship, ma’am, and I am ever grateful that you allow me to speak my mind—”

“So speak it,” (Y/N) said, voice tittering on a giggle. “I shall not take offense, I swear it.”

“You have done nothing but speak of Lord Bridgerton since you arrived from your visit to the park,” Meg began, choosing her words carefully. “Save for when you had your meals, hard to speak over soup and the like. I, for one, am exhausted hearing about it. Perhaps a respite from the topic?”

“Imagine how I feel,” (Y/N) finally laughed. “That man makes me insane.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I pray whenever he marries—oh that poor woman—I hope she can teach him some manners.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Perhaps I should send him a book on it? Manners, I mean.”

“Good idea, ma’am.”

“Meg, you are not hearing me.”

“Oh I am hearing you,” Meg nodded. “I am just choosing not to listen.”

She bit her lip, eyeing her friend’s faraway glance. Glassy, almost. “Perhaps… I suppose I should drop the topic for now?”

“It is late,” Meg shook her head, nearly dropping out of a trance. “I have mending to attend to, if you do not mind.”

“You hate the mending.”

“Picking and choosing my battles, ma’am,” Meg smiled politely.

“Admirable,” (Y/N) said. “I suppose it is late…”

“Might I fetch you some more tea before you retire?” She set the last pin down amongst the vanity. Covered in expensive oils and products, it’s a wonder that anyone could find anything at all on the surface. Thank God Meg knew the contents like the back of her hand.

“No… I fear it will keep me up all night, but thank you, truly,” (Y/N) said.

“Goodnight, my lady.”

And then, she was alone.

Snuffing her candle, she hopped into her bed. Thankfully she never shared this one with Lord Barlow—that was reserved in the wing across the estate—leaving this bed untouched by such a soiled man. It was pleasantly plush and covered in endless pillows, she wondered if the royal princesses slept in beds as nice as this one—nicer, probably. More pillows, if she had to wager.

Sheets pulled up to her chin, eyes focused on the ceiling, she tried to chase sleep. Her mother had taught her a trick when she was young, imagining rabbits chasing around the room and counting those—perhaps it was sheep? Regardless, she tried counting. She only made it to twenty nine before flipping onto her side, exasperated by the count.

Sleep never came.

The covers melted off of her body in an instant, floating over to her door to ensure it was locked. Quietly, oh-so quietly, she turned the latch. No need for the staff to interrupt her… sleep. She hardly had to turn to such matters, but when exhaustion cycled her brain and not her body, leaving her tossing and turning all night, she really had no other choice.

No other choice, she reminded herself.

She laid on top of the covers this time, rabbits and sheep all but forgotten.

If there was to be one positive of marrying, it was the sheer fact that she was able to fully understand her body as a woman. While the marital act itself was entirely loathsome—a chore with Lord Barlow that happened infrequently during their marriage to try for an heir—the act of doing it alone?

Why the idea alone just got her heart pounding.

She never had anyone to teach her these things, her mother passed before her marriage, so there was no ‘wedding night talk’. Everything that Lady Barlow had learned was from her sheer will and determination—a chase for something she never quite knew she was racing towards. Her husband? He had never been any help. A few grunts and thrusts before he would spend himself inside, collapsing on top of her for the night.

She refused to give her late husband much thought—not when her hands were on her breasts, one slinking lower to touch a more delicate area.

No. She needed to focus her thinking on something else. Something to get the job done, send her to sleep sooner than later.

The gentleman. The faceless one that she imagined in place of her own hands. It usually sped things along if she focused on a generally well-looking fellow and how he’d touch her instead of just chasing her own feelings with her fingertips. Saved her wrists a lot of pain too—occasionally she felt like she was back practicing her penmanship, writing lines all day with her governess—the ache was fairly similar. Although, one pain caused a higher embarrassment than the other.

Decidedly happy with her diversion of thought, she made quick work on the bottom of her nightdress and pulled it up to her stomach. (Y/N) had never the need to sleep with drawers, feeling a dress was more than enough. Besides, it gave her easy access on nights like tonight. Her fingers danced with her lower lips, already damp with arousal.

She sighed at the first contact, the pure ecstasy of running her fingertips across her glistening folds. In her mind, he was doing this to her, the nameless man who wanted nothing more than to give her what she needed. With slow and tantalizing circles, she teased her clit, gasps leaving her lips involuntarily, her eyes rolling shut before she could even think. Her non-dominant hand continued to grasp at her breast, squeezing and rolling the flesh until she was utterly mindless.

The climb was thrilling, it was suffocating and all encompassing. How she dreamed she could experience this with someone, feel this pleasure with another, both giving and taking exactly what the other needed. She groaned again, feeling herself getting closer to the edge, her circles faster now, the gentleman making good work on her neglected center.

“Gods,” (Y/N) cried, trying her very best to keep her voice down. She didn’t need Meg inquiring about her, not when she was so worked up and so, so close.

And then… the fall. Everything was white and her heart felt like it was bound to beat out of her chest.

Brown eyes.

As she fell into a peaceful slumber, for no reason in particular, she decided her faceless gentleman had brown eyes.

—

Breaking her fast was usually rewarding, the chefs at Barlow Estate were some of the most talented in the ton—of course, only in her humble opinion, not that she had much to compare it to. When she first married Lord Barlow, having such fulfilling meals first thing in morning was almost worth marrying such an oaf. Almost.

“Did you have a good sleep, ma’am?” A butler asked, taking (Y/N)’s empty plate, replacing it with one full of fresh cut fruit.

“Oh!” Her face flushed. “Y-yes, James, of course. I always have a pleasant sleep.”

“You look well rested, ma’am,” he nodded.

“My lady,” Meg spoke up, gaining the attention of Lady Barlow from her fruit. “You have an appointment at the modiste early this afternoon.”

“I don’t recall making an appointment,” (Y/N) held her hand still, half of an apple tight in her grasp.

“I made the appointment, ma’am,” Meg said. “You are in need of new dresses—”

“Is there something wrong with the way I dress?”

“Of course not,” Meg said quickly, her face growing slightly pink. “It is just, since the late Lord Barlow passed you have been in mourning attire—blacks, blues, the entire dreary ensemble. I figured it would be best to get dresses that suited more the colors of the season.”

“I am unsure if you noticed,” (Y/N) said, taking a small bite of her apple. She chewed it quickly. “But my dress today is green.”

“I did notice,” Meg nodded politely. “It is a lovely color, but perhaps a lighter blue would be nice? A purple?”

“Perhaps you should listen to her, ma’am,” James interjected. “The family account has not been used since after your wedding and the mourning attire—”

“And I can use that money elsewhere,” (Y/N) raised her brow. “I’m sure the new viscount will be pleased I am not blowing his money so frivolously, I do not see the need for new dresses.”

Meg sighed, giving James a trying look. He shrugged. “Humor me. Just one dress.”

“Fine. One dress."

Somehow, between the carriage ride to the modiste and the tailoring of a beautiful purple display piece, Lady (Y/N) Barlow was talked into three new dresses. A sharp pinprick to her left leg brought her back to her senses.

“Oh! Lady Barlow, I do apologize,” Madame Delacroix said. “You must keep still as I pin your hems."

“I will try my best,” (Y/N) smiled, glancing down at the woman working hard on her new dress. “How fortunate the display dress you had fits so well.”

“Oui, how fortunate,” Madame Delacroix nodded. “A few pins and stitches and it will be perfect. And this color is very flattering—I am certain the men of the ton will turn their heads at this.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I have no need to turn heads, Madame,” (Y/N) said curtly. “I am simply just refreshing my wardrobe.”

“Oh, no one has the need to turn heads, save for the young ladies,” Madame Delacroix giggled, it sounded almost fake, forced. “But my work will do that regardless, so do expect that Lady Barlow.”

“Joy,” (Y/N) sighed, tilting her head at her reflection. While it hadn’t been an extraordinarily long time since she debuted—a shake over three years at the most—she was no longer the young girl from her first season. Her curves have filled out, her features more defined, so this particular cut was suiting her just fine. Madame Delacroix was the best modiste for a reason, knowing just how to make the ladies of the ton sparkle.

The front door swung open, a sea of blue flooding in the entryway. “Ah, Lady Bridgerton, I shall be with you in a moment!” Madame Delacroix called out.

(Y/N) froze at the mere mention of the Bridgerton name.

“Take your time, Madame,” Lady Bridgerton cooed, practically shoving a book of fabrics in her daughter’s face. Eloise, (Y/N) recalls, the second eldest daughter of the brood. It was her first season. “We’ll be patient.”

“Shall I pull another dress, Lady Barlow?”

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head wildly. “I rather think I am finished for this afternoon. Please add the dresses to my account—”

“Lady Barlow,” Lady Bridgerton said kindly. “How lovely it is to see you.”

Fuck.

“Lady Bridgerton,” (Y/N) curtsied, feeling far too proper. “Likewise.”

“What a lovely color that is on you,” she said, eying the girl up and down. “I take it you are out of mourning then, yes?”

“Have been since the Danbury Ball,” (Y/N) nodded. “But I gather Lady Whistledown has already made that public knowledge.”

Lady Bridgerton's cheeks flushed, like a child with their hand caught in the biscuit jar. “I cannot say that I find myself reading that gossip rag often, but—”

“Oh Mother,” Eloise groaned, looking up at the ceiling in frustration. “You read Whistledown just as often as I.”

“I do not blame you, Lady Bridgerton,” (Y/N) quickly added. The older woman’s shoulders relaxed. “For the many months I was in mourning and not socializing, Whistledown was my way I could keep up with everything. I very much would like to thank her, should I ever get the opportunity.”

“Yes, well,” Lady Bridgerton cleared her throat. “In any case, if you happen to be free tomorrow afternoon, would you like to join me for tea?”

“Tea?”

“I remember how it felt when—” she stopped herself, eyes becoming glassy. “Becoming a widow so suddenly is difficult. I would like to bestow my wisdom upon you if you’d allow it.”

“You are not quite old enough to be bestowing wisdom,” (Y/N) laughed lightly.

“I beg to differ,” Eloise mumbled.

“Flattery, Lady Barlow, will get you everywhere,” Lady Bridgerton smiled, elbowing her daughter lightly. “And you already have the invite, no need to lay it on so thick.”

“That is very kind of you, but—”

“So, shall we say noon tomorrow?”

The Bridgertons, as Lady Barlow gathered, were a difficult lot to say no to.

“Noon. Sounds perfect.”

—

It felt odd, being in the drawing room of Bridgerton House. She only ever had the fleeting thought that she’d ever sit here the once—ages ago during her first season. Now? Now she was sitting and drinking tea with Lady Bridgerton as if nothing was wrong in the world.

“You have a lovely home,” (Y/N) said, holding her teacup a little tighter than she should.

“Thank you,” Lady Bridgerton said voice full of appreciation. “Tell me, Lady Barlow, how is your family?”

“My family?”

“Oh, forgive me for asking,” Lady Bridgerton clarified. “I just had realized that I know very little about you, you were only in the season for such a short time before you married. I figured your family was a good place to start.”

“No, no,” (Y/N) put the cup down. “I understand. Seeing as everyone knows about your family,” Lady Bridgerton chuckled at that, “I should only fill in some blank spaces, I suppose.”

The elder dowager nodded her head, tipping her cup at the younger widow to continue.

“No family, I’m afraid,” (Y/N) said, her voice wavering on sad. “Mother passed a few years before my debut, Father just last year. No siblings, so… just me I’m afraid.”

“Goodness,” Lady Bridgerton pressed a hand to her heart. “Your father and husband in the same year? I am truly sorry for your losses.”

“My mother was the true loss,” she said honestly, her voice practically lifting. “Kindest soul to grace this Earth, I mourn her every day. The others? I do not doubt anyone has missed them.”

“Lord Barlow,” Lady Bridgerton dropped a spoonful of sugar into her cup. “He was an odious man. When I had heard he had taken another wife—it was quite the story around the ton. I was beside myself.”

“I happen to be number three,” (Y/N) said matter-of-factly. “Number One and Two both died in childbirth, trying to give that man his beloved heir. Never worked out, and I cannot say I am crestfallen I never came to be with child, either. The new Lord Barlow is quite well suited for the role regardless, I am told, so I suppose it has worked out for the best.”

“Yes,” Lady Bridgerton had a small smile against her lips, “I can imagine so.”

“Does your son,” (Y/N) coughed, correcting herself, “Lord Bridgerton, does he know I am here for tea?”

“Oh my son is not always privy to my social calendar,” the older woman winked. “He is probably out galavanting and trying to find a wife.”

“A wife?”

“Oh, yes,” Lady Bridgerton nearly beamed. “Lord Bridgerton is finally looking to marry—even after all these years of begging him. Something just clicked last season, I suppose. Perhaps Daphne, the duchess, marrying finally gave him the right idea?”

(Y/N) nodded politely. “I’m sure you’re thrilled.”

“I only wish for the best for all eight of my children,” she nodded, “so seeing him look to marry makes me ever hopeful.”

“Mhm,” (Y/N) sank into more of her cup, polishing it off.

The grand clock ticked away.

“I apologize if this all makes you uncomfortable Lady Barlow,” Lady Bridgerton started. “It is just… when Edmund passed, I had my family and wonderful friends to support me. I figured, perhaps, having another friend would not be the worst thing?”

“Lady Bridgerton, you are very kind for checking in with me, and I very much appreciate this tea,” (Y/N) said honestly. She felt like she could jump out of her skin with anxiety, but tried her very best to keep it under control. “But… as you had alluded, it is no secret that Lord Barlow and I were not a love match. There is no need—”

“Being a widow is hard,” Lady Bridgerton cut her off. “It is rotten work and you feel like a shell of yourself, only having a title such as ours because of who we married and not in our own right. Tell me, do you plan on remarrying?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I am quite content with my life,” (Y/N) said thoughtfully. “Widows have all the freedom in the world, I am allowed many opportunities because of it—far more than when I was simply a little thing on the Marriage Mart.”

“I suppose that would be… correct,” Lady Bridgerton treaded lightly. “However, do you not wish for a family? The support of another?”

“It is not that I do not wish for a family,” (Y/N) said truthfully. “I am sure part of me does, but it is more the matter of everything that comes with it.”

“I could never imagine going about life alone,” Lady Bridgerton said. “After Edmund… I am just grateful my children were here to keep me sane, grounded, even.”

“Children can be a blessing…”

“But children,” Lady Bridgerton added quickly, “they are not for everyone. I hope you find happiness in whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” the young viscountess said sincerely. “You have such a wonderful life, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Violet,” she corrected. “Please, call me Violet.”

“Oh,” (Y/N)’s cheeks darkened. “Violet, then.”

“We are friends now, after all,” Violet smiled kindly, the kind of smile only a mother possessed. She waved for the tea to be replaced, a butler practically rushed to fulfill the viscountess’ request. “More tea?”

“I would love some more,” (Y/N) said, feeling lighter than air. Perhaps having a friend was a good step forward, a leap into the right direction.

The door to the drawing room slammed open.

“Mother, I just received our balance from the modiste and—”

Much like he owned the place—and in a way, he did—Lord Bridgerton took command of the less-than-quaint room and had all eye on him. His own eyes—his brown eyes—were trained solely on the widow sitting beside his mother, his mouth agape.

“Oh Anthony, you cannot just barge in here,” Violet scolded, “we have a guest.”

“I see that,” he seethed, shoving his hands behind his back in faux-decorum. “Lady Barlow.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” she nodded stiffly, not bothering to raise from her seat.

He ignored her, turning swiftly to his mother instead. “May I have a word alone with our guest, Mother?”

Feeling the tension in the room rise, Violet sighed, giving into her son’s request. “I believe I should check on the governess, anyhow,” Violet said, rising from her seated position. “Behave.”

Anthony brushed his mother’s whispered warning off, tilting his head to the staff, all leaving the room at his command. The door had barely clicked shut before he stepped forward. “Since when are you friends with my mother?”

“Since when do you care about who I spend my time with?”

“Since that company is my mother,” he said cooly. “I would have thought you were just so turned off by the Bridgerton name that you would ignore all of my family—”

“She is a nice woman,” (Y/N) rose, crossing her arms. “How you managed to turn out the way you have despite that is beyond me.”

“You are in my home,” Anthony pointed. “You insult my character and you dare try to befriend my mother?”

“Dare?” She laughed. “Am I not allowed to have friends?”

“Not with my mother,” he stepped towards her.

“Your mother,” she smiled forcefully, “Violet, has been nothing but kind to me today. She was merely looking out for me—offered me some good advice.”

“Advice?” He laughed. “On what planet could someone many years your senior offer you helpful advice?”

“You could not settle with just insulting me, so you had to insult your own mother? She is not yet elderly—”

“Yet she is older than you,” he corrected, his cheeks pink from his mistake. “Do you not have friends your own age?”

“Do you not have something better to do?”

He huffed, squeezing his wrist in restraint. “I came here to speak with my mother—”

“Yet you shooed her out of the room and decided to speak to me instead,” she countered, stepping closer. “To insult me? To threaten me? Whichever, I suppose, I will never understand. I decided to take tea with Lady Bridgerton because she offered it—offered advice on being a widow, something you have already known about me.”

“I wouldn’t wish for her to hear our conversation, besides, her advice could not have been that helpful,” Anthony snorted. “My parents were in love, her trials of being a widow pales in comparison to your situation—”

“The one in which I also lost a husband? The sole definition of being a widow?” She said, her arms tight against her chest. “That situation?”

The grand clock—that damned grand clock—chimed in the uncomfortable silence, a new hour beginning.

“I may not have loved Lord Barlow,” she admitted. “He may not even have been a friend to me, but I still am a lady who has lost her husband—a lady who has so much as lost her way in this fucked world, a world where a woman cannot simply be without one. Your mother was simply being kind.”

“I did not mean…” Anthony’s posture softened, even just a bit, words caught in his throat.

“But you did,” she pointed. “If you hadn’t meant it, you wouldn’t have said it. My, Lord Bridgerton, you certainly have a way with words, much like you always have, it seems.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She looked at the clock. “I must take my leave. I am expected to be back home soon, the estate certainly cannot run itself, seeing as my husband,” she nearly spat the word, “has left it to my care. What a thoughtful man he was.”

“I—Lady Barlow,” Anthony started, unsure of where he was going with it. “Please accept my apologies.”

“Keep them,” she smiled. “They are nearly as useless as you are. Excuse me.” Lady Barlow opened the door with haste, nodding to the staff members who were waiting outside. Her lady’s maid, Meg, followed only a few steps behind her, her attention caught on the wounded viscount in blue.

Anthony practically dissolved into the arm chair, unsure of what to do next. He had half a mind to go to his study to drink, to pour over the invoices that had him enter this room in the first place. His interactions with Lady Barlow usually left him buzzing, his blood boiling and his ego only partially wounded. How he was left feeling so defeated was beyond him.

“A way with words?” He mumbled to himself. “I never wish to understand that woman.”

Yet, a part of him nearly screamed the opposite.

How peculiar.

—

Roses and Regrets Tag List:

@creative-heart , @sunshineangel-reads

want to be added to my taglist? comment below!

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagines #x reader #oopsies #didn't expect to write some steamy bits already in chapter 2 but oh well!! reader is pent up i guess

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amberfoxerotica · 1 year

Text

Something stirred under the table, concealed beneath the long tablecloth. A slimy streak ran along my ankle, the touch soft and wet. A sigh left my lips at the delicate touch.

“I see. So your tentacles are good for a great many things then.” The tentacle stroked up my calf in response.

I looked deep into the tentacle monster’s eye as I traced a finger around the rim of my wine glass. Sexual undercurrents were clear in the tentacle monster’s penetrating gaze. We shared this moment, heightened by the secret, sensual touch hidden from everyone else.

We continued sipping at our wine, our eyes locked, sparks of desire flying between us. The tentacle smeared up my knee, then up my thigh. Another tentacle joined the first, slipping under my dress and pulling my moistened panties from my arousal-soaked pussy. I sucked in a breath as the first tentacle brushed up my slit, turning my body hot with desire.

“Two strawberry tarts,” a voice said, causing me to jolt in my seat and the tentacle monster to pause its advances. Our waitress had returned.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said as she lay two plates on the table.

“Oh! That’s quite alright,” I replied. “Thank you. The tarts smell delicious.”

“Enjoy them,” the waitress said before departing.

I looked down at the tarts. They were still fresh from the oven and decorated with strawberries. “Something tells me you really like strawberries,” I teased. The tentacle monster reciprocated by spreading my pussy lips and, at a glacial pace, gliding an oozing tentacle into me. “I’ll take that as a ye–ess…” I said, my eyes sinking closed as the slimy penetration slowly overwhelmed me.

-----

This is an excerpt. Get the full story here

🌐 www.amberfoxerotica.com

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nenayaquisieras · 2 months

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The guys teasing medium!reader when they see scratch marks on her back thinking she was getting it on with someone last night but in reality she was fighting demons.

Literally.

#medium!reader #let me write this bc its funny #but like srs she was fighting demons around 3 #woke up with scratches on her back #and the guys think she was getting steamy #but no she was getting cooked by demonic entities all night LMAOA #141 x reader

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aratilightwood · 1 year

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So James and Cordelia really are that Herondale couple who have sex for the first time in a normal place, with no interruptions from a Mr Bane.

#chain of thorns spoilers #chot spoilers #cot spoilers #cassandra clare #the shadowhunter chronicles #the last hours #chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #jamesxcordelia #jordelia #not to mention this is the first time cc included a steamy bathtub scene #and the fact that they go at it three times before an important meeting the next day #though i was expecting cc to write the moment where they draw the second wedded union rune #*sigh*

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lexithwrites · 1 month

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“I’m your boy, right Moony?”

Sirius whispered, pouting a little as he ran his finger down Remus’ cheek, then his throat, then his chest. Remus didn’t dare move. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but his body gave away how much he wanted this too. He just liked Sirius making him desperate for it.

When his finger switched to his palm running across his abdomen and down to the bulge in his sweats, Remus’ hips rocked forward on their own and he exhaled. Sirius grinned. “And your boy wants to play.”

#steamy wolfstar bevause I love them #the marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #lexith writes

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tricoufamily · 1 year

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he's too hot to be called greg. you gotta call him gregory

#tbh i have never paid one ounce of attention to the werewolves why did no one tell me greg's human form was a large old man in a suit #i assumed he was just some boring looking young adult in a flannel #we could have all been writing steamy vladgreg fanfiction this whole #i thought i could makeover his werewolf form too. hubris describes a personality quality of extr #i was like i can't believe there's literally no alpha werewolf horror cc that makes them look actually scary how have we not done this #like ohhhhhhh i see they're literally unfixable got it never mind #ts4 #ts4 cas #the sims 4 #townie makeover #does he have a tag?? what would it even be hashtag greg

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teecupangel · 2 months

Note

Just found your giodesmari ask and I just NEED to hear this happy ending where Giovanni and Maria successfully court Desmond back into their bed (and heart) and that they fall even more for Desmond when they see how competent an Assassin he is. (Definitely makes Maria hot and bothered knowing Desmond allows her to tie him up and that he could still get out of it if he wanted to)

The Giovanni/Maria/Desmond idea and its mini sequel for those curious.

Ngl, we were milking the angst because that’s how we roll so… uuhh… have this?

“I liked it better when they weren’t together.”

“That’s a lie.”

“No. It’s the most honest truth I have ever said in my entire life.”

“Don’t you want your parents to be happy?”

Machiavelli immediately raised his hands in surrender when Claudia turned to glare at him.

“All I’m saying is that your words might be mistaken as…” Machiavelli lowered his hands cautiously, ready to raise them once more if his mentor’s dear daughter decided to make use of one of her throwing knives to purposely miss his neck by a centimeter, “… being against your parents’ love life.”

“They’re the worst.” Claudia complained with a groan, “They’re all so… so… loving and happy and…”

Claudia covered her face as she let out a muffled scream.

Machiavelli simply let her do what she wanted. It wasn’t like he could do anything else.

She said something muffled by her hands but Machiavelli had been trained by Desmond himself. He knew what she was trying to say.

And he simply stared at Claudia as he dryly stated, “Of course I would rather not hear about their nightly activities. I would have appreciated it if you hadn’t told me how my mentor is quite vocal during those activities.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he added in a tone that could not hide his annoyance, “But I don’t have to hear about them to know about them. They were not truly being prudent in hiding the marks they left on the mentor’s body, after all.”

“Right?!” Claudia lowered her hands as she complained, “They’re the worst!”

“Yes.” Machiavelli agreed blandly, “The absolute worst.”

Absolutely the worst part of this entire thing was that he could no longer deny that he had become Claudia Auditore’s best friend in commiserating his mentor’s love life.

#i know you wanted the hot steamy happy smut #but i want the kids to suffer XD #no usual tag because #giodesmari #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

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the-illiterate-pirate · 1 year

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Seducing La Squadra ♡ (Suggestive)

This one's for my babygirl @jojowifey 😘 hi sorry if these are a little half-assed it's sleepy tired hours. Not including Sorb and Gel this time around because tbh I don't really see them being into getting hit on at the bar? I mean they're a couple why would you want to hit on them ANYWAY-

#7– Formaggio

•Easiest to seduce into taking home... My guy's a horndog. Some nights you wouldn't even need to try, just give him a flirty wink and you're set. Desperate much? Maybe, just a little... Can you blame him? Being in the Mafia is stressful stuff. Other nights, just be confident, offer him a drink, tell him how sexy he looks, he'll be falling in love on the spot.

#6– Prosciutto

•You could not believe the stress this man is under even if you tried. The only reason you'd find him at a bar is to relax, with a drink or with a lucky lady. He has more dignity than Formaggio though, and will take his time getting to know you. But he's still a needy man, and he loves a woman who takes charge; sit in his lap, feel him up, tell him how you feel. How can he refuse?

#5– Melone

•Similar level to Maggi, but you need some more umpf trying to get him to leave the bar. Melone is all for flirting it up with you in public though, so have your fun. He's also a sucker for light touches. Hands ghosting up his arms, playing with his hair. It drives him wild, and he'd love to feel more of you. Teasing him is a sure fire way to leaving the bar with him.

#4– Illuso

•Attention, attention, attention. Make him feel noticed. Compliment his appearance, compliment him, his dick will go flying off. But seriously, you may call it narcissism, but 'Luso doesn't get as much attention as you'd expect :( just treat him good, and you're set. He isn't as easy as the rest, but after some getting to know you, he'll feel comfortable enough to take you home, and maybe more ;3

#3– Risotto

•Similar to Prosciutto, Risotto doesn't go out much unless it's to relax. The best way to get along with Risotto is to get to know him, and help him unwind first, maybe some light drinks could help. It takes some time, but if you're patient you'll get to see a new side of him, something softer, and a little more flirty. You might not get a ride home on the first night, but Risotto wouldn't mind slipping you a private phone number if you want to try a second go.

#2– Ghiaccio

•Ghia isn't all hard headedness, he's a young adult who's easy to fluster. But too much teasing will make him upset. Tread lightly at first, get to know him deep down before you shoot your shot. At some point you'll be able to joke with him without problem, but full on flirting? This boy will short circuit. It may be cute, but don't dote on him too hard. Trying to seduce Ghia is 50/50, depending on his mood you may be able to leave with him, or it may end in just light hearted flirting.

#1– Pesci

•Oh boy oh boy. Pesci is the hardest to seduce. Not because he isn't in to it, but my boy can be a little... Dense. And being headstrong there's the chance he'll freeze up and get turned off to the whole experience. Pesci really isn't into one night stands or the like, and would much rather prefer something more steady, if that's what you're into. You might not leave that night with him on your arm, but you could leave with a number, and a lil kiss on the hand.

#btw tell me if you want me to stop using babygirl i feel like I've been using it a lot lately #steamy writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba #golden wind #risotto nero x reader #ghiaccio x reader #melone x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #illuso x reader #formaggio x reader #la squadra #la squadra x reader #jjba headcanons

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mrs-bluemarine · 1 year

Text

All Night Long

It's MY anniversary, and I get to post WHATEVER I WANT

Cut for NSFW content

"Do you want the full Bluemarine package, Sweetness?"

She took one sweeping look across his bare body. The back shirt he was wearing was pulled up to his neck, exposing everything; his chest, his soft stomach, every knick and scar accumulating on his perfect, pale skin. Her ocean blue eye took into account every little detail about her boyfriend. Including the sizable lump hidden in his boxers.

He said something. She had to peel her eye away from the mouth watering treat before her.

"Yes, sir."

"Then get over here."

Suffice to say the way she clambered on to Wes' lap wasn't the most elegant. Neither of them minded. She was cautious of his crotch, and the cold metal of his right leg, but she did it with ease. Her hands slid against his skin to feel the bumps and grooves in his body, traveling behind his head. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she coddled his face close, purring in a seductive tone. "My... All of this, for little me?"

"Every single inch." Wes breathed. His nose brushed against hers as he spoke, tempting her so. But she must be patient. Good things come to those who wait.

She caressed his face more, starring into his beautiful icy eyes as he watched her's. His hands found her waist, drifting lower to squeeze the meat of her thighs with his big hands. Her lips never found his, instead they moved against everything but. She decorated his face in gentle kisses, leaving a trail of blue lipstick where she went. She loved every inch of his face, to his pointy nose and his pale cheeks, running red with blush, down to his thick neck, where she bit and sucked her mark of love for all to see. Wes would let her have her fun, just this once. He would let his love do unto him as she pleased.

She pulled away from his neck with a pop. An uncertain eye didn't meet his, as her finger ran circles into his right pectoral. "...Are you sure you want to do this? I know you wanted to wait till our wedding night... This feels, wrong, somehow."

Wes pulled her closer, cupping her neck and appeasing her with light pecks from his lips. "I'm sure. I think I've kept you waiting long enough, right?" A new, foreign feeling. His fingers playing with the lace of her special panties, bought just for the occasion. His touch so close to her nether regions stirred the familiar vibration of unsure excitement. He made her feel giddy, like she was a kid again. Except that constant ache in her back was a friendly reminder that she was anything but, but that meant she could do even funner things with the love of her life.

Wes kissed the skin of her ear, "I'll plan something extra special for our honeymoon, instead." God, that voice. It was music in her ear. Just the simplest phrase sent the hair on the back of her neck shooting up. Her lips turned up into an evil smirk.

"Wes~, you little flirt." She sang in his ear, as her hands flew up to his shoulders, pinning him down quickly to the mattress with a grunt. Wes looked up helplessly at his girlfriend, bathed in the orange light of the nightstand lamp, sitting above him, looking like the Greek goddess she was. "If that's the case... I'll have to enjoy you to the fullest."

His black shirt was ripped up to his chin again. Her lips were against his chest, pressing opened mouth kisses into his skin where she went. The digits of her fingers played with the skin above his briefs, a faint tickling sensation made Wes' left leg twitch in anticipation. An electrical feeling was in his veins, he felt it in everything.

"Go easy on me." It was worth a shot. He was ready for anything headed his way, but something in his gut told Wes he would be waking up with a bruised hip.

She pretended to mull it over, the blonde rolling her eye, one of the hands not holding her body up was gently pawing at the evident lump between his thighs while she hummed.

"Hm... I'll consider it."

#steamy writing #💙 / Feels Like I'm in Love Again #fics #selfship community #selfship content #selfship fic

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tortoisebore · 5 months

Note

please please can we get a post of remus calling sirius baby for the first time bc im obsessed and want to know every detail about sirius’ outfit and how it went down

YES YES YES 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹

Remus was too drunk for this. Well—maybe drunk was the wrong word. His blood alcohol level was probably still somewhere in the realm of tipsy, but his brain was sluggish. Slow-moving. A disastrous combination of desire and want and pure, unadulterated filth. His limbs felt heavy and too-long as he stood slouched against the wall, gripping an empty glass hard enough to be absently worried it would shatter in his hand. Watching. Lily had described the place as a bar but it felt more like a club, all low, colorful lights and blaring music, an open space in the middle of the room and tall tables lining the walls. It was loud, Remus was just on the drunk side of tipsy, and Sirius was a fucking dream.

All things considered, Remus had done a really great job of being normal up until an hour or so ago. He hadn’t lost his shit when Sirius appeared at his door in a giant gray coat with his hair up, tied messily off his neck, fully flaunting the faint bruise Remus had left below his ear two days before. That damn glitter was on his eyes again, catching the light and working in tandem with the faint smudgy black lining his lashes to make his eyes look less gray and more glowing, molten silver. Remus had nearly fallen to his knees, had nearly said 'fuck it' and yanked Sirius inside instead of following through with the going out plan, but he’d been very regular about it—just choked out a simple little ‘you look nice,’ swallowing hard when Sirius smiled sweetly and took his hand as they traipsed down the stairs and out of the building.

Then they’d arrived at the bar, and Sirius had slipped his coat off, and Remus’ poor, piece of shit brain had immediately broken.

So now here he was, fighting for his life standing around a table in the corner, unable to wrench his eyes away from the three-inch strip of bare skin on Sirius’ stomach while he waited for drinks at the bar. He was wearing a short, black tee shirt with an open back over some see-through, lacy thing that hugged his waist, showing off the tail end of the dagger tattoo on his stomach and the beginnings of the vines on his hips before they disappeared beneath straight-legged black pants that fit so perfectly Remus could have cried. He was leaned up against the bar artfully, tapping the toe of his platform boot against the floor, chatting idly with Marlene while they waited for the bartender.

Remus thought he might be drooling.

Sirius had been flitting between the bar and the dance floor and their table in the corner all night, leaving Remus with a never-ending supply of drinks and all these evil, lingering touches, whispers near his ear disguised as kisses on his cheek that twisted his gut and made his fingers itch to touch and grab and hold. This thing between them was still new, only a couple weeks old, and Remus was really really trying to reign himself in, but god, he wanted to touch. Wanted to bite and lick and taste, felt drunk on desire more than liquor by the time Sirius came back with two more neon-colored drinks in sweaty glasses.

“Yours,” he chirped over the music, finally, finally sliding in close and depositing Remus’ drink on the sticky tabletop. Remus eyed him as he sipped at his straw, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. It was blatantly obvious that Sirius knew exactly what he was doing, and that it was working. Remus glanced around, watched Marlene saunter off to join Dorcas across the room, and slipped a hand around Sirius’ waist, backing himself into the wall and pulling Sirius with him.

“You look…” he started, shamelessly trailing his eyes down and then back up Sirius’ frame, shaking his head with a sigh when every word he could think of fell short of the actual ethereal being currently pressed up against him.

“I look what?” Sirius prodded, sliding his drink onto the table without looking, snaking his arms up Remus’ chest and around his shoulders, a smug, sly sort of smile tugging at his stained, cherry-red lips.

Remus was too fucking drunk for this.

He managed to get a hand to Sirius’ jaw, tipping his head back just enough to brush their lips together, reveling in the hitched breath it pulled from his throat.

“You look fucking perfect,” he muttered, letting Sirius lean in only to pull back. Remus’ vision was swirling, heart thundering in his chest when Sirius gave a quiet little whine of complaint, dragging blunt nails across the back of his neck. Remus gave in, let him press a too-short, too-soft kiss to his lips before tilting Sirius’ head to the side, mouthing down his jaw to get at that faint little bruise beneath his ear and nipping at it softly, eyes fluttering closed at the taste of his skin, speaking before he could think. “You’re killing me over here, baby.”

Fuck—his stomach dropped instantly. He’d never said that before, never used any kind of pet name for Sirius at all, and it felt foreign in his mouth, foreign to his ears, settled badly in his stomach when Sirius let out a sharp exhale and reeled back. Remus was prepared to pretend it had never happened, maybe blame it on those neon colored drinks that kept appearing in his hands—but the words died on his tongue.

Sirius’ eyes were wide, flicking back and forth fast between his own, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Remus waited, watched Sirius look down at his lips and then back up, and barely heard him breathe, “Say it again,” over the music.

He hesitated, studied Sirius’ face carefully to make sure he wasn’t reading it all wrong, and teased, “You’re killing me over here?”

Sirius shook his head, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The other thing.”

“What?” Remus asked, dragging a thumb down his jaw, the desire to sink through the floor disappearing into thin air as he watched Sirius’ pupils dilate, felt his fingers trip up to tug at his hair. “Baby?”

Sirius nodded, pulling him in close and speaking low. “Yeah,” he smiled, “that one.”

Remus kissed him, had to, pulled him in with two hands on the side of his neck and bit at his lower lip, tasted artificial cherry and vodka and felt his stomach drop when Sirius gave a sweet little whine, pulling back just enough to speak.

“Again,” he whispered, melting further into Remus’ chest, looking up at him with that smug little grin that made his heart stutter.

“Baby,” Remus repeated, kissing him again, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, brain working overdrive, whirring loud in his ears. “My perfect, pretty baby.”

Sirius let loose a string of colorful curses that made Remus laugh before he was pulled in again. Sirius was seemingly entirely finished with teasing—kissed him hard and bit at his lip and slid his hands heavily back down his chest. He pulled away after several long moments, a deep flush staining his cheeks, and gave Remus a look.

“Don’t drink anymore,” he ordered, a secret sort of smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Remus’ skin tingled, heat racing down his spine.

“No?” he smirked, instantly grabbing for Sirius’ hand to keep him close when he stepped back.

“No.” He reached across the table and grabbed an abandoned water on the other side—James’, most likely—sipping at it instead of the bright red drink he’d just brought over. "We should go to yours after this."

Remus was very, very on board with that.

The Outfit™️

#u ask tortoise answers #hey sharpshooter rambles #i didn't mean for this to get steamy they just did what they wanted #sirius wears alexander mcqueen on casual nights out it's just who he is #remus showed up in jeans and a white t-shirt bc that's just who he is #in the current chapter im writing he's wearing the same thing bc they're going out in ny and sirius told him to #sirius has a thing for remus in a white t-shirt #for reasons we will come to discover #he's so real

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