A Kiss With Tongue And Teeth ☠︎

baby bumps | remus lupin x female!reader

just a small drabble I thought about with a friend! @dancing-in-the-moonlight3

summary: as you come months along your pregnancy, you steal more of remus’s sweaters.

warnings: female reader, pregnancy, pure fluff

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I can't feel my face when I'm with you — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “Hi!! I love your stories so much! I was wondering if you can do five x female reader with powers friends to lovers. But like since Five isn't in pda, his siblings catch them being mushy in private with fluff prompts 4,6, and 14.”

“Can you write a one shot with Five Hargreeves where the reader and Five hate eachother but then slowly they start falling in love?”

“Hiii I absolutely adore your writing! Do you think you could possibly write some really fluffy, vanilla, lovemaking for Five? Or something of the sort?? You don't have to do it obviously but just know that I love your writing!”

Fluff prompts:

4. “Sweetheart, you’re my entire world”

6. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

14. “I don’t like to pretend we’re not together.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

Request are open. Love you❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem!Reader

Warnings: just swearing, its is veeeeeery fluff.

— — — — —

Irritating. If Five Hargreeves had to define you in one word, he would use that one. Irritating. Even for his subtly balanced and explosive temperament, he recognized that you had the gift like no one else to burn his paitence. In an instant. And that was purely irritating.

If someon asked, Five would find a thousand and one reasons to explain why he didn't like you. He would do a hundred-page dissertation if asked, would take arguments from hell to justify his dislike.

He couldn't stand how you always saw the good side of things when everything was falling apart, nor how your good mood was almost insurmountable, let alone how you always seemed so happy. Five hated how your smile seemed to contain the brightness of the stars, how your body seemed to radiate the warmth of the Tunisian sun, and how you looked like a goddamn princess. It was unbearable because fairy tales did not exist and Five spent his entire life trying to exorcise any dreams within himself with that enchanted touch, kill the hope that’s exists a fairy tales. It was years of learning to see everything coolly and objectively, until you came and rubbed in his face that he was wrong. What princesses and maidens as beautiful as fairy tales existed, and that you promised to contain all the happiness of "Happily ever after."

Five Hargreeves hated that. He was deeply irritated when, whenever you looked at him, he had the feeling that his legs were going to fail. He knew he obsessed with control and losing the control of him own body and own emotions was a deep and cutting blow.

Why did you have to be like that? Why did you have to be so beautiful that it hurt? Why did you have to throw in the latrine his sentences that passion and romance did not exist.

He said to the seven winds, and to anyone who wanted to hear, that he didn't like you at all. He didn't like anything that referred to you. But the truth was that... Well, he didn't know what the truth was. Five did not know everything, however much he tried to give the opposite impression. But he had avoided you as the devil avoided the cross. He claimed he didn't like you, but maybe that wasn't it. Maybe he just didn't like himself when he was with you.

He didn't like how him heart beat so fast he seemed to be developing cardiac arrhythmia, he didn't like how him hands sweated whenever you smiled, and he definitely didn't like how his body was taken by an uneasy restlessness every time you were beside him. It was like you were a powerful drug, and just looking at you already had side effects on Five.

"Why do you hate me so much?" You asked one day, the arms leaning against the hargreeves mansion bar and looked at Five.

The siblings had left and there were only two of you in the room, and that seemed to be the perfect time to talking about the elephant in the room. You did not know why Five hated you so much, you always tried to be kind and nice. And sometimes this was a goddamn challenge because Five was not the most enjoyable person in the world. But you tried to make a friendships whit him,you tried to get closer. Just to be pushed even further away.

So if the guy was going to hate you, at least him should tell you the reason.

Five raised the look of the beer for you, a little surprised and perplexed for your initiative, a little disbelieving with what was happening, and... angry for your action.

He looked away, then drinking another sip of alcohol.

“You annoy me.” And it was just what he said before disappearing in Blue Flash.

This guy...

After that, Five stayed away from you as if you were the Prague.

He told himself that he was just trying to avoid another conversation between the two of you. But the truth was... it was that if he got so close to you again, he wouldn't be able to control himself.

Why the hell did you have to be like that ?! Why did you have to look so much like gravity? Attracting and holding him in you, just you. As if he were just another planet orbiting around you.

How long would he still be trapped in you? One week? One month? All life? Was he bound to be chained to you like anchors to ships? Had his life really come down to the melodrama of wanting an overwhelmingly beautiful girl and being sentenced to never have her?

Holy mother of God, he hated you so fucking mutch!

He hated how just that insignificant conversation between you two was spinning around in his mind. Even after two days. He hated how you invaded him life like an atrocious wave and took everything away with you, sweeping away his self-control. Five Hargreeves was burning with rage and...something he couldn't name. Those overwhelming and troubled emotions and feelings were bubbling up inside him mind.

And that's when he put an end to it.

Five could barely see a span in front of him because of his anger, everything was red when he marched into the living room. Where he knew you would be. You were always there when you weren't in the your house or Allison and Klaus were out. And when he entered the room, with the energy of a wild animal changing all the air, you looked up from the book you were reading and frowned at Five in question.

The fireplace's flame crackled against your face, illuminating your fine features and contrasting with the color of your skin and red lips. You were absurdly wonderful and him heart gave a jump that almost made him bend forward. And that just made him more angrier.

And wen Five realized, he had already marched up to you, leaned on that fucking couch you were sitting on and sinking your hands to the sides of your face, capturing your lips in a deep, intense, burning kiss. Five kissed you like it was the only thing worth doing, and brought you closer as if it was no longer possible to live without your touch.

And it really wasn't.

Because as soon as he walked away and you gave him a brilliant and magnificent smile, Five realized that it would never be possible to live again if he weren't close to you. If he was not feeling your touch, if he were not seeing your unshakable good mood, hearing your positivism phrases. He just hoped that, just as you saw the good in everything, you saw the good in him too.

Then, when you pulled him by the tie for another kiss, Five discovered the truth: He didn't hate you. He love you. And that revoked absolutely everything.

Five Hargreeves was a possessive, territorial and...needy man. He spent so much time without love and without a real touch that when him body curled up in yours - in every way - Five discovered that he was thirsty for contact. For love, for affection, for passion. He wanted to drunk everything you had to offer, he constantly wanted to feel the warmth of your skin, to lose himself in his private little piece of paradise.

Five had no good times in life, and very few of them contained love or displays of affection, so he just stated to himself all those years that he didn't need any of that. But now, after ten months of dating, watching you in the kitchen filling a cup of coffee in the middle of the night, Five wondered how he managed to get through 25 years without you.

He spent years failing to imagine the love in his life, and now he couldn't live a day without.

Five was an intense man, always had been. Since his temperament, his sarcasm and his courage. He felt things intensely, he just learned to keep them inside him very well. And maybe that's why, while admiring you, he wondered what you two were waiting for.

What were you two waiting for to spend the rest of your life together? What were waiting for to shout to the world that were together? So what if it was only ten months ago? Five would have married you after the fucking third week if you want.

He love you. And his love was intense, deep and overwhelming.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You laughed, approaching the kitchen table he was at.

You sat on the edge of the furniture, your feet not touching the floor, and handed the mug to him. Five kept the half smile on his face as he got up from the chair and moved closer to you, placing him body between your legs and your chest against him.

“As?” He said, voice low, hoarse, as took the mug you offered.

“As... I don't know.” You laughed, slightly flushed “As if I was one of your favorite things in the world” You joked.

But Five wasn’t kidding when he said: “Sweetheart, you’re my entire world”

Your heart pounded that second, a bittersweet tingle pricked your eyes and you gave a shaky smile as you lifted your hands up him arms and rested your head on him chest, listening to him heartbeat.

“I love you." You whispered, now hugging his waist.

Then, as if Five had not already hit your sentimentality so deeply with words that made you end up, he wandered his hands down your back and hair and whispered back: “I'm going to marry you one day.”

This time, you had to look up at him, your chin resting on the broad male chest as tears now formed in your eyes more strongly.

“Are you ... are you serious?"

Five's smile was the most genuine and pure you've ever seen. It wasn't a wide, toothy smile, but it was something so sweet and passionate that you felt your heartbeat tune with his.

“Uhum.” He murmured, too lost in the wonderful sensation it was to feel your skin under theirs, to feel the heat of your body.

“Do you really think about a future together?" You were too excited to let it go.

The truth was, you wanted it. You wanted everything with Five. All the craziness, all the stages. wanted him every day.

“You do not?” He still murmured in that sweet tone, with his guard down fully.

His fingers went up gently over your face, brushing a strand of hair out of yours eyes, enjoying every detail of it.

"I do... actually more often than I would like to admit.” You blushed.

"So it's settled.” Five splashed a kiss on your lips, wanting to return quickly to the contemplation of your face.

Now you were confused. “What…?” You lost your breath.

There was so much love in those green eyes, so much devotion, fidelity and affection. Five was swearing eternal love with just one look and you felt your whole body shiver. You loved all versions of Five, all his moods, but there was something about his version with his guard down completely that surrendered you. That would get anything from you. If he asked you to rob a bank with that look, that voice, that body language, you wouldn't have hesitated.

"Assemble a future together.” He still murmured, almost like a purr, spreading some small, soft kisses on your cheeks.

You were stunned, your heart was racing faster by the moment.

“Like…? Do you want to say we live together? ” Oh God, be yes, be yes!

“Whatever you want.” He always gave you everything you wanted “To live together, get married, adopt a cat. Any fucking thing, as long as it's with you, as long as it's something that allows me to sleep with you every night. ”

Now your heart was melted gelatin, tears were already wetting your cheeks and you have never felt so much love in your life. So much passion. It was pure, superb, divine.

You nodded frantically in Yes, unable to speak because of the crying and the lump in your throat. So, to make up for your lack of dialogue, you pulled him into a tender kiss, hoping that Five could feel in that kiss how much you loved him.

“I don’t like to pretend we’re not together.” Five released after the kiss, his forehead against yours.

And when you opened your mouth to say that it was no longer necessary, that you two were going to tell everyone, a very familiar voice came from behind you two, standing at the kitchen door.

“Ooh but there's no way pretend anymore!” It was Klaus, who laughed in amazement as you two both looked in their direction.

All the siblings were there, shocked and amazed. You swore, burying your face in Five's chest while trying not to be ashamed. Five rolled his eyes at the siblings, wrapping his arms around you.

But you can still hear Klaus: "Sooo...when will the wedding date be?"

pose | s. black

summary — “Pose.” He says, “show your husband how good I've been slutting you out all this time.”

warnings — infidelity (?), daddy kink, pet names, fingering (light), filmed sex, oral sex (male receiving), innocence kink, cream pie, degrading, praise.

word count — 1.9k

author’s note — just so y’all know, this is divorce lawyer!sirius, i didn’t know how to deadpan it in the fic lmao but yea.

———

Voice quivering you gasp, “Sirius- what if he- fuck!- what if he walks back in?”

Sirius scoffs, “let him, see how he feels when he catches another man balls deep your pretty cunt.” You whine, head knocking back on the wooden desk, letting the brunette resume his kissing on your neck, soft skin puckering with goosebumps at the contact of his lips.

His skilled fingers drum over your sopping sex, collecting your slick in them, he brings them to his mouth; you fucking throb at the sight.

“You’re so sweet I could feast on you for a living, doll,” he purrs, eyes darkened with fervent lust.

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His Girl

Pairing: shy!remus lupin x shy!fem!reader

summary: An oblivious boy that you've been trying to get away from for a week corners you at a party. Luckily, Remus is there to help.

warnings: fake dating, sexual harassment (catcalling, attempted forced kiss), implied attempted SA (nothing too graphic, remus steps in before the creep gets too close), no use of (y/n), alcohol consumption, language, mutual pining, secondhand embarrassment, cheesiness, fluffy ending because shy remus deserves the world (w/c: 2.4k)

“Pretty girl, come back and talk t’me! I’m getting lonely over here all by myself,” Jason Hartley slurred, stretching out a clammy hand in your direction. You were thankful that his movements were uncoordinated, because it was difficult enough to navigate through the throng of students packed together like sardines.

In the low lighting of the Gryffindor common room, you couldn't make out any familiar faces, so you set your sight on disappearing behind the nearest group of people.

The problem arose last week in potions class. Your desk partner was a kind Hufflepuff girl, but usually abandoned you to spend time with her closer friends. Jason – the boy who sat behind you – volunteered to be your partner for such occasions, and honestly, you didn’t mind at first. He wasn’t a great student, but managed to at least brew the potions correctly where many of your classmates failed.

However, Jason was unwaveringly obnoxious, and earned a daily scolding from Professor Slughorn for talking over the entirety of his instructions. 

While brewing a particularly petulant draught of peace, Jason sighed loudly, causing you to turn and face him. When you asked him what was wrong, he whined and explained how his girlfriend had cheated on him with one of his friends.

It was clearly causing him a lot of grief, and you reasoned that for the decent help he provided you with, he deserved something to cheer him up. You kindheartedly offered to treat him to a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, to which he agreed with a smug smile.

You first realised your mistake when he met you at the front gate of the school, gleefully exclaiming how excited he was for your “date.”

You rushed to correct him, but he kept blathering on about the masculinity of Quidditch (he didn’t make the team), his aptitude in transfiguration (he was publicly lectured by professor McGonnagall only days prior), and how women shouldn’t apply for positions in the Ministry (he couldn’t name any of the departments if he tried).

By the time he finished, hours had passed and your voice was scratchy from disuse. You smiled politely as you dug your fingernails into your palms under the table. It wasn’t even worth arguing with him about. 

After you fished out your wallet and paid for the both of you, he leaned in to grab your waist and kiss you full-on, but you sidestepped away from him just in time.

As always, he was completely oblivious to any sort of rejection whatsoever. You saved yourself from walking back to the school with him when you told him that you needed to pick up some “sensitive” items in the apothecary.

You left him no room to argue before heaving the door open and booking it to the Honeydukes cellar passageway as fast as you could.

He’d been trying to track you down in the days since, and you’d successfully avoided him every time. Until now. 

“Baby, please! Need you to sit on my lap, kiss me hard,” he groaned, tossing his half-consumed cup of liquor across the crowded room. Unfortunately, no one seemed to notice. You gagged. Your chest was heaving – releasing short breaths that made it feel like you were drowning.

You were running out of space to escape from him, and everyone else was too drunk to interfere. In a moment of weakness, you wedged yourself between two cabinets and shut your eyes, praying that whatever he tried would be over soon.

When a voice rang out through the muffled hum of the crowd, it was sweeter than you’d expected. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, darling. I picked up your favourite chocolate and some peonies that I thought you might like.” Your shoulders dropped. You blinked open your eyes, and found that your view of the party was blocked by the cutest boy you’d ever seen.

Golden brown hair draped over his hazel-coloured eyes, and a silver scar crossed over his nose and through his eyebrow. His Adam's apple bobbed, as if he was nervously awaiting your response. His gaze was soft, and pleaded for you to take the pink flowers extended in his hands. “Play along,” he mouthed. Your fingers curled around his larger hand, and your arm settled around his back. 

“Baby, you don’t need to apologise.” You stood on your toes and cupped his jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Remus swallowed thickly and prayed that his face didn’t look as red as it felt. His hands were on fire as you embraced them delicately. “I’m so lucky that you thought of me, my love.”

You side-eyed Jason, who scoffed, and muttered words of defeat under his breath as he scurried off to bother some other poor soul. 

Remus took note of the way your body decompressed, and how you continued to squeeze his hand. He’d like to think that it was your method of comforting yourself without even realising it. “Would you like to get some fresh air?” He suggested, meeting your shy gaze once again.

You nodded contentedly and intertwined your arms, letting him lead you through the portrait hole and away from the flashing lights and bass-boosted music. 

As the adrenaline of escaping from Jason faded, your nervous system reminded you of who you were clinging to like a lifeline. Of course you knew Remus – everyone did. He was one of the most handsome boys in your year, albeit shy and soft-spoken, and you’d been madly crushing on him (distantly) since you were both twelve.

Of course, this was when the Marauders were first establishing themselves as a force to be reckoned with – universally acknowledged and adored by admirers, loathed by foes, and a torment to most professors. 

However, Remus seemed to be immune to controversy. He engaged in his fair share of misbehaviour, but he was less impulsive than his best mates, and preferred to spend his time in the library, burrowing within treasure troves of fictional worlds and academic knowledge.

On many occasions, you spotted him deep in concentration, eyes squinted and hands deftly tracing scenes of the Black Lake onto a sketchbook. 

You almost worked up the courage to speak to him once, but resigned yourself when you learned that you were not unique in your position. You chose to admire him from a distance after overhearing routine whispers of girls (and guys) fawning over him in almost every corridor of the castle.

He, however, was completely unaware of the group of admirers that giggled and twirled their hair at the mere sight of him.

He didn’t seem to ever notice you, though, which hurt way more than it should. Recently, you’d attempted to move on – yet here you were, making a fool out of yourself and melting into his side. 

Thanks to Remus’ prefect privileges, you were able to bypass the security of the castle and head straight for the serenity of the lake. As you both nestled yourself in the surrounding grass, his hold on your hand loosened. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern apparent in his tone. His furrowed brow and the flecks of gold in his eyes tinted your cheeks pink. You were thankful that it was dark outside. 

“I’m lucky that you were there to rescue me, s’all.” You nearly whispered. “He hasn’t left me alone all week.” 

“I know.” Remus muttered, shaking his head and staring at his legs. His eyes widened. “I mean- he’s a total prick. Always acting as if girls owe him something. It’s impossible not to notice him. I’m sorry I didn’t do something earlier- in potions class, I mean.” He cursed himself for being so awkward. 

Meanwhile, you felt electricity warm your stomach. Remus had really noticed you before? Sure, he was known for being exceptionally kind, but your paths hadn’t ever crossed in a noteworthy way, at least to you.

He continued. “I’m sorry if it was awkward– what I did. I don’t think anything else would have worked on him, at this point.” His voice trailed off, growing softer at the end. 

“Are you kidding? Remus, that was brilliant!” You slapped a hand over your mouth. The volume in your voice startled a crow at the edge of the lake, who began to caw wildly.

You continued, more gently this time. “I mean, you’re brilliant. Of course you are, with all of the studying you do. In the library, like every day.” Remus’ grin widened as you got increasingly flustered. “I meant to say – God, I’m bad at this. What I mean to say is thank you. I know that everyone always talks about how nice you are, but now I get it.”

“What, you didn’t believe them before?” Remus teased. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but he cut you off. “I’m only joking. You’re welcome, you’re always welcome. It was nothing. I’d break his nose, if I had the chance. In fact, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind laxatives in his breakfast, and a week-long vacation to the infirmary after duelling practice.”

“Remus!” You chided, shoving his shoulder lightly. He caught your hand on his chest, and rubbed his thumb against your knuckles lightly.

“Only joking,” He smiled widely, feeling his heart pound so hard against his ribcage he thought he might die. He wondered if you felt it from where you were sitting, only a foot away from him.

He lowered your hand, and used your distracted state as a chance to admire your carefree expression. Your lips were stretched wide in laughter, and your breath was melodic in the silence of midnight. Your features were relaxed, and he couldn’t remember the last time he saw you this way.

For years he'd taken to admiring you from afar, too afraid of stumbling over his words and becoming a bumbling idiot without a brain. He shamefully recalled the time that he gave a presentation in front of his history of magic class and froze under your tender gaze.

He groaned into his pillow the entire night as James and Sirius skipped in circles around his bed, cackling and spluttering and imitating him forgetting how to speak for ten minutes.

Still, whenever he saw you, it was like seeing you for the first time. He was a total mess, and you probably saw right through him. Your voice cut through his usual self-depracating inner monologue. 

“Remus, why did you have chocolates and flowers with you anyway?” You murmured, feeling your heartbeat pick up in your chest. You hated yourself for asking this question because you already knew the answer. Your palms began to sweat. In the moment of suspense, you would have done anything to cling to blind hope for a little while longer. Maybe he liked you back. Deep down, you knew that it couldn't be true.

You were making him nervous, and Remus always seemed to exude confidence. He probably wanted to give those gifts to a lucky guy or girl who wasn’t you, and whose date you must have crashed with your personal issues. 

“Oh,” he swallowed. “Well actually, Pads–er, Sirius, asked me to pick these up for a guy on our floor that he’s been trying to impress lately.” He exhaled a puff of air through his nose. “Reckon he couldn’t be bothered to get them himself. These’re yours now.” He looked up at you through his eyelashes, heart stopping when you giggled and lowered your head to smell the peonies. 

You felt warmth swell in your chest. In the silence, a moment of confidence struck you. “Why haven’t we talked like this before?” 

Remus’ throat felt dry. His mind was racing as he tried to think of what to say – something that was destined to only scratch the surface of what he wished he could tell you. “When we’re in the library at the same time and you're not looking, I see you huddled over your books, and I think I start having heart palpitations or something, and I – fuck, you’re so pretty.” Your jaw dropped. He realised. “Shit, did I say that out loud?”

“Remus-”

“Well, I’ve already started, might as well just say it all,” he muttered under his breath. He hoped you wouldn’t hate him after this. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and I’m an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing. When I see you in the corridor, or in the common room, I think I lose myself, and I end up trying to act like someone else, like a less-insecure version of myself, and fuck, you’re gorgeous and I’m just– I’m-” 

“Remus.” You placed your hand on top of his. He exhaled, hoping to God that he doesn’t start crying when you reject him. “Remus, I – um, I like you. A lot.” His heart stopped. He thought he blacked out for a minute, maybe two. Eventually, you noticed his vacant expression, and his eyes that were unblinking.

 “Remus, are you okay? Earth to Remus?” Suddenly, he was brought back to life. He felt like somebody told him that he qualified for the Olympics, or he received outstandings in all of his N.E.W.T.s. Maybe his dreams of meeting David Bowie had come true, or even better. Definitely better.

In a moment of impulsivity, he leaned forward until his face was in front of your own. You could feel his shaky exhale on your skin, waiting for you to make the next move. You leaned toward him and gently pressed your lips against his, running your hands through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He hummed into your mouth and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

Slowly, he pulled away for breath. “Sweet girl, can I take you out to get a proper butterbeer? Without sexist jokes, or wandering hands? Or– I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” You beamed at him, and Remus’ heart thudded in his chest hard.

“I don’t mind the wandering hands part, actually.”

He erupted into surprised laughter – short, breathless gasps that escaped his heaving chest. “Oi, you were so shy a moment ago! Where has my nervous girl gone?” He didn’t attempt to hide the warmth that seeped into his features and illuminated him in a hue of pink, scarcely visible in the webs of shadowy moonlight that slithered through the clouds. 

“Your girl, huh?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t mean – unless you also wanted to be, for me to ask you properly, because I want you to-” 

“I think I could get used to that. Only if I’d get to call you ‘my boy,’ though."

Remus' smile was contagious. He felt a blooming love break free from beneath the patchwork of scars adorning his chest and the steely barriers within. He unravelled all of his defences. He was sure of it. You would be his girl, his everything, always.

The next morning, he made sure to arrange an extra special meeting between Jason, who was covered in painful head-to-toe boils, and the head of school. So help him, Jason would never see any part of you or the castle again.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope that you enjoyed! Please do not copy or translate any of my work without permission. As this is my first work on this blog, likes and reblogs are very much apprecated!! - xoxo, Opalesquegirl

Kinktober 22 - Breeding (Loki)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Smut warning, dub con/noncon

(Possible proof reading errors)

Length: One Shot

__________

“Why am I here?” you’re struggling against the two S.H.I.E.L.D agents with the glazed eyes

Loki prowled in front of you, still dressed in his ceremonial robes. He’d said nothing to you since you’d been brought here, kicking and screaming from your ancestral home in Europe.

“Sit,” he says simply.

“I don’t want to.”

“SIT!” he commands and you flinch, your eyes flicking to the sceptre with the razor sharp point at the end.

Keep reading

˜”*°•.˜”*°• 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗽𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘀 •°*”˜.•°*”˜

🤍 - fluff

🖤 - angst

marauders era

james potter:

potter sibling headcanons (ocs) 🤍🖤

warnings: angst, death

remus lupin:

baby bumps (drabble) 🤍

full moons 🖤🤍

overdue 🖤🤍

sleeping beauty 🤍

grow as we go 🖤🤍

regulus black:

the locket 🖤

warnings: major character death

alternate ending 🖤🤍

grey eyes 🤍

mon soleil 🤍

lightning era

harry potter:

dumbledore’s army 🤍

blame it on the butter beer 🤍

the pensieve (sister reader) 🖤

warnings: angst, major character death

neville longbottom:

back to hogwarts 🤍

amends 🤍

elephant in the room 🤍

house division 🖤🤍

flowers 🤍

sweater threads 🤍

cursed 🖤🤍

part two

she’s gone 🖤

warnings: major character death

ease my mind 🖤🤍

warnings: mentions of depression

build a bear workshop (headcanons) 🤍

the pensieve 🖤

warnings: angst, major character death

bonus scene

alternate ending 🖤🤍

oliver wood:

little bother 🤍

fantastic beasts and where to find them

theseus scamander:

winter kisses 🤍

the dress (newt scamander x best friend!reader; theseus Scamanders fiancé!reader) 🤍

care for a treat? 🤍

Not a god damn word from me ...

Not So Cocky - Draco Malfoy x Reader

a/n: this is my almost late submission for asteria's 4k challenge!! congrats to @chokemepansy on 4k followers, and i really hope you like this one-shot!!

my first fics on wattpad were literally harry potter, and so writing this was super nostalgic :) lmk if you're a fan of hp writing because it can definitely become my guilty pleasure!!

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: almost exactly 3.5k

warnings: language, jealousy, fluff

prompts used: "is that new?" + "who gave that to you?" + "not so cocky now, are you?"

sneak-peek: draco is obsessive, possessive, and cocky, and you love it.

all dividers are from @firefly-graphics, they are so gorgeous omg!!

main masterlist | harry potter masterlist | draco malfoy

The first snowfall at Hogwarts lays a thin sheet of white over the rooftops, and you watch each little snowflake fall, almost mesmerized by them.

Most of your Ravenclaw friends disliked snow days; to them, it meant red noses, sniffling constantly, getting hit by snowballs, and having to wear an extra scarf in the library. It also meant mid-term tests and more and more stress that you just couldn’t deal with.

That’s why you spent more time with your Gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends this time of the year; they focused on throwing said snowballs, building snowmen, making snow angels, and, when the snow really piled up, going sledding. Even your Slytherin friends could enjoy the fun of the season, and they made the snowball fights even more epic.

Even though you were still a studious Ravenclaw, you were more popular than you would have ever expected. You were scoring high on all your tests, yet you still had time to watch quidditch matches with your friends. You were the nurse’s assistant in the infirmary, yet you could still go on adventures with the Gryffindors.

“Y/N, will you get down from there!” you hear below you, and you start giggling as you look down. Cho Chang, your best friend and roommate, stares up at you. You had used your bedpost to climb all the way up to one of the higher windows in the room, sitting on the window sill. This gave you a much better view of the snow and how it covers Hogwarts like a pearl white blanket.

“Why? It’s so beautiful up here, I could just gaze at this view for hours. Why don’t I come up here more often?” You smirk at her reaction as she rolls her eyes, already tired of you. “You know you love me,” you add in as she starts collecting the pillows off each bed, placing them on the floor in front of you.

She sighs, cracking a small smile. “Of course I do. If you jump forward just a little bit from the ledge, these should break your fall.” You can see her brilliant mind at work, making sure you wouldn’t fall to your death from the jump. It’s only just 10 or 12 feet off the ground; it probably can’t kill you, but you appreciate the concern. “Okay, go.”

On her signal, you jump down from the window sill. The pillows cushion your fall perfectly as you fall right in the center, and you look at her once you’re on your feet again. “I’m impressed, someone’s been doing their physics homework.” She beams back at you, nodding.

“One less trip to the infirmary, right? Now you’ve got to study for your potions exam, I don’t care how you did on your last one.”

You shake your head, helping Cho pick up all the pillows and put them back where she took them from. “Absolutely not, I am not spending the first Saturday of snow season in the dungeon. Potter and his friends are taking me to Hogsmeade this afternoon. Would you like to come with us?”

She looks at you knowingly, raising her eyebrows. “Potter? What do you think I’m going to say?”

You look confused for a moment before catching up with what she’s implying. “Ohhh,” you nod, smiling a little. “Yeah, that would be incredibly awkward. It’s for the best, I’m sure you’d much rather spend all day trying to get that Pepperup potion to not blow up in your face like it did yesterday.” You smile as you think of how red her face got, from the embarrassment and from the rich color of the potion. You had to guide her down the halls past snickering first years as she held her book bag over her face. You spent hours scrubbing the redness off her face, which only irritated her skin more.

“Oh, drop it,” she mutters, but you can see the smile creeping onto her features. “My face still hurts so bad, but you did help me when I needed you… and I guess I should thank you…”

You smile back, taking a seat on your bed. “You’re welcome, and there’s no need to be ashamed. One little potion explosion isn’t going to ruin your life. Trust me, I’ve been through far more embarrassing moments.” You stand up, sighing as you still see how embarrassed she was. “Okay fine. We’ll go down to breakfast and I’ll help you figure out how to make the potion, but I have a hard stop at one o’clock. Sounds good?”

Cho nods, smiling back. “You’re the best, I wouldn’t be asking for your help if I didn’t desperately need it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me,” you tease her, “I already know.”

Students crowd the Great Hall, most of them eating their breakfast while huddling around the frosty windows. “See, Cho, the snow is magnificent over here.”

“Never said it wasn’t, I just said that you shouldn’t risk your life to see it,” she sighs, sitting down at the Ravenclaw table. “We have perfectly good windows on the ground level.”

“Oh no, Y/N is right,” you hear as you take a seat, and you smile to see Luna push herself into the conversation. “Your dormitory has that cement wall in front of the window, which blocks the view. I was actually the first to climb up there, Padma practiced her levitation spell on me to get me down safely.”

Cho looks at you with her eyebrows raised. “Where did you think I got the idea from?” you smile back, shrugging.

Luna smiles as she takes a bite of her pumpkin pasty. “That’s why I had a scar on my cheek last year. Padma is awful at levitation,” she giggles, glancing around for a moment to make sure the Patil sisters aren’t around.

“That’s for sure. You need to lighten up a little, Cho, we only have a few more years left here. Where else can you get free crumpets every morning?” you smile at her, taking one from the basket. “Let’s just eat on the way to-”

“Where are you off to, Y/N? You didn’t even say hello,” you hear from behind you, a pair of hands resting on your shoulders. Blaise. Usually, you’d be disgusted, but you were used to the boy behind you by now.

Blaise Zabini had been chasing you since your first year at Hogwarts, and you never were really able to escape him. The game of hard-to-get you’d play with him was exhausting, and somehow he never let up.

Frankly, you didn’t really care much for him. Yes, he was sometimes kind and was probably wealthy, and he was one of the most handsome guys at Hogwarts… but he could be an outright prick to your friends. Especially your muggle-born friends.

“None of your business,” you mutter with a small smile, but you can tell he would just ignore what you were saying.

“I don’t know about that,” he responds, and you feel a cold, thin chain slide against your neck. “I got you a present, I’d love for you to wear it this morning at the quidditch match.” You look down to see a bright green gem resting against your chest, held up by the necklace he clasps in the back. “Don’t you love it?”

You smile, still confused. “I do,” you say back, trying to sound convincing as you twirl the gem in your fingers.

“No reason… it’s just beautiful, isn’t it? Thought of you when I found it. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, watching him saunter out of the Great Hall. “We are not going anywhere near that quidditch match,” you tell your friends once Zabini is far away, too far to hear anything you could say.

You walk with Cho down to the dungeons to see Professor Snape, a crumpet still in her hand. Reaching the door of the potions classroom, you notice it’s open.

“Come in.” Snape is just around the corner, oddly in his classroom on a Saturday. To be fair, you’re there on a Saturday. “What do you ladies need from me?”

You inch Cho further into the classroom, rolling your eyes at her fear of Snape. “Good morning, professor, Cho and I were just going to practice the Petterup recipe we did yesterday, I know she can get it perfect.”

He nods, looking up from the paper he was reading. “Very well. I’m sure with your help, it won’t be as disastrous as last time.” He eyes Cho, who blushes a bit. Almost as if it was on cue, she accidentally drops the crumpet into a nearby pot filled with an orange potion. The substance boils over instantly, spilling out and onto the floor. Snape sighs quite loudly, clearly annoyed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go grab some towels to clean up. Start gathering the ingredients, I’ll help you in a moment,” you tell Cho, making your way back out the door.

“Storage closet, just down the hall on your left,” Snape mutters, focusing on his paper.

You listen to Professor Snape’s instructions, getting closer and closer to the Slytherin common room. You open the storage closet, grabbing a few white fluffy towels before closing it. When you do, a familiar face suddenly appears.

“Malfoy!” you jump, gasping as you drop the towels in your hands. He laughs hysterically at you, grabbing the one towel at his feet and letting you do the rest.

“You scare so easily, that’s quite fun!”

Malfoy could be an even bigger problem to you than Zabini. Though they both had the same mind sometimes, treating you the same way, Blaise was working off of practically nothing. You couldn’t deny the way Draco made you feel, butterflies in your stomach whenever he would have a long conversation with you. And he knew that; boy, did he! He could tease you all day if he wanted to.

You sigh as you close the door to the closet, looking at him. “What exactly do you want?”

Instead of answering you, his eyes trail down your chest to the emerald. The one Blaise just got you. “Is that new?” Before you say anything, his hand reaches to touch the gem. He plays with it in his hand, just as you had fiddled with it earlier.

“Yes, it actually is. Isn’t it pretty? I held it up to the light earlier, and…”

“Who gave it to you?” You look into his eyes, seeing him staring right back into yours. He’s serious, and you can feel him practically pulling on the necklace.

You tug the gem out of his grasp as you hold the towels in one hand, slowly backing away. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” The potions classroom is just a few doors down, I just need to…

He rolls his eyes, moving towards you faster than you had anticipated. “I very much would like to know, why don’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s a secret, just let it go,” you counter, backing up more. You could see the fire in his eyes, the way his eyes almost bore into your skin.

“Just. Tell. Me.” His voice drips of jealousy, and you can’t help but smile.

You sigh. “Fine, but don’t get too upset. Blaise gave it to me this morning at breakfast, he said-”

“Blaise?!” His eyebrows raised as he stopped walking. “What, is he your new boyfriend now?”

You roll your eyes, holding the towels tighter. “Shut up, Malfoy, you know he’s not! He’s your best friend anyway; if he was, you should be happy for him.”

Draco looks as if he could hunt down Blaise, if given the chance. “If he was a true friend, he’d stay away from my girl.”

“Your girl?!” you echo him, looking as though he had slapped you in the face. It felt like it, too; his words stung as soon as they left his mouth. “Absolutely not, you can’t just pretend like you own me.”

“I’m not pretending.” He loves to get you angry, and he can see you unravelling before him. “You’ll see, we’re meant to be together.”

You roll your eyes. “You cocky prick. This isn’t over.”

“Where did Y/N go? The closet isn’t that far,” you hear Snape tell Cho. Your eyes widen as you turn and start to run, the gem hitting your chest a few times. In that instant, you run into the classroom.

“Sorry Professor, Draco was just helping me with the towels,” you explain when Draco enters behind you. His eyes go wide as he sees Snape looking at him, and he quickly hands you to the towel. “You’ve got to get to the quidditch pitch, the game starts soon,” you remind him.

“Right. I’ll see you there, Y/N,” he teases, heading out of the room rather quickly.

You turn to Cho and see her station covered in red liquid. Again. “We’re making progress,” Snape utters. “She learned how to move out of the way this time.”

You spent the entire morning with Cho trying to perfect the potion, and, finally, she made a mixture that wouldn’t blow up in her face. It made smoke come out of her ears when she tasted it, and it cured the sore throat she had told you about earlier.

Bidding Professor Snape goodbye, the two of you rushed down to the quidditch pitch to watch the match. It was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, a rivalry that was entertaining and exciting every time one could watch it.

The quidditch pitch, like everything else, was covered in a thin layer of white. The snowing had halted, but the snow-covered ground made for a fun match.

Taking a seat in the Ravenclaw stands, you look up at the players. You eye Blaise waving at you from near one of the hoops, catching the Quaffle and instantly tossing it into one of Gryffindor’s hoops. They were now up by 140 points, so close to being completely in the lead.

You turn your head to see Draco and Harry Potter neck and neck, whirring around the stadium. The golden snitch flickers right in front of them, both of their hands outstretched to try and grab it. You notice how close Draco is to grabbing it, and you decide to toy with him a little. You had bet on Gryffindor winning, and you weren’t about to lose “Go Draco!” you yell as loud as you possibly can, figuring he wouldn’t be able to hear you from so far away.

But he does.

He perks his head up, hearing you shout for him, and Harry takes the lead in their chase. Just when Draco tries to catch up, a bludger hits him right in the side of the head.

You don’t hear much from the crowd when it happens. They’re more focused on the Gryffindor goal that just was tossed into the hoop. Cheers from your section filled the arena, but you didn’t see Draco get back up. “I’ll be right back, Cho,” you tell her, setting down your binoculars and running down the steps.

You reach the edge of the arena, slipping through the Slytherin tent. Draco lays on the snow-covered ground, almost unconscious as he groans in pain. “Y/N, is that you?” he asks, coughing a little.

“Draco! Are you okay? Can you hear me? What the hell happened?” You run to his side, picking him up just a little and making sure he’s partially upright.

He seethes in pain, shaking his head. “No no no, don’t do that, that hurts.” His eyes open as he looks at you. “Why’d you cheer for me?”

You smile a little. No, you are not about to be honest with him. You are not about to tell him that you were trying to distract him so Harry could get to the golden snitch first. He could pass out at any second, and you realize he might not remember what you say. “Because I’m your best girl,” you explain, and you see him crack a smile before closing his eyes.

“Yeah you are,” he mumbles as his body goes limp in your arms.

You look up, hearing the rest of the arena cheer. “Gryffindor seeker Harry Potter has just found the Golden Snitch! This puts the Gryffindor team in the lead, 350 points over Slytherin’s 330 points. Gryffindor wins!” Thankfully, Draco couldn’t hear that.

Calling over Madame Pomfrey, you make sure Draco is on the stretcher headed to the infirmary. As everyone comes down off the bleachers to celebrate, you eye Harry, Ron and Hermione coming towards you. “You ready to go to Hogsmeade, Y/N? It’ll be a celebration for that amazing win,” Hermione says excitedly. Yeah, a win that you caused.

“Oh I’m sorry dear, Y/N needs to stay with me,” you hear Madame Pomfrey say as she ensures that Draco is strapped on tightly to the stretcher. “She is my assistant, after all; this is the worst injury we’ve had in a while and I need all the help I can get.”

You look at Hermione as she frowns a bit. “Okay, no problem. We’ll miss you, Y/N, but we’ll see you later.” She walks off, smiling as she takes Harry and Ron towards Hogsmeade.

Madame Pomfrey takes your arm, bringing you with her towards the infirmary. She wheels Draco’s stretcher along in front of her, and you gaze at his closed eyes. You hadn’t meant to hurt him, just distract him for a moment. It wasn’t your fault the Weasley twins were such good beaters. You’d won the bet, but at what cost? “He’ll be alright, won’t he?” you ask Madam Pomfrey, not taking your eyes off him.

You can feel her smile. She has been like your mother away from home, someone kind yet honest to spend your spare time with. She wouldn’t lie. “Yes, of course, it wasn't our first bludger-to-the-head incident, far from it. He just needs some rest and care over the next few days, but he will be up and playing in no time.” You smile at that, relief washing over you. He might be cocky and stubborn, but he would be okay.

A rustle of the sheets catches your attention, and you look up as Draco starts to sit up. He groans from the pain, holding his head as he lays back down.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you smile as you walk up next to his bed, and a smile forms on his face when you come into view. “How are you feeling, a little better, I hope?”

Draco just beams up at you for a moment as you apply a hot compress on his forehead. “Thank you, I’m feeling much better. You really are a good nurse’s assistant,” he adds on, and you smile at that. He had made fun of you for getting the job, saying that you’d never work hard enough to be good at it. Now here you are, and he has offered you praise.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” you tease back, and he rolls his eyes when you keep your hand on his forehead. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy this Draco, but you’re just a bit off. I love the way you get jealous and rather cocky, I-”

“You love me,” he breathes out suddenly, and your eyebrows raise. “I didn’t think you even cared for me at all but I can see it in your eyes… you love me,” he smiles.

You press the hot cloth on a few more places along his face before pulling it away, setting it down. “You really think so?” you try to stay confident, not wanting him to see through your facade just yet. “Keep dreaming, Malfoy.”

“But you said it,” he argues, reaching his hand up to grip yours for a moment. “You said that you were my girl, you said it on the quidditch pitch.” Shit. He remembered. “Don’t tell me that was a lie, that was the most sincere thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“So what if it wasn’t?” You move your hand out of his grasp, standing up to get a few bandages for his face.

He sighs as you come back, unwrapping a few bandages and starting to patch him up. He reaches his hand up, yanking the necklace Blaise had gotten you right off your neck. You gasp as you try to stop him, but he’s far from stopping himself. “Then we’ve got to let this prick know that you’re my love, not his, not anyone else’s. Here.”

He shifts a bit as he reaches his arms back, taking off a medallion that had been around his neck. “What’s this?”

A smile takes over his features once more, and he silently puts it around your neck. “The Malfoy family crest. Wear it with pride, because I love you.”

a/n: like, comment, reblog, and/or give me your feedback!! love you all, have an amazing night x <3

Attachment

gif from @bestintheparsec

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

word count: 6.5

rating: e (minors take a hike dni)

song inspo: what once was by her’s

summary: the mandalorian confides with you about something that’s been weighing heavily on his mind and you remind him of what truly matters

warnings: tbobf spoilers, slight angst, language, tension™️, smut, thigh riding, improper use of beskar armor, fingering, praise kink, piv unprotected sex (wrap it up), mild dom/sub

author’s note: y’all asked for a part two for Distraction and i did👏🏽not👏🏽hesitate👏🏽 to write this. this takes place between ep 5 and 6 of tbobf and goes a tiny bit divergent. plus din deserves a lil tlc for what he’s been through and i’ve been dipping my fingers into writing smut so i hope you guys enjoy! 👌🏽✨

He comes and goes. You don’t see him often and you try not to care too much. But each time, he’s away longer and stays shorter. Having no idea when his next visit comes. Which would be fine, if the times he was here weren’t so… confusing.

Sure, you flirted and he flirted back. But nothing really happened. It was harmless fun. And it’s not like you were twiddling your thumbs waiting for him. You had a life. Albeit, a steady life with not much room for excitement. You went out occasionally, went to cantinas and let people buy you drinks. You never went home with anyone though. And you’ve been ignoring the reason why.

It’s not like you were saving yourself. You’re not waiting around for him to sweep you off your feet. There have been plenty of advances from strangers and you’ve maybe entertained the notion of having a roll in the sand with someone. But you haven’t. You can’t. They’re not him.

You throw yourself into your work, giving yourself hardly anytime for intrusive thinking. Peli doesn’t necessarily spare you work, but even she tries to relieve you of busy work that doesn’t need immediate attention. Calling it “droid work.”

“I don’t mind,” you lie, “more experience.”

It’s been 6 months since the test flight. Since you’ve been off-planet. Since he touched you the way he did that late night building the starfighter. He comes once in a while for repairs and maintenance. The repairs are always minor and take less than a day, which makes you wonder why he wouldn’t just put it off. He’s a busy man, and he doesn’t need to come as often as he does. So why does he bother?

He’s always respectful and stoic and still always so serious, it makes you laugh to yourself. You’ve gotten to know him over time. Learning about his travels, how much he loved the crest despite it being a wreck most of the time. But mostly he talked about his kid. How he found him, his powers, his insatiable hunger which made you laugh. Each story he told you made you feel… transported. You felt the excitement, the danger, and you found yourself replaying them in your mind when you couldn’t sleep. Which confronted you with a hard truth.

The Mandalorian was more often than not that last thing you thought of before falling asleep.

•

The music blares from your stereo, the sound fills the entire garage at full blast as you work. The table it rests on rumbles with each beat, rattling loose tools and bolts and you’re in your own world. You got it in a trade a few months ago from some Jawas in exchange for some spare parts and it hasn’t seen a day without use. It helps you focus on your work and shut out your thoughts.

The speeder you’re working on has been a bitch to repair. You’re half covered in grease, the top of your coveralls rolled down to your waist, pulling out corroded parts from underneath. It’s nearing the end of the day and you’re dying for a break. If you could just…get this… damn… bolt…out…

The rusty bolt breaks loose without warning and oil comes pouring out, splashing thickly onto your tank top. You let out a curse, quickly crawling out of the way and setting the bucket next to you under the stream. You rise to your feet and groan in frustration. “Fuck this speeder!” You blurt out. You look down to your chest covered in thick black oil, long burnt inside the oil pan, the pungent smell burns the hairs in your nose. Shit. It was one of your favorites, too…

The garage is an open space but there’s no one here with you. So, you don’t think twice about taking off your shirt, no rag is gonna save it. Once over your head, you toss it across the room , exposing just the black breast band around your torso. You sigh as you walk to the table and look for another bolt and a matching wrench to cap the oil pan once it finishes draining. You figure that’s enough work for today. The owner won’t come for another couple days anyway. And Peli won’t be back until-

A hand brushes your arm from behind and your adrenaline spikes. Grabbing the heavy wrench, you twist around ready to swing hard when a firm leather hand grips your wrist to a halt above your head. You freeze and all you see is silver.

“Good to see you, too!” Mando shouts over the loud music.

You exhale deeply. Your tense muscles feel they’re about to give out completely. Maker, you hate when he does that. He releases your wrist and you quickly turn off your stereo.

“You have one more time to fucking scare me like that,” you huff, still trying to catch your breath. He just blows a laugh through his nose.

“Sorry, I just landed a minute ago,” and he points his thumb behind him. You lean to the side to peek behind his shoulder and, sure enough, you see the N-1 parked on the far side of the hangar. How the hell did you miss that?

“I tried yelling but you seemed…,” Distracted? “…busy.” And he does that signature tilt of his helmet and your chest aches.

You chuckle, trying to seem like you got your head screwed on right. “So,” you twist around to the work table, dropping the wrench, “what’d you break this time, shiny?” Grabbing a rag, you try to wipe off some of the grease and oil from your arms, only for it to spread around more.

“Nothing this time,” he leans back against the nose of the speeder and crosses his arms. “I have business in Mos Espa tomorrow and I thought I’d pay you a visit.” Pay you a visit? No business?

“Peli isn’t here,” you keep your focus on scrubbing your arms. “She had some business on the other side of town. Won’t be back for a couple days.” You decidedly give up on cleaning yourself, tossing the rag on the table and turning to face him with a hand on your hip.

And he’s silent again. His crossed arms make his shoulders look broader. He keeps his visor on you, tilting his helmet curiously to the side. Is he gonna say something? You give him a half-smile and raise your eyebrows slightly, signaling to him that you’re waiting for a response.

“You dress like that often?”

Your cheeks flush. Not at your starkness, but the fact that he’s pointed it out to you makes you wonder how long he’s been watching you. How long was he standing there? Was he there watching when you peeled that tank top off? It’s not like he’s averting his eyes from you at all. He’s not shy about it. And neither are you.

“Oh,” you look down at your torso, pretending you completely forgot. You start pulling up the top part of your worn grey coveralls and place the short sleeves back on your shoulders, but you don’t bother to zip it closed.

“Not really,” you tease, “just for well paying customers.” A mischievous smile crosses your lips and it’s only then that he looks away and chuckles to himself. Hearing that sweet sound makes you realize how much you really missed him.

You take a seat next to him on the speeder, resting your arms behind you on the hood. You chew over what to say but Mando beats you to it. “It’s been a while,” he starts, “everything ok?” He sounds suddenly stern. The air becomes heavy, like you both know the answer. Your legs kick as they dangle from the edge.

“Things are pretty dangerous around here.” Your eyes are cast downward. “It’s not safe to go out at night with the Pykes around. They’re relentless, things won’t go back to normal until they’re gone.”

“Are you safe?” The words leave his mouth without hesitation. He faces you and gently places his hand on top of yours, trying to convey how important your answer is to him. After a few moments, your name slips past his lips and your whole being is softened.

“I’m a big girl, Mando. I can protect myself.” Taking his hand in yours, your thumb runs over his knuckles, the leather worn and soft.

“I know you can.” he speaks softly. Both of you, looking at the hands between you. Your hands mix and run over each other for a while. Enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence. His gloves are getting a little dirty from the oil, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Tell me about you,” you sigh, “Anything new?” Mando pauses. After a beat, he turns away and releases a sigh that makes your heart sink. Damn, that bad huh?

“Maker, it sounds like you need a drink,” you quip. He breathes a laugh through his nose and gives your hand a loving squeeze.

“I won’t say no to that,” he admits. You can hear his smile and, even though you can’t see it, it makes your own lips curl up. You slide off the hood of the speeder and turn on your heels to face him, patting the dust off your pants.

“There’s some cold ale in Peli’s office,” you offer. “It’s nothing fancy but it’s the only cold thing we’ve got besides water.” Mando nods then stands up straight to face you, sticking his thumb through the front of his belt. His helmet tilts down to you and his whole frame makes you feel so small. From his broad shoulders to his inky black visor peering down to you.

“I’m just… gonna grab a shower first. I’ll be back with the ales.” Looking up to his visor like this fills you with a weird mixture of timidness and excitement. And that familiar spark starts to burn in the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll wait here for you.”

A warm, gloved hand finds purchase under the curve of your chin and your stomach flips. And instantly you’re back in that cockpit months ago, aching for his fingers to wander around your throat. It’s always so hard when he does things like this.

“Kay’…,” you breathe. You smile warmly, holding the same hand and squeezing it. You almost want to cry as you pull away.

•

“I saw Grogu.”

Your head snaps to his direction. Mando looks forward with empty eyes. His thumb runs circles over the spout of the amber bottle in his hand.

You don’t remember exactly when this little ritual began. It just got comfortable enough between the two of you to share a drink together once in a while with his helmet removed. Usually, when it was after dark or behind closed doors. But these moments are held close to your chest. You felt honored to have earned his trust.

It’s past sunset. The burning orange sky now a hazy purple like smoke from a snuffed flame. You both sit back in the same garage on some crates arranged into some seats and a table. The “table” is littered with sabacc cards left behind by Peli and a few empty bottles of ale. The only source of light coming from a small metal fire pit. The fire crackles and pops as you and the Mandalorian sit side by side and talk.

After you cleaned up, you didn’t bother with your regular day clothes. Opting for comfort, since the day was over, you pulled on some soft shorts and a tank top. A warm wool blanket drapes over your shoulders and your bare toes dig into the sand.

“When?” Your voice is timid and low. It takes Mando a moment to answer. “‘Few months ago.” His voice doesn’t falter or waver. And, that’s what breaks your heart. Hiding his emotions has become a skill he’s perfected. A few months? Months he’s been keeping that inside?

“He didn’t see me,” he continues, taking another long swig of ale.

You search his eyes for an answer but his focus remains forward. As if locking eyes with you will crumble whatever wall he’s built to protect himself.

“Are you ok?” You regret your question almost instantly. Kind of an inconsiderate thing to say when the wound is open. How the fuck do you think? But he remains quiet. Probably still trying to figure out the answer for himself.

“What happened?” Your tone is hushed. You almost don’t want to ask him. You don’t want to overstep yourself. But it’s so clear that he’s been keeping something like this inside for far too long.

“In order to master his abilities, Jedi must forgo all attachment,” his words sound rehearsed, almost recited. “As much as I wanted to see him, I can’t ignore the fact that he’s safer with them.”

Your fingers grip around your bottle so tightly your knuckles almost turn white. He can’t think that’s true. It’s not.

“But, you love him,” you murmur. To you the words slip out so freely, it’s an easy equation. You don’t let go of the things you love. But he doesn’t turn. He doesn’t fight. His eyes just look down ahead of him.

“He’s better off.” Liar.

“No,” you blurt out, “That’s not true.” The words are out of your big mouth before you realize. And suddenly, you don’t give a shit about overstepping. You set your bottle on the crate and stand up in front of him, forcing him to face you.

“You are the one that saved him. You are the one who protected him. You were the only one that was there for him.” His eyes are blown wide as he watches you go off on your rant. “How can they take him and talk to you about attachment?” His fist clenches and his brows knot tightly.

“It was his choice, I can’t control-“

“Then they should give him that choice too. He’s just a child,” you plead. You don’t know why you’re so passionate about the subject. You have met neither Grogu nor any Jedi. But you have to believe that attachment isn't a weakness. You have to believe that Mando doesn’t think that.

“What about your creed? What about loyalty? You need. To go. Back.”

He bolts up. His figure looms over you with his chest puffed. You can practically see steam blow out his nostrils. His demeanor makes you freeze for a moment, but you’re stubborn. Finding your metal, you stand your ground.

“You don’t talk to me about my creed,” he snarls. His seething expression is something you hoped to never see. However unrealistic it may sound. But his eyes. His eyes betray him. You step closer to him as you continue to search into them, to beseech to him. He exhales sharply through his nose. His gloved hand rests on the base of your neck underneath the blanket still draped on your frame. Running his thumb on the side of your throat, like an apology.

“You are the last person I want to hurt,” his voice is low and hoarse and plunges through your chest like a knife. His jaw tenses, he tries to speak through his gritted teeth. “So, please… I need to do something right for once.” He’s at war with himself, it’s plain as day.

Calmly, your hands slowly lift up, resting your hands on his arm. His chest is still puffed but his temper diminishes. You let out a sigh that’s been stuck in your throat. You’re so tired. You have so many questions that you need answered and it’s impossible to ignore anymore.

“Then why are you here?” Am I still just your distraction? “Why do you come here and drink with me and touch me and… and…,” And leave. You release a shaky breath. “What are we doing, Mando?” Each word is more hushed than the last. Maker, you hate this. You hate feeling so vulnerable. Feeling your eyes sting, you bow your head down. Him seeing you cry just might kill you.

You give in and lean your forehead to his chest right above his cuirass. Feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. His fingers gently rub the back of your neck, the scent of his cape kisses your nose and you hate him. You really fucking hate him.

Mando exhales through his nose. You can feel the muscles in his arm tense just above his vambrace. For a while, all that’s heard in the air is the crackling of wood burning. After a few moments, he finally finds his words. “I just…need to protect you. I’ve lost my kid and my creed. I can’t lose you too.“

A ball lodges in your throat. Even after he pauses, you remain silent, waiting for him to continue. He’s always been so serious and you’d normally make fun of him for it. But you’ve never seen him so earnest.

“I’m a selfish man ,” he goes on, “And you deserve more. And If I’m not good enough for the kid then-“

“Stop,” you cut him off. It takes every bit of strength inside you to pull away from him but you do. His gloved hand moves to cup your jaw and your hand caresses the sliver of skin exposed underneath.

“You make it sound like everything is already decided,” the words spill freely from your lips and you’re not stopping, you can’t.

“I know you’re hurting. But I also know you don’t believe that being attached is a weakness. It’s not in your nature. It hurts because you’re important to each other. And you’re both going to wonder what could’ve been for the rest of your lives. You need to talk to him. Or it’ll be your biggest regret.”

And then it hits you like a fucking gut punch.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

His warm brown eyes are locked on to yours. Your neck cranes to match his attention and you’re completely frozen. His hand stalls beneath your jaw and you’re practically chest to chest. Your words were so blurred and you realize now that you hadn’t said Grogu’s name at all during your little speech. You really were speaking from the heart. His eyes grow wider with the realization. Are you talking to him or yourself?

Your cheeks are flushed red and your mouth is open before you can think. “For Grogu!” You stammer, the last thing you want him to think is that you’ve completely forgotten about his son. “You need to talk to Grogu! I mean if you think… if you feel like that with… I just want you to know that-“

Mando cuts you off mid sentence. It’s so quick that your mind takes a second to catch up. But without warning, his lips crash onto yours and it’s bliss. It’s gentle and warm and everything you’ve been craving since he first walked into your life. You melt under him and he cradles your head with both hands like you might slip through his fingers. You give in and move your lips against his. He tastes so fucking good. You can even taste the ale he was just drinking. Your lips meld and mix perfectly together, moving in perfect unison. And you absolutely adore the way his stubble scratches your skin. His lips pull away with a pop and your breath is completely taken away. He rests his forehead on yours, catching his own breath. The loose curls of his hair tickle your skin.

“You’re fucking irresistible when you ramble like that,” he huffs, his voice turned low and raspy and it sends a shiver up your spine. His words make you so weak and you can’t handle it anymore. And the spark burns into an inferno.

Your arms snake their way up his chest and around his neck, effectively pulling him down to you. Your lips meet again with fervor as the wool blanket on your shoulders drops to the floor. His hands leave you and you whine into his open mouth. He desperately removes his gloves and tosses them to where the drinks stand forgotten on the table. His bare hands glide underneath the hem of your tank top and grip onto the flesh of your waist. The sensation makes you both groan. His tongue licks the seam of your lips, asking for permission. You welcome him and if you thought he tasted good before, you’re about to eat him alive now. He kisses you like he’s fucking starved to taste you.

He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and lands on the plains of your neck. Gently sucking and nipping at the sensitive area as his hands knead your waist. Heat pools between your legs and all you can do is surrender yourself to him.

“You took so long,” you mewl. You thread your fingers through his soft curls and fist his hair when he pinches the skin of your neck between his teeth, he hisses at the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs between kisses, “I’ll make it up to you.” His voice rumbles through your entire being. You can feel his grin against your skin and suddenly you feel like you're in danger. In the best possible way.

He bends down, his hands run below the curve of your ass, and scoops you up by your thighs with ease, you gasp in surprise. Instinctually, you wrap your legs around his hips crossing your ankles at his lower back. You laugh against his lips as he takes his seat back on the crate. Without breaking away from the kiss, he hooks his hand under the bend of your knee, positioning you to straddle his beskar clad thigh. You hiss at the cold contact between your legs even through your shorts. You’re about to ask what it is he wants exactly until Mando’s strong hands grab handfuls of your ass with a good squeeze. And you can’t even form thoughts in your head let alone remember your question.

Then everything slows to a crawl. And you’re drunk in each other’s presence. Your eyelids are heavy with lust. And his gaze is fixed on your flushed face. He’s completely silent aside from his heavy breaths through his slightly open lips. Gods, his lips. They’re plush and raw from kissing you. Your hands tangle through his dark hair. A bit shaggy and long and so soft you could get lost in it for hours. He presses a soft slow kiss to your lips and you’re drowsy with affection.

“You look so beautiful right now, you know that?” His breath brushes on your cheeks. Something inside you shatters. Maybe it’s your pride. Or maybe it’s the wall you built to protect yourself from being hurt. But you crumble above him. Not even able to look him in the eyes as your cheeks burn red. ‘Beautiful’ isn’t something you’ve been called since… you can’t even remember when. One of your hands leaves his shoulder to cover your face from your cheeks to your ears and your eyes turn away.

“What?,” he asks softly. A slight amusement laces his voice. “You’re so shy now, when you just told me off a minute ago?” He murmurs against your ears and you continue to fall apart. Gently, he takes his hand and places it on top of the one that rests on your face, guiding it back to face him directly.

“Don’t look away, pretty girl,” you melt hearing his little nickname for you, the same words he said that late night when you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other.

“Please,” you whisper. You’re not sure what you're asking for exactly. Maybe just an end to your misery. Your pupils are blown wide underneath your heavy lashes and your head is foggy. You need him.

“Please what?” His voice is gruff. He presses delicate wet kisses along your jaw. You turn to kiss his mouth but he pulls away just before you reach him and you whine in protest. Your hands cradle the sides of his neck as he continues. And he breathes out your name against your hot skin.

“Please, Mando-“

“Din”

Your entire body stills. You’re silent, waiting for another response but it doesn’t come. Gliding your thumb along the line of his jaw, your mouth opens to speak but nothing comes. Is that…is that his name?

“Din?” You sigh, tasting the word in your mouth and your heart swells. He’s giving you his name. Earning another piece of him, like when he removed his helmet to you the first time. You repeat it, getting used to the feeling, and his chest puffs with pride. His hands flex tightly at your hips. He likes when you say it.

“Fuck,” he grits through his teeth, his large frame cages you in and you feel like you’re being enveloped in him. Your hips buck forward, whimpering at the friction of your pulsing clit against his thigh. “Tell me what you want,” he urges.

“Keep touching me,” you choke out. Rolling your hips again, you find relief only for a moment before you’re aching for more. The metal beneath now warmed from your heat. “Anywhere.” He doesn’t hesitate to oblige.

His left arm wraps around your hips, urging you to tilt back slightly. With his right, he yanks the bottom of your shirt up to your collarbone, exposing your breasts. Taking one in his hand, Din squeezes and pulls until you're writhing above him. Running his thumb over your pebbled nipples. You moan at the sensation and you can’t stop yourself from slowly grinding against his holy armor. Gripping his shoulders to hold you steady against him.

“Don’t stop,” he pants, “Take what you want, pretty girl.” He even matches the pace of your hips with his kneading. Perfectly content watching you chase your pleasure. Fuck, If anyone walked in this hangar right now…

He takes your mouth again, biting and licking as you pant for air. The arm around your waist pushes and pulls to your rhythm, encouraging you to move faster and harder. Your shorts are soaked through, since you didn’t opt for underwear after your shower, and you practically glide on top of him with how slick you are. He swipes his thumb over your peaks again and again until you feel your orgasm cresting deep inside you.

Out of nowhere, Din bounces his leg, making you bounce along with the movement and the beskar presses hard against your clit. Your breath is caught in your throat and stars fill your vision from the over sensitivity. You gasp against his mouth and he just smiles, feeling so fucking proud of himself. Bastard.

“Do that again,” you pant. He’s quick to respond, bouncing his leg harder this time and watching shamelessly at the way your tits bounce along. “Again,” you moan. And you both reach a rhythm of bouncing and grinding that sends you into a frenzy.

“Din… Din, please…,” you beg and cry his name over and over and he’s desperate to keep drawing those pretty noises from you. He dives down, taking your breast in his hot mouth and you sob. Sucking and flicking your pert nipples with his tongue. Groaning at the sweet taste of your sweat and the smell of your soap. The sight alone is about to send you over the edge. Your hips falter, you’re desperate for release. It’s right there, right there, right there…

“Oh fuck…fuck,” you cry out, white hot heat washes over your body as you cum hard, making a mess on top of him. A shrill moan escapes from deep within you and echoes in the garage. You plunge your face into the crook of his neck, moaning into his cape as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm. You’re both spent, breathing heavily into each other in tempo. He rubs your bare back as you come down your high, dragging his nails lightly across your skin and you melt at the gesture.

He drags his hand up to the base of your neck and threads his fingers through your hair. You hum in delight, loving the slow paced caresses after such an intense climax. You want to return the attention. With your head laying on Din’s shoulder, you reach between the two of you, grazing your hand down his cuirass slowly until you reach his groin. He’s painfully hard from just from watching you fuck his thigh. You palm him over his flight suit and he twitches beneath your hand, letting out a deep, throaty moan. You instantly smile, wanting to hear him more so you give him a firm squeeze and his hips buck against you.

He groans your name into your shoulder, pulling you impossibly close. “I need you.”

“I’m all yours,” you breathe, pressing sweet pecks along his jawline.

“Where’s your bed,” he growls against your ear and you shiver. You quickly give him a peck on the cheek as you try to rise to your feet. Wobbling a little bit before standing up straight, adjusting your shirt and shorts. You catch a glimpse of him right before he stands and your mouth fucking waters at the sight of his cock imprinted on his pants. The length of him reaching damn near his mid-thigh. You did that.

It’s the longest walk of your life making your way across the hangar. You're buzzing with anticipation, and he hasn’t even taken his hands off you the entire time. Going past the little office and the common area, you finally come to your room. The only privacy being two cloth curtains that drape to the floor. You’re pushed inside and he’s back on you. Kissing you within an inch of your life, running his hands up and down your body. You respond in kind.

The room is lit only from a few hangar lights that filter in from a small window facing outside. Some crates and parts are scattered along the walls of what was originally a storage room. But you’ve made it your own. The evidence of your personality everywhere, adorning the walls and few pieces of furniture with different objects of interest and curiosities. Both you make your way to the bed that rests against the far wall by the head.

Kissing along his jawline, your fingers tug on his cuirass. You look up at him with doe eyes, asking for permission. He nods, taking your hands and resting them on the beskar, guiding you where to detach them. He briefly asks if you’re safe and you nod in return without hesitation. You take your time removing each piece of armor and setting them gently on a chair adjacent to the bed. Laying them down with respect one by one, then his cape until just his flight suit remains.

As much as he appreciates the sentiment, Din is all too eager to taste you again. His hands find the bend of your knees and swiftly pull back, making you fall flat on your back upon the bed. Kicking off his boots, he’s on top of you in an instant. It’s chaos trying to remove each other’s clothes. With each piece thrown aside without care, kissing and licking the exposed skin until you’re both bare.

He slips his hand between your legs as he flicks his tongue with yours, gliding his middle fingers along the seam of your wet heat. You’re spiraling underneath him. You cry out when the pads of his fingers press slow circles on your puffy clit. He groans at how slick you feel on his hand. “Fuck,” he grits out, “You’re pretty everywhere.” His pace is slow but steady and you’re fucking dying to be filled with him already.

“Always wanted you like this,” he confesses. He plunges his thick fingers into your needy cunt until his knuckles brush your entrance, curling his fingers expertly against your walls and all you can do is fist the sheets and cry his name like a prayer. Your eyes close shut and your brow furrows tightly. “Wanted to bend you over that speeder when I saw you. Looking fucking beautiful with all that grease on you.” His length is pressed hard against the side of your hips, trying not to buck but he can’t help himself whenever you say his name.

The sheets aren’t enough to hold onto. You’re desperate to cling onto something, anything. Your hands fly to his back, strong and muscular and ripe for scratching. You dig in your fingers and drag your nails harshly down to his lower back and then press a long sweet kiss upon his shoulder. A raw guttural moan leaves his throat and he thrusts hard against your hip before he can stop it, completely floored by the duality of your actions.

“Please,” you whine, your voice is so hoarse it almost hurts to speak. “I need to feel you. I need it.” You’re so fucking hungry for him, you’ve waited so long for this, to be as close as possible with him. He leaves your heat and grabs your legs with both hands. Ripping your knees apart wider, he positions himself over you and his cock finds your entrance like a fucking magnet. He plunges into you and you both groan low and loud, throwing your head back in ecstasy as he splits you in two.

“Fuck- Din!” you cry out.

“I got you… I got you,” he voice falters as he huffs your name against your ear. “You feel so good.”

He stretches your walls impossibly but you have a vice grip on him that sends him spiraling. Every muscle in his body feels tight as he tries not to spill everything he has inside you right now. He rocks shallow thrusts into you until he’s buried inside you to the hilt. Gods, there’s more?

You lock your ankles together at the small of his back, nudging him to move. Pressing little wet kisses along your jaw and up to your mouth, he kisses you deeply as he pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in completely. You gasp against his lips but he cuts it off with another heated kiss. You feel so full of him as sets a pace, he bottoms out with each thrust. You’re definitely going to be sore tomorrow and you can’t wait.

His arms cage you in, propping himself above you by his elbows. He picks up the pace and your eyes roll back as they shut tightly. Everything about him is so intense, so all consuming, like everything could be gone in the next moment. The way he kisses you, the way he moans your name, and now the way he fucks you. It’s more than flirtation and distraction now. You need him. You need him like fucking air. And he needs you.

“Take me so good,” he growls in between thrusts, hammering into you now. “Such a good girl for me.” Oh, you love that. You love that a lot. You moan at his praises, begging for more. Your nails scratch down his back to provoke him and he nearly collapses on top of you with how it makes his whole being tremble. Back scratching, noted.

“You like that?” You love to tease him. Even though he’s the one in control, you feel a power trip knowing what makes him fall apart. His head dips to your shoulder, and suddenly you feel like you’ve awoken a sleeping beast. He groans low like he’s angry and you know you fucked up.

He snakes his hand down to the bend of your knee, hooking under with a grip so tight it digs into your flesh. He slowly hikes your leg higher and higher until you’re folded. Pinning your leg to your side, he slams back into your cunt to the hilt, hitting that devastating spot deep inside you. Your sharp gasp devolves into a moan and you’ve learned your lesson. Your shocked expression makes him chuckle and you’re tempted to provoke him again.

He kicks up a crushing pace as he starts fucking you hard into the bed. Pounding into your hips relentlessly as the room is filled with the sound of your bodies coming together. He keeps hitting that spot perfectly inside and you can feel yourself about to fall off the edge again. “Right there,” you sob, “Don’t stop.” You can barely form the words that spill from your lips and brush against his cheek. He drives into you with everything he’s got and all you can do is cry out his name.

“Din…Din…Din-“, you topple over. Throwing your head back on the pillow, your nails dig half moons into his back as your orgasm wracks through your entire body, running over you like warm water on your skin. He chokes out your name. Feeling you squeeze around his cock he sucks in air through his teeth. He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes are shut and his brow is knotted tightly. His hips stutter and his thrusts become shallow as he digs deeper and deeper until he groans loudly, spilling into your wet heat, gritting out curses as he pulses inside you and exhaustion sets in.

He releases your knee and you’re both utterly spent. Collapsing into each other and panting into the hot air, tangled together. Silence settles around you and there’s nothing else that exists outside this room. He lazily wipes the damp hair from your face and you’re not entirely sure if it’s from sweat or tears. Fuck, that was good. How you wish your first time would’ve felt. And yet, everything about him feels like a first for you.

He presses gentle kisses along your neck and cheek. Even after all that, he still makes you feel so soft. You’re moved by his tenderness as much as you’re moved by his savagery. You return the affection by running your fingers through his hair, slightly damp from sweat.

Your eyelids are heavy and you’re so close to sleep when Din cradles your cheek in his hand, bringing you in closer. “Come with me.” His lips press a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Hmm?” You’re almost too tired for words right now.

“Come with me,” he repeats. “There’s something I have to do first but… you were right. I need to see him again.” His hushed tone speaks volumes and you try to fight your drowsiness to listen.

You smile at the notion. Meet Grogu? Possibly bring him back? You might be getting ahead of yourself there but you’re so touched by his offer. He wants you to meet his son. How could you say no to that? You already know the answer.

“How would I fit in the ship,” you whisper.

He smiles against your skin. “Just like the last time,” he quips.

The memory floods your mind. The way you wrapped your arms around him, the way his hands grazed your throat. You grin and turn to rest your forehead against his. A content sigh escapes through your nose. And then his hand wraps around your wrist. He gently guides your hand upward and lays your palm against his chest. Feeling his heart beat so hard like it’s about to burst.

“Please,” he breathes.

Oh, you do like it when he says please.

taglist: @leithatnight @wonderless-screwup @babydarkstar @thevoiceinyourheadx @overly-obsessed-with-you @luanan7 @the-corvus-bandit @fangirl-316 @parkjammys @kirsteng42

dark tom holland when ur both filming a sex scene but he actually fucks you in front of the directors, who are none the wiser

pairing: dark!tom holland x actress!fem!reader

warnings: smut (minors dni,+18) (non-con)

the tension was high on set the moment you walked in. it was the day for the sex scene in the movie with your co-star tom holland. he was a sweetheart on and off screen until you’ve found yourself in this situation. usually these sex scenes were meant to be fake in reality but that was not what was happening as of now.

you and tom were under the sheets, to not reveal much nudity on screen and if anything slipped you were still in skin colored underwears. nothing would happen right? it was just acting. those were what you thought to yourself before the scene until tom was actually sliding himself into you. 

“what are you doing tom?” you whispered in his ear so that no one else would hear it. it was actually against the rules to do such things in front of the camera because it would technically be pornography. 

“making everything more realistic, darling. remember, i’m a method actor.” the camera was rolling and he was actually thrusting into you instead of pretending. your eyes were shut and back was arched. 

“great y/n, maybe a little harder tom, make it more believable, yeah?” the director ordered and tom was smirking in your neck while also kissing your soft skin. as the cue came in he went harder and started to moan too. your moans were filling the set and you were scared people would find out what was happening in reality. 

your breath was getting heavier and tom’s smirk was getting wider. he was genuinely enjoying this, on the other side you were confused about this whole situation, it felt wrong in so many ways. he didn’t even tell you that he was going to fuck you on set for real. 

before either of you could finish the director yelled “cut!” that was when tom pulled out without making it obvious. he adjusted both of your clothes and acted like nothing happened. 

“let’s take one more take guys. are y’all okay with it?” the director asked and not letting you speak, tom jumped in to say “any scene with her is okay with me really.” he winked at you and all you could do was smile and nod.