#I missed your art and your fic and your gif sets and your passion and the love around here!

[you-are-so-much-better-than-that]

[highwayorgantrade]

As Long As You're There

Pairing: Reader x Carlisle Cullen

Request: "can u do more carlisle fics hehe i read art history and it was so cute help:)) love ur writing!" by @sofire-k

Spotify Playlist: Record Store

Summary: Small business owner just opened a store in Forks!

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Surprise: None! Not even cursing!

Author's note:

LITERALLY SHUTUP I'm so in love with you please gimme a kiss. Okay so listen I know people want me to make a part 2 to Art History and Live A Little but I have to get out my gratuitous bs!! This one is def. more of a slow burn that I might continue, but this fandom is horny as hell and I swear I will be indulging soon!

Alice's vision came to her a week before he met you, and her and Edward debated for days on whether they should tell Carlisle or not.

"But they should meet organically, you shouldn't force anything." Edward griped at Alice in the living room, their siblings watching in entertainment.

"It's not forcing, Edward, it's warning. Have you ever seen him talk to a woman romantically?"

Edward thought about it, and he hadn't. Of course, he heard the thoughts of Carlisle's coworkers when visiting his father at the hospital, but to Carlisle, they had largely gone unnoticed or ignored.

"No. Have you?"

"Exactly!" Alice exclaimed, and she turned to Rosalie. "And the way that they meet is just so cute!"

"Alice, I'm sorry," Rosalie laughed, gesturing to Edward. "I'm on his side for this one. If they're supposed to spend eternity together, what's some time letting them find each other?"

"Alice, I will tell you right now, that Jasper and Emmett are on your side." Edward groaned, running a hand through his hair. Rosalie turned to Emmett and raised an eyebrow, challenging him to go against her.

"Well, I do agree with Alice, but since the both of you are terrifying, what about a compromise?" Emmett suggested, patting his mate's leg gently.

And so they decided not to tell him, rather lead him in the right direction. And the right direction was to a new record store in Forks.

You ran a hand through your hair as you took one last look at the store. Everything was clean, organized logically... What was missing? Okay, all the lights were turned on, and the comfortable, warm glow eased your worries a bit. The quietness of the building made you uneasy, despite the sign on the door reading, "Closed!"

Almost subconsciously, you smack your forehead. It's quiet! There's supposed to be music in a music store! You flipped the sign, and rushed to your phone. In your anxiousness of opening this store, it was only natural for you to spend weeks curating the perfect playlist.

"Alice, I don't understand. If you want something so badly from this store, why can't you go?" Carlisle was exasperated, as Alice had been begging him all week to go to some new store that had opened in town.

"Can you please just stop by and see if they have it! I don't want to waste my time." Edward stifled a smile at her desperation, her mind still coming up with reasons as to why she couldn't go.

"Alice." Carlisle placed his hand on her shoulder, to calm her. "You seem very passionate about this, so I will go and look." He shrugged on a coat, and grabbed his car keys. "I want a tune-up on my car by Monday!" He called behind him, and set out to find this record.

"I hope you have a good day!" You called out the door, giddy that business seemed to be going well. Honestly, you expected it to be super dead, but apparently, the people of Forks desperately needed music, and you made a mental note to buy more guitars for the next shipment.

"Hello?" You heard a voice calling as the door swung open. You looked up from your computer to see a blonde man stepping in, looking mildly confused. Wow. Okay. Yikes. This man certainly didn't look like the rest of your customers, all indie high schoolers or alternative twenty-somethings, but still, the sight of him made you forget how to breathe for just a second.

"Hey!" You tucked your loose hair behind your ear, and smiled, trying not make your fascination for him obvious. "Looking for anything specific?"

He smiled back at you, and glanced around your store.

"Yes, my daughter sent me here to get an album for her, could you help me?"

"Absolutely! Do you know the name of the album?"

"I think it's called... To The Fire? Away From The Fire? The band name is kind of German sounding." He realized how little information Alice gave him about what exactly she wanted, and sighed.

"Could it be From The Fires by Greta Van Fleet?" You raised an eyebrow, and gestured for him to follow you. "Would you recognize it by the art?" You were absolutely dedicated to do whatever it would take for him to keep coming back, and your customer service voice was working overtime. He nodded, and followed you into a corner, the entire section labeled 'Rock.' "Your daughter has good taste, Greta Van Fleet is one of my personal favorites." You flipped through the albums until you found the one you wanted.

You held it up to him, and you could tell he recognized the picture.

"Yes, that's exactly it. You're very good at what you do."

He couldn't help but stare at her. There was something about her, something in her that he could feel himself drawn to. The shop had a pleasant vanilla smell, but the scent of her blood was calling him more than anything.

"What kind of music do you like?" Your voice cut through the silence, trying to contain yourself in the wake of his praise. He seemed taken aback by your question, like nobody had ever asked him before.

"I'm more into classical music. Tchaikovsky, Chopin-"

"Vivaldi?" You questioned, walking behind your counter and sliding the record into a bag. A slight smile cracked on his face, and he cocked his head.

"I love Vivaldi."

"He goes hard." You grinned, and glanced at your register, already inputting a steep discount. If you could have any loyal customer here, it would have to be whoever this guy is.

"You've been such an amazing help, what's your name?" He handed you $20, and you could barely focus on counting his change right. Stop acting stupid! Focus!

"My name's (y/n). Yours?" When he took the bag, he didn't look like he was making any effort to leave.

"My name's Carlisle."

"Well, Carlisle, if that's not the album your daughter wanted, you can always come back and exchange it for the right one." You leaned against the counter, and the way that Carlisle followed your movement made you fight a smile. "And if she's interested, I have live music on Fridays. It might help get her down here herself." He laughed at your suggestion, and turned to leave. Carlisle hesitated in opening the door, and gave you one final smile as he exited.

As soon as the cool air hit his lungs, he inhaled deeply, clearing the scent of you out of him. It dizzying to him, to where he almost felt drunk. He stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk, the thought finally crossing his mind. That's why Alice sent him here. This woman was his blood singer. He heard Aro talk about it multiple times during his time in the Volturi, but after centuries of not experiencing that level of desire, he simply believed it didn't exist. Not for him, at least. He pulled out his phone, and quickly shot a text to Alice, a grin breaking out on his face.

C: You could have just told me. Carlisle spun on his track, knowing what he had to do, and his phone vibrated.

A: Blame Edward.

As soon as you forced him out of your mind, you heard the door open again. You looked up to see Carlisle, and you mentally groaned. Looks like he's going to be in your thoughts all day.

"Do I need to brush up on my music identification skills?"

"Would you like to have dinner?"

You spoke at the same time, but his voice dwarfed yours, and you raised your eyebrows. Did he just ask you to dinner? Your brain was completely blank, completely surprised by his question. Your eyebrows knit together, and you waited for him to change his mind. Or to tell you it was a joke.

"Uh, yes, I would." You scrambled to find a pen and a receipt slip that you could write your phone number on, and you rolled your eyes at the slight shaking in your hands.

"We don't have to go to dinner." Carlisle added. "We could go on a hike, I could show you around Forks, anything. Whatever you want, as long as you're there." The glint in his eyes was mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but smile.

"It sounds like you've got it all figured out."

"I sure hope I do."

[radiowallet]

I posted 6,280 times in 2022

That's 265 more posts than 2021!

1,428 posts created (23%)

4,852 posts reblogged (77%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jazzelsaur

@radiowallet

@astroboots

@magpie-to-the-morning

@the-ginger-hedge-witch

I tagged 5,841 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#cat replies - 1,186 posts

#cat reads - 941 posts

#fic rec - 698 posts

#cat answers - 621 posts

#marcus moreno fic - 536 posts

#nice people say nice things - 525 posts

#marcus moreno - 410 posts

#lovely inbox message - 352 posts

#art rec - 280 posts

#dieter bravo fic - 251 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#maybe she gives him a back massage but he can feel the toy catching on his backside and by the time she starts he’s a quivering mess

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Not Bored

Summary: Javi and you spend a quiet night together watching a movie and your restlessness distracts Javi in the best way possible. WC: 2.9K Pairing: Javi G. x Female!Reader (established relationship) Warnings: 18+ Minors be gone! Unprotected sex, cock warming, edging, dirty talk, dirty talk, praising. A/N: No beta for this one. It goes into battle without fear! BUT big thanks to @jazzelsaur @magpie-to-the-morning and @write-and-buried who I definitely tortured in the DM's by sending bits and pieces of this too as I was writing it.

Masterlist

You are bored. 

You don’t even remember what this movie is supposed to be about; all you know is that Javi promised it would change your life. A promise he makes regularly but you never complain or dispute. He usually always makes just the right choice, having nailed down your tastes with amazing accuracy and dedicated passion.

No matter the genre, the pictures playing out in front of you are always able to keep both of you glued to the screen, but tonight is different. You’re restless, fidgety, having lost the plot thread 10 minutes in. The dialogue is stilted, the opening scene stretching on much too long, and Javi is sitting next to you in lime green sweatpants looking far better than he has any right to. 

Lime green.

And doing nothing to hide the size of him. 

He notices your wandering eye almost right away, one thick finger touching your chin gently, moving your head back in the direction of the television. 

“You are missing important lines, mi flor.” 

You stifle a sigh and turn back to the movie, only pouting a little bit when the warmth of Javi’s finger leaves your skin, but it doesn’t go far, trailing a slow path down your shoulder to rest on the curve of your hip. He’s already focused back on the screen, his lips moving along silently with the actors, his breath tickling in your ear, and you can’t help but shiver from his gentle touch. You do your very best, Javi’s enthusiasm for the story bleeding into your mood, but only barely, and soon enough you're fidgeting in your seat again, restless fingers finding the meat of Javi’s thighs. 

“Mi floooor,” he warns one more time, but he doesn’t stop you, instead spreading his legs a little wider. You know he’s baiting you, setting a trap meant to punish you for your lost focus. It doesn’t stop you. In fact you feel emboldened; you’re happy to be swept up in one of Javi’s games, knowing he means it in only the most joyful ways and that in the end you’ll both win. You let the tip of your index finger go up, carving a path around the outline of his cock, already half hard from your teasing touch. 

You make two more passes before giving up all pretense of watching the movie. On the third trip up and around the full length of him, you look down, content to watch the shape of him grow thicker.  When you reach the tip, you circle it with a little bit more pressure, licking your lips as a small wet spot appears in the bright green fabric. 

You hear Javi whine above you, needy and sweet, and you double your efforts, letting the palm of your hand rub at his cock, his thighs trembling from the sudden increase in pleasure. You let your lips fall to his shoulder, eternally grateful he skipped a shirt after the two of you rinsed the pool water off together, giving you the opportunity to press soft kisses into each freckle that tattoos his golden skin. 

You think maybe this is how you’ll finish your night, slowly working Javi towards release as he watches what is supposedly a fantastic movie. You’d be more than happy to, no one more deserving of a night like that than Javi Gutierrez. You’re just about to slip your hand beneath the waistband of his sweats when both of his hands find your waist, fingers digging with enough strength to bruise. With little flourish he’s yanking at your leggings, pulling until they’re wrapped around your thighs, your underwear tangled up with them. You want to ask for an explanation but Javi is one step ahead of you, pulling out his cock– hard and leaking– and then suddenly you’re in his lap, your back pressed to his chest and the entire length of him is splitting up inside you. 

The cry you let out is strangled, a mix of pain bleeding bright into pleasure as Javi’s girth stretches you open. He thrusts up inside you once, the angle shooting stars into your vision, and then he’s settling back into the couch, his hands holding you firmly in place against the hard planes of his chest. 

“This is okay?” His question is whispered, voice sweet, apologetic.

You breathe out a “yes” knowing he needs to hear you say it.

“Now,” he chides, voice rising in volume, teeth nipping at your ear, “you will focus, little flower and watch this movie with me, sì?”

You mewl pathetically, realization slipping cold down your back to mix with the hot waves of arousal swimming in your belly. Javi’s intent is clear; he plans to keep you here, his cock sitting heavy inside your pussy, refusing to move until the last of the credits roll across the screen. You try once to shift your hips back, but his grip is like iron, fingers digging into you, holding you firmly in place. Another moan falls out of you, louder this time and Javi tuts in your ear.

“We will have to rewind a few minutes. We must not miss key elements.”

And then he does just that, one hand fumbling for the remote, rewinding the movie back two full minutes, his lips pressed firmly to the spot behind your ear, his eyes focused on the television screen. You feel another little wave of pleasure rip through you at his firm tone, but you trap it as best you can, teeth digging into your bottom lip. It feels filthy in the best ways, your legs stretched open, thighs falling on either side of Javi’s, your lower half on display to the empty theater room, slick arousal leaking out of you. 

You can feel it sliding out around Javi’s cock, dripping down your legs to the couch below. You want to be embarrassed but you can’t find the strength, your body lost to the feeling of him inside you, your mind heavy with the fog of JaviJaviJavi. Every inch of him is pulsing inside of you and the thought has you delirious. Your skin is on fire, and you're hungry for more, wishing you could shift your hips in search of relief. Your blood is humming with that delicious spark of pleasure, the kind that starts in your stomach slowly unfurls until everything is too bright, too loud, too everything.

You make one more pitiful effort to move your hips back, searching for friction but Javi only holds you tighter, teeth nipping at your ear as he growls, rewinding the movie yet again. You choke back a sob, willing your body to settle against his chest, your fingers clawing at the soft blanket that has pooled uselessly around you. This seems to appease Javi for the time being, his hands loosening slightly around the curve of your hips, petting at your thighs with the pads of his fingers, soothing the spot he scraped raw with a gentle kiss.  

“Good girl. Let us finish, and then I promise, I will take good care of you.” 

Your legs clench without warning at his praise, but you manage to stay silent, earning you one more kiss to your neck before Javi’s attention returns fully to the movie. You spend the next hour in a haze, stretched and full and needy, unable to focus on anything other than warm skin and strong hands. At some point you give up all pretense that you’re paying attention, burying your head into the curve of Javi’s shoulder, inhaling the smell of sweet red wine that seems to cling to him. You’ve never been more grateful that he leaves you be. He seems content to watch the rest of the film alone as he warms himself inside you and you’re content to let him. 

You can feel his breath coming in short puffs through his nose, his pulse picking up speed where your lips rest against his neck. You know you aren’t the only one affected and it gives you the smallest amount of satisfaction that Javi’s plan is backfiring just a tiny bit. One hand starts to drift from your waist up your ribcage, goosebumps peppering your sweat-damp skin. It’s a steady sweep up your torso and back down again, his touch going higher each time until finally he gives in to his own needs and cups your breast in one huge hand. 

You see your chance, a small one, knowing how much Javi loves to lose himself in your breasts. There had been nights that lasted well into the next day where hours upon hours were spent with his face pressed between them, nuzzling and sucking and kissing at the tender flesh until you were both desperate and begging for more. You turn your head just enough to find his ear, kissing gently between your words. 

“Wanna fuck my tits, sweet boy?”

He doesn’t answer you right away, his jaw ticking with a slight grunt, and you think maybe he’s considering your offer, but then there’s a sharp pinch to your pebbled nipple through the thin cotton of your shirt, drawing a cry from your lips, bringing your pleasure back into sharp focus. He chuckles in your ear, teasing and sweet, before once again reaching for the remote. You sob into his neck, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but Javi shushes you gently even as he rewinds the movie back another few minutes. 

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408 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

#4

Waves Crashing

Summary: Javi comes back from a day of work and needs help with a little stress relief.

WC: 3.5K

Pairing: Javi G. x Female!Reader (established relationship)

Warnings: 18+ Minors be gone! Unprotected sex, angry sex, oral sex (female receiving), squirting, fingering, slight choking, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, cum play. Filth. Straight filth.

Notes: Big thanks to @jazzelsaur who definitely deserves more than 50% of the credit for this. Her big beautiful talented brain spewed thot after thot into my DM's and my smol dumb brain just did its very best.

I am sorry, mi amor.

Your back stings from the cool scrape of the stucco where it prickles your skin, the sheer fabric of your dress slipping down your shoulders with each thrust Javi makes, exposing your breasts to the sun. Javi holds you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping at the curve of your hip, the hard length of his cock fucking up into the tight heat of your core. There had been little explanation past his apology, only growls of Spanish breathed into your neck as he took out all of his rage on the tender shape of your body.

You had been dozing on the balcony just off his main suite, a lunchtime swim and the late afternoon sun soothing your aching muscles after another night spent with Javi between your legs. There were loose plans for a movie and dinner later that evening, plans you were sure would lead you right back to his bedroom, with zero complaint from either of you. You only hoped you could convince him to let his eyes close a little earlier tonight. He had looked so tired when he left for his meeting, the bags beneath his eyes more pronounced, his shoulders stiff where you brushed away any invisible wrinkles, and you wanted nothing more than to soothe away his worries the way he so easily did for you.

It seems clear now, his hips slotted perfectly against your own, bruises forming beneath his iron grip, that Javi has different plans in mind.

“Hold tight to me. Mi amor, please. Please,” he chokes out, teeth scraping behind your ear, giving a particularly deep thrust up, pulling a whine from between your teeth. Your walls tighten at the tone in his voice, rage dripping from the timbre of his accent, a wave of arousal coating his cock where if fills you up. His curls are wild, sweaty and twisted, falling down in front of his eyes. You’re desperate to push them back but you don’t dare disobey, arms instead wrapping around the thick cord of his neck, lips panting against the heat of his skin.

Your trembling fingers tangle in the thin white of his tank top and you moan again, remembering the look on his face as he stripped off the dark blue button up he had been wearing when he left you this morning. You had thought the somber color had seemed so unlike your Javi, too dark, too imposing, as if he had been forced to wear the mask of someone else. He had ripped at the buttons, the fabric falling away from his body and exposing the swell of his biceps to the late day sun. His face had been twisted, barely contained frustration simmering below the surface, fists clenching around the open air, begging for release.

You were all too happy to help him.

“Use me, Javi. You can use me.”

A dam breaks at your words, the simmer rolling into a boil, burning hot and swallowing you whole. He surrounds you, covers you, fills you full as he takes, takes more and more of you, until you can only cling helplessly and let him rut into the tight folds of your cunt. Your legs grip tighter, the dig of his belt cutting at your flesh, but you lean into the pain, the friction fighting back against the slick of sweat that clings behind your knees.

One hand finds your throat, wrapping around it, but never squeezing tight, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. But you feel it, that unspoken strength, a threat never spoken that, if he wanted to, he could take so much more than he does. His other hand sneaks between your bodies, finding your clit and pushing down as hard as he can, his hips still slamming up as sharply as he can manage from the awkward angle. It’s sloppy and frantic, a jumble of words, English and Spanish falling out of him, and still you see stars, fireworks bursting bright in the sun-dipped daylight.

“I need you to come, mi amor. Come now.”

Again you listen, the command in his voice clear. This was an order, and your body does not disobey. Your walls tighten, your fingers digging into the skin beneath the thin white cotton, finding the heat of his skin still, as you come around his cock, soaking his length in a release that belongs to only him. You scream his name as he fucks you into your first orgasm, talking you through it, his breath hot in your ear.

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411 notes - Posted March 17, 2022

#3

Affection in Row 16

Summary: On your flight to Spain you have a run-in with an adorable stranger.

WC: 2.5K

Pairing: Javi G. x GN!Reader

Warnings: Cuteness overload, fluffy fluff, and sugary sweet fitting the day. A little bit of cursing. Drinking. A plane ride?

Notes: Another moment where my brain got away from me. I was on a plane and thought 'hey what would Javi G. be like in coach?' This is what popped out. First time writing him. Please be gentle.

He looks lost. A true achievement considering the two feet wide walkway between the rows of seats that seems to have the man in front of you completely flummoxed, One glance at him- designer sunglasses resting atop luscious waves of brown all the way down to his perfectly pressed sport coat to the Gucci loafers on his feet- and you know this is not a man who normally flies coach.

If ever.

He’s standing in the aisle, staring at his ticket like he’s waiting for it to tell him where to sit, and you can physically feel the anger of the line of people growing steadily behind you. You want to be one of those people too but his broad shoulders and tan skin have sapped any and all fire from your veins, sending that feeling closer towards something like affection. You distinctly hear the word “jackass” and decide it’s best to step in now before someone with more piss in their veins than you takes aim at the sweet, but confused looking man.

“Sir,” you call out, gently tapping at his elbow. He turns with a start looking around wildly before coffee brown eyes finally land on you. His lips are parted around an apology but you smile, cutting him off before he can get the words out.

“Do you need some help?”

He visibly deflates, matching your smile, and oh, his whole face lights up with it. A dimple carves out a perfect little spot on his cheek and you have to physically stop yourself from reaching out for the curve of his face.

“Please,” he asks, a wonderful accent to the timber of his voice. You take his offered ticket and point him to his seat, internally thrilling when you see his row matches your own. You guide him to the right row, only a few more back from where you started, and point him to his seat, the one in the middle.

“I take it you don’t fly coach a whole lot?”

He laughs, deep and sweet, a caramel coated sound that you’re instantly addicted too as he settles in, tucking his leather bag safely down by his feet. You take your time stowing your small duffle bag in the overhead bin, willing your heart rate to slow and the heat in your cheeks to dissipate. You’re about to be on a flight next to this man for hours and you don’t even know his name. A crush is not on the agenda for today.

“This is obvious, yes?”

“Only a little,” you can’t help but tease, liking the way the pink spreads across his features. Bag safely tucked away, you shift back and forth on your feet awkwardly, eyeing his large frame, his knees bumping right into the seat in front of him. You definitely don’t picture how warm that thigh would feel beneath-

“There is a problem?”

His confusion saves you from your traitorous thoughts. You point to the seat between him and the window.

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422 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#2

You Have Me

Summary: The Mandalorian always takes you from behind.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader

WC: 1K

Warnings: 18+ Minords DNI, Canonical type violence, Unprotected p in v sex, slight dom behavoir, dirty talk, yearning. Honestly this one feels pretty tame.

A/N: Just a small piece that's been sitting unfinished in my drafts for a few weeks now. I missed my tin can man and was having feelings about him and his touch-starved need for intimacy but not knowing how to let himself have it.

The Mandalorian always takes you from behind. 

Hard and fast, his hips snapping into you, the sharp cut of his armor cold and unforgiving where it digs into the curve of your ass. One hand holds tight to your waist, the other wrapped tight around the slope of your neck. You can smell dirt and blood mixing with the warm smell of leather, strong and masculine and digging into your flesh. It’s almost automated at this point, your aching cunt clenching at the slightest tickle of him along your senses. 

Some would probably be embarrassed at the slick of arousal he ignites at the base of your spine. 

You’re too preoccupied with feeling everything else. 

Every inch of you is stripped bare, your naked body exposed to the cold filtered air of the Crest’s hull. At first, it had been intimidating. The unforgiving emptiness of the mandalorian’s ship, crates of supplies shoved to the side, blasters marks marring the walls. Now you couldn’t turn an eye on one single square foot of it without remembering the exact way the Mandalorian had taken you. 

Always hard. Always fast. 

Always from behind. 

You had begged him for a ride off Nevarro last time he had stopped in. You had heard the rumors; that he was sullen, gruff, not a taxi service. And yes, he was all of those things, easily so, but he was also tender. Gentle in his own little ways; ways you had caught onto quickly when he reluctantly agreed to let you board his ship. 

A blanket left for you on the co-pilot's chair. 

A stockpile of ration bars made with real honey. 

One gloved hand brushing the small of your back, a crowded market parting in his wake. 

And every once in a while, as he said goodbye to you before setting off on a hunt, the Mandalorian would lean his helmet in, catching himself just before the steel made contact with your skin. 

It was subtle. Something done out of instinct. 

A move so small that you’re sure you would have missed it if you weren’t so hyper aware of him, him, always him. 

You stand there long after he’s gone, staring at the space he had just been, wondering what it would feel like if, for once, he didn’t stop. If he let himself have this one little moment he so clearly wanted. This one single touch he hungered for but would not allow himself to have. 

Would the beskar feel just as cold pressed into your forehead as it did your backside? Would it sting an icy bite or would it be something more gentle — A hand on the small of your back instead of wrapped around your throat. 

His body curls around you now, hard edges pressing into your soft folds. You arch, your body bowing up and away from the steel wall of the Crest, aching for him to be closer somehow, even as fucks you deep. He scrapes you raw from the inside out, filling you up with all he has.

A whine breaks free from your lips, a jagged, high-pitched sound that seems to slip through the fingers around your neck. You hear him chuckle behind you, and suddenly his voice is in your ear, modulated and cold but you swear you can feel something else. 

“What do you need, mesh’la? Tell me.”

You can’t form the words. Can barely think them as the Mandalorian pulls you apart thrust by thrust. 

“I… I need…”

“Do you need to come?”

Fuck. 

Of course — of course — you need to come, and he would never deny you, never leave you wanting for anything that his body could so easily give. But you’ve grown greedy, desperate, and suddenly it’s not just about you cresting over the waves of pleasure. 

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641 notes - Posted July 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

In Knots

Summary: Din shows you how good he is with his hands.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader

WC: 2.3K

Warnings: 18+ Minords DNI, Canonical type violence, Unprotected p in v sex, fingering, slight dom behavoir, slight bdsm, bondage, dirty talk, cursing, helmetless Din, and some minor joking about Star Wars.

A/N: Sometimes, my husband and I make really absurd jokes about Star Wars. Case in point- what if Din kept bounty hunting and just decided to strap his bounties to the front of his ship like a hunter does with deer? Then of course I share this joke with my dearest @astroboots and @jazzelsaur and then things instantly got slutty. Let me be clear, this doesn't happen without either of them. Please go tell both of them how amazingly talented they are. Also, funny enough, this is the first time I've written Din Djarin smut (outside of an AU) soooo, yeah. *hides*

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719 notes - Posted April 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[specialagentlokitty]

Remus x Daughter!reader - not right

Could I request a Remus Lupin x daughter reader fic please! Love your HP stuff! Could reader get detention with Umbridge for screaming at her for calling Rem a half breed. Then when Remus finds the scar he goes full protective papa. So sorry if that’s too much! Also how have you been?? - Anon 💜

The moment you saw her you hated her, the pink, the high pitched voice, the fake behaviour. You hated everything about Umbridge with a burning passion, and everyone knew.

As you were walking down the hallway with your friends, you saw her stood talking to Snape and McGonagall.

“At the end of the day, he was nothing except a half breed who should not have been teaching defence against the dark arts.” She smiled.

“Professor Lupin is a brilliant teacher, he cares for his students. Regardless of his heritage.” McGonagall defended.

“A half breed should not be teaching at a school of magic children.”

You felt the rage boil up inside of you, how dare she speak like that. Especially about your father, especially in front of Snape.

Storming over, you tossed your books to the floor catching their attention.

“(Y/N) leave it!” Ron called after you.

You were having none of it, stopping in front of the three teachers you had a fire burning in your eye.

“Don’t you dare speak about my dad that way you bitch!” You yelled.

“Excuse me?”

“Miss (L/N) go to your next class.” Snape warned.

“No, because I’m not letting her be disrespectful to my dad. Or you professor. So what if someone is a half blood? Or a full blood? Or a the only witch or wizard in a family of ordinary humans?” You asked, “power doesn’t come from your heritage, it comes from you as a person.”

You took your tie and cloak off, throwing them to the ground.

Students stopped to watch the altercation, everyone who was passing by and even a few other teachers had stopped to see what was going on.

“Without my uniform what am I?”

“A delinquent.” Umbridge huffed.

“So be it, I’m a delinquent. But if everyone student in this school were to one day remove their colours, the prideful green of Slytherin gone. The intelligence of blue for ravenclaw gone. The soft yellow for hufflepuff gone, the red of the courage from Gryffindor gone. What will you do?”

McGonagall smirked a little, and did Snape when Umbridge never said a word in reply.

“Would you really be able to saw you could tell who was pure bloodied and who wasn’t?” You asked lowly.

“Well of course!”

“Go on then, tell me!” You yelled, “tell me you’re really going to separate people based on who their parents are!”

“That’s enough!” She yelled.

“No it isn’t! Tell them what you are Umbridge!” You yelled.

“You’re coming with me to detention.” She said shakily.

You grabbed your belongings and turned to the crowd who had gathered to watch.

“How many of you think she’s a pure blood?”

Quiet a few people raised their hands and you laughed.

“Sorry, but she’s not. She has two muggle parents.”

“That’s it!”

She grabbed your arm while everyone was whispering and dragged you away.

You didn’t care what kind of punishment she had for you, you got your payback in her for insulting your dad, and you wouldn’t have changed it for a thing.

In her office she made you sit down on a chair and handed you a quill.

“I know what this is.” You mused.

“Oh really, in that case I want you to write I must not tell lies over and over again until the message sinks in.”

You started writing, feeling the pain burn in your arm. Writing one sentence you set the quill down and smirked at her.

“Done.”

“The message hasn’t sunk in then don’t lie.”

“I don’t know what you mean professor, it has. You said write until it sinks in, and it has. Are you a pair?” You asked, offering her the quill.

She growled a little but didn’t say anything.

“Cya later mudblood.” You hummed.

Because of this you always had altercations with the new professor, and as it came to Christmas for you to go home you were feeling more fuelled to annoy the teacher when you got back.

“Come on (Y/N) you can’t keep getting in trouble like this.” Harry sighed.

“She’s a bitch, so what?”

“Just lay low after Christmas.” Hermione said.

“I’ll think about it.” You smiled.

They all shared a look, they worried for you but they didn’t know how long it would be until both you and Umbridge stopped holding out on one another.

“Miss (L/N).”

You turned around to find Snape stood there, arms crossed against his chest.

Waving the other students away and walked over and smiled at him.

“Professor.”

“Although I can not condone your actions… thank you.”

You knew what he was talking about and smiled ever brighter.

“Merry Christmas sir.”

With that, you ran on to the train.

Remus was waiting for you when you got off, and you crushed him into a hug.

He spoke with the other three for a few minutes before you guys set off.

“How was it?” He asked.

“It was pretty good.” You beamed.

You weren’t going to tell him what happened with Umbridge, and for nearly a week you avoided telling him. But when you came down for breakfast without a jumper to cover your arms, it was Sirius who spotted it.

“What the hell happened?” He asked quickly.

At first you were confused until remus gently took your arm to inspect it.

“I must not tell lies?” He asked.

You sighed softly and sat down, running a hand through your hair.

“I didn’t wanna tell you guys…”

You then explained everything, from her calling your dad a half breed to what you had done and everything after that point.

Sirius and remus were fuming.

“I’ll kill her for doing such a thing.” Sirius growled.

“Sirius it’s okay!” You smiled.

Remus shook his head and walked over, gently wrapping you up in a hug.

“It’s not okay, she shouldn’t be doing this. You should’ve told us and we would have dealt with it.” He sighed.

You shrugged lightly, you knew they weren’t going to let this go so you couldn’t argue with them.

“We’re coming back with you and we’re going to talk with the Umbridge.” Remus grumbled.

“Sirius is meant to be hiding.”

“I’ll come out of hiding for this.” He smiled.

You flicked your gaze between the two and just smiled with a shake if your head. There was no talking then out of it and you knew it

[golden-barnes]

First of many

Summary: This is your first anniversary with Spencer. And it’s nerve racking.

Pairing: Spencer Reid X GN!Reader

Content/Warning: Just fluff cause I’m a softie. But a few curse words and mention of anxiety.

Word Count: 2,021

Author’s note: I wrote this for @homoose​ ‘s creator challenge because I love her Spencer fics. I am so happy that you reached 2k, you deserve it and more. 

Spencer was, scrolling through Netflix, while you were getting some snacks. He came across Pan’s Labyrinth, which was the first movie the two of you had ever watched. 

Very early on you had realized that Spencer hasn’t watched a lot of pop culture-relevant movies and that’s when you decided that they would have mini movie marathons to get him caught up. Spencer smiled at the memory that was in the first months of your relationship. And then it hit him, like a bag of bricks. 

Their first anniversary was coming up. Real soon. Like in two weeks soon. How could Spencer forget? He had an eidetic memory. It’s just that everything was just so fast and nice, that it seems like time passed him by and he didn’t even notice. He didn’t have to stress about anything, everything came naturally between you two. 

Yes, there were ups and downs. Spencer is a stubborn man and you can be even more stubborn. He would try to protect you by closing off, you would call him out on it. He had his bad days and you had her bad days too, but would always talk it out and resolve it.

He loved you with all his might and you had made this year incredible. He felt at home when he was with you. He never imagined being able to feel this love for a singular person. And he was excited to show you. 

One problem though; this was the first time one of his relationships has lasted more than a few months. He didn’t know how to start. He didn’t know the proper etiquette for anniversaries. Hell, he had never read any literature about how to celebrate an anniversary. Fuck, what was he going to do? 

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, while waiting for the popcorn to be done to get back to cuddling with your boyfriend, You had an inkling that you were missing something. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch. You grabbed your phone to see if there was anything that would help you remember. But nothing. You still felt something wasn’t right. That’s when you saw it.

You knew you weren’t going to remember, you didn’t have Spencer’s memory. You wrote it on your calendar that was on the fridge. It was right there, with a red heart around the day and everything. Fuck.

Your anniversary was coming up. And you had no idea what to do. But that wasn’t the most stressful thing about the entire thing. It was that it was a reminder that you were Spencer’s longest relationship and this was the first time he has ever lasted a year with someone.

Spencer told you in the beginning about his woes and struggles with dating and being in a relationship. You found it adorable how nervous he was trying to figure out how to manage these relationship things. You even heard him talking to Derek and Luke one night to get advice. 

Thankfully, he was much more comfortable now and realized that he just had to be himself. But those first months were filled with you reassuring Spencer that he didn’t have to change or anything. That you loved him just the way he was.

That’s why you wanted to make this day special for Spencer. To celebrate that you have overcome multiple obstacles and are still together, one year later. To show him that he was the best boyfriend you could ever wish for. But, how can you do that? How can you make this the perfect day for the certified genius that was sitting in the living room? 

Out of all his friends, he knew only one of them could help him. Someone with the creativity, the passion for love, and the knowledge of you and that was Miss Penelope Garcia. Before he could even finish his sentence, she already knew what to do. 

She grabbed a piece of paper off her desk and started to scribble some words down. 

“Okay, boy wonder, you will meet me here after your last class. I will not accept any excuses. ” She gave Spencer a piece of paper. He smiled at his friend.

“Oh, I’m not done yet, mighty professor. How do you feel about shopping?” Spencer’s eyes widened. Shopping with Garcia wasn’t an easy thing, or so he heard from JJ.

“Hey, Reid! What are you doing here?” Luke said, poking his head from the door. 

“I- uhm. My classes are later in the day and I wanted to ask Garcia something.” Spencer told his friend, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Luke smiled at the brunet and turned his attention to Garcia. 

“It’s Spencer and Y/N anniversary in a couple of weeks and we are gonna help our beautiful genius.”  She said with the biggest smile. Luke laughed at Spencer’s confusion.

“Oh, this gonna be so much fun.” Garcia clapped.

You, on the other hand, were on a phone call with Emily ranting about it. You had no idea how to start. You knew what you were going to get him, sorta. Okay, you thought about one thing. But it wasn’t enough. It didn’t feel like enough.

“Y/N, calm down.” Emily laughed.

“Emily! Please, I need your help.” You groaned while Emily let another laugh. 

“How about a picnic?” She suggested.

“I don’t know. He probably won’t like the grass being close to the food. And then there’s all the people at the park. I don’t think Spencer would enjoy all the germs there must be. ” You rubbed your eyes, stressing out.

“Well, picnics don’t have to be in parks.” And that, folks, is why in Emily Prentiss we trust. You both started scheming to make this the best anniversary ever.

It wasn’t a competition but not even an unbiased jury of profilers and behavior specialists can decipher which one of you two was more nervous. 

On one hand, we had Spencer checking his gift that he put in the backseat so you wouldn’t be able to peak. His head wasn’t even in the conversation you were trying to form, keyword trying. He just felt his hands getting clammy. His heart was in his throat, not literally but he felt it. He had never done something like this.

Then, on the other hand, we had you. Gripping the steering wheel as if someone was going to rip it from you. You were trying to calm yourself down by talking with Spencer but he kept looking over his shoulder, staring at the gift he got you. He said he wasn’t gonna show it to you till you reached your destination. The minute you saw a big purple gift bag, you felt your heart stop. But also your brain starts to run. What if he didn’t like your gifts? 

You parked in front of the location and turned off the car. Spencer gave you a soft smile and grabbed your hand. He kissed it and rubbed the place where he planted the kiss.

“What was that for?” You giggled. 

“No reason. Just because I love you.” He gave you a wink. You grabbed his face and pulled him in for a soft kiss.

“C’mon, sweetie. Let’s go.” You opened your car door and headed out. You entered the place, trying to set out everything.

“You can do this, Reid.” Spencer took a deep breath, grabbed the gift, and headed to where you were. 

Spencer knocked on the door and quickly you opened it. You gave him a smile and let him in. Spencer gasped.

“Ta-da!” It was an art gallery, filled with brand new paintings and unknown artists. But in the middle of the room, there was a blanket, a light candle, and a picnic basket. 

“What? I- How did you do this?" Spencer couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was just too overwhelming.

"Well, Emily Prentiss has friends in high places. And one of them just so happened to own this gallery." You explained, grabbing his hands leading him to the blanket. "So what do you think?" 

"I love it so much! It's- Woah." Spencer was speechless. His eyes were sparkling with love. He couldn't believe it.

"Did I just render doctor Spencer Reid speechless?" You joked, Spencer rolled his eyes.

"You know it's not that difficult for you." You smiled at his words. Spencer remembered his gift and started to scratch his neck nervously. How could he top this? What he didn’t realize is that you are still nervous.

"Do you- uhm- want to have your gift right now?" He grabbed the purple gift bag, clenching it close to his heart. 

“Well if you want to.” You said, trying to ease his discomfort. 

“I mean you already gave me my present and it was spectacular. It’s only fair and just that I give you yours. Obviously, if you want to wait it’s fine by me. Or if you don’t want it till we get home, I understand. I-” Spencer rambled, before being cut off by you.

“Spence, hey, calm down. First of all, this isn’t your only gift.” You stated. Spencer looked at you strangely. 

“Woah, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but this is enough. I mean look at this. This is incredible. I can’t believe you did this. I love everything about it. It’s the best way to have a picnic. ” He exclaimed. You chuckled at your boyfriend’s excitement. 

“It’s just a small thing. Don’t worry about it. Now.” You made grabby hands at him, and he laughed while giving you the gift. You opened the bag to see a familiar color purple ball of yarn, a box, and a little book.

“I know you like my purple scarf and since I take it to cases sometimes, so I made you one.” You pulled the scarf out of the bag.

“How?” You gasped. 

“Garcia took me to this recreational center she volunteers at and they had a knitting class. I don’t know, it just made sense.” Spence explained. 

“It’s even warmer than yours.” You said putting it around your neck. Spencer’s heart clenched. “Wait, there’s more. Right.” You pulled the box out of the bag and opened it. It was a simple gold necklace with an S on it. You gasped at the gift. 

“Spencer, I-” “That’s not all. Look at the book.” It was a simple leather small letter notebook. You gave Spencer a look, to which he responded by giving you a reassuring smile.

You opened it to see Spencer’s writing on the first page. 

Whenever you are feeling sad, lonely, or need a pick me up, read a page from this book.

With love, Spencer 

“They are a collection of love letters. Or messages meant to be in love letters, to you.” He said softly.

“Oh, Spencer!.” You pulled into a hug. He gripped you tightly. You pulled away and started peppering kisses all over his face.

“I love you so much.” You said, grabbing his face. He smiled. Something Spencer loved was when you hold his face in your hands. It made him feel safe and loved.

“And I love you.” He leaned in and kissed you. You pulled away first and gave him a smile.

“‘Now time for your present.” You opened the basket to pull out a box. Spencer grabbed the box out of your hands and started to take off the gift wrap. Spencer gasped, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull.

“You didn’t.” He said his eyes never leaving the book in his hands. You chuckled. Spencer had recently been going through all of his mom’s scrapbooks. And you would sit in his lap while he explained every picture and every article. It was like a therapeutic thing. So you decided you wanted to make one for you guys. 

“Oh but I did.” You winked at him. He went through the pictures with tears in his eyes. A year’s worth of memories, right there. He noticed there were a couple of blank pages.

“For the years to come.” You said softly. 

“For the years to come.” Spencer repeated.

[dark-horse731]

Time to be a bit Gryffindorish🦁 💪🏻

Notes:

You’d all must already known about AMAZING @kylorenvevo SW/HP crossover called The Heartbreak Prince, because if you don’t, I’m asking you to leave anything you are doing and READ IT. Right now! After TROS I suffered through very nasty breakdown and was afraid that I will never be able to read Reylo canonverse fanfiction again. But then I saw some beautiful art of Rey with Gryffindor tie, and it sparkled smthg in me. I went for it because it’s bloody Harry Potter AU and it was the best decision of my post-TROS life! Harry Potter is still my #1 passion and I’m absolutely transfixed by the talent of @kylorenvevo, how she managed to mix those very different worlds SO ELEGANTLY! This fic is helping me so much to fight my anxiety, that recently I found myself daydreaming about Rey/Professor Solo future daily interactions and I started to write my thoughts down. I mentioned it to Thea and she was so kind 😭, asking me if I wanted to share some of my drabbles and I promised I will try. And maybe because of her kindness or because it’s my Birthday, I decided to be Gryffindor (just for today!) and share a bit of my fanfiction on The Heartbreak Prince. This is the first time I share my writing in English. And I hope someone will like it! And AGAIN, first of all, please, give all your love to Thea for her incredible works (ALL OF THEM) that inspire people! (I’m apologizing for typos and grammatical mistakes😔, English isn’t my first language, but I’m trying to improve it as much as I can. And, please, pay attantion to original tags and rating, I kept them.)

The Heartbreak Prince drabbles.💔

Your smile. Part 1.

“Miss Niima, please, hold on for a moment.”

She couldn’t stop a little victorious smile spreading on her face. Finally.

Seff drugs his surprised look from Professor Solo to her face, silently asking if she needs a back up here. Rey only has less then a second to hide her obvious smirk behind a warm smile.

“I’ll see you in Great Hall.”

She squeezes his hand, and hear a sharp scratching sound from teacher’s desk.

“He’s not in a mood,” Seff wispers sympasizingly and lefts with others.

Rey steadies her breath, trying to calm herself before walking back to the desk at the front raw. Her excitement is radiating on miles ahead but she had to stay composed for the sake of her sanity. Those were the very long and painful weeks, where she felt like an utter idiot for allowing her heart to be vulnerable, lonely and hungry for attention of the man whom she was no match for. She found herself desperately clinging to Finn and Rose so they barely had time for their relationship. Rey hated herself for being like that, but being alone those days was out of question. The images of his hands smashing the wood just a moment before his lips crushed hers were waiting her everytime she found herself alone. Phantoms of his hoarse whispers still dancing on the skin of her neck. Making her weak, and to her complete horror even reducing her magic. Rey couldn’t study properly, couldn’t fly, couldn’t be... herself. It’s like he became a part of her, her half that was missing, making her body and soul a needing mess.

On one of those days Rey spilled to Seff Hellin how pathetic she thinks she is, without saying the reason, and it took him a whole evening to passionately convince her that she couldn’t be more wrong. Rey was so thankful for his support and started to spend most of her time in boy’s company. Still captivated by her misery, she didn’t notice how closer now they seemed to appear to others. It was only after one DADA class, where Professor Solo took 20 points from Ravenclaw, Rey started to see how Ben Solo seemed to lose his temper everytime Seff diverted her attention in class or, worse, made her laugh. Seff didn’t stop though, completely oblivious to the reasons why Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher suddenly disliked him that much, honestly trying to improve his studies. That’s when a plan arised in her head.

Rey once heard Tallissan talking about how easy she could make a boy jealous. It takes just a few smiles for other boy here, a touch of a hand there, and something primal wakes in him, she called it “a desire to possess”, to claim the right to be the only one. Rey never approved such unhealthy ways, but it was before Ben Solo stormed into her life and made her come with his only knee. And now she was hungry, starving, seeking his attention, like it’s the only food she’ll ever eat again. And now Rey couldn’t mess it up.

Professor Solo was wiping the board standing with his back to her like he always does. Rey doesn’t mind, taking this time to calm her furious heart rate and watching his hand making slow motions from one side of the board to another. How come his shoulders are as big as a mountain? She wonders how they look without clothes. How his muscles stretch from moving, when he’s slidding his hands down her body.

Rey blinks the mirage away, already squeezing her thighs hard. And he didn’t even start talking, still with his back to her as usual. But something however feels different today.

She pays attention to every detail of his state trying to catch what has changed. It’s when he starts to make a third round of wiping the perfectly clear board when she realizes that he’s stalling. Oh and it’s so easy to believe that she succeeded in her devilish plan, that he is nervous and afraid to confront her, that for once in this dangerous game they ended up playing with each other it’s her turn to set the rules.

Encouraged she breaks the silence first:

“Did you want to talk about something, sir?” with the sweetest tone she could manage.

His hand freezes with a twitch and he makes too much of a deal from placing the dirty cloth down, slowly folding it once, twice and making sure it won’t fall down after that. Then he starts to turn, still not looking up, and she notices he forgot to clean his hands, letting them fall to his sides, leaving chalky prints on exceptionally black pants. Prematurely satisfied with a thought that she indeed is the reason for his strange behavior, she lets her courage mute all her sanity and opens her mouth to say:

Looks like now you are the dirty one.

But her scandalous smugness dies immediately the second she meets his eyes.

Rey wasn’t prepared for that. She didn’t quite know what she expected from him, too captivated with her own desires. A scold, a yell, maybe? Another comment about how this is unacceptable? Anything! But this.

Your smile. Part 2. →

Can’t believe I’m doing this! Oof

I’ll be posting more of my fiction next month, and once again I’m calling everyone go and read the masterpiece by @kylorenvevo! Thank you, Thea, so much for inspiration 💚.

Maybe I will finally begin to post my original writing after all.