Thinking About How Luke Castellan Calls You “lovergirl” And Kisses Your Neck And Tucks Your Hair

luke can put backbiter to my chin like that idc

me finally seeing a low quality luke after two weeks of waiting:

Reblog if lesbian wolfstar

ok um marauders band au but it’s the 90’s and they all go to a creative arts boarding school and are in the schools music program

the marauders start a band after james falls in love with lily, the singer of her own band with mary and marlene :)

the marauders r kinda like “umm cringe af.” at first but they get really into it very quickly

the girls take notice and lilys kinda weirded out bc it’s obviously a tactic to get close to her

but after realising how dedicated james and the other r she lets her guard down and rehearsed with them from time to time.

REGULUS BLACK | HOLD HER PART 2

SUM. : Regulus sees a glimpse of his future with you and it's all he needs to give in

TAGS. : sunshine reader x grump regulus ; regulus is in denial ; pandora lestrange being the ultimate bestie ; james is in denial too ; james is not a shipper ; reader is precious ; regulus finally gives in

LENGTH : 2k

PART 0.5 | PART 1

Today was a shared class in Divination. Regulus doesn’t see much use for the subject, the antithesis of his divination partner and close friend, Pandora Lestrange. She was a whimsical being with curious mannerisms but that was why Regulus found her so refreshing to be around. She points out what isn’t always obvious and never judges anyone for anything. For those traits alone, she’s the only person he’s been able to talk about regarding you. 

After the fiasco at the courtyard following your bogart lesson, it’s become incredibly obvious to Regulus how attached he’s become to you. And vice versa. Over Lupin, you had gone to him for comfort. He was the one to wipe away your tears, he was the one to lovingly pet your hair, he was the one to whisper sweet reassurance into your ear, he was the one who held you tight until your shaking figure calmed and you were no longer sobbing helplessly into his shoulder. 

“You like her,” Pandora had declared, matter-of-factly after the event. He had gone to her, unable to fully articulate his feelings and needed guidance from someone who wasn’t naturally disparaging. “As more than a friend,” Pandora elaborated further when her brief answer didn’t satisfy him, sending the youngest Black brother spiralling. It was a reality he had been actively denying in an attempt to distance himself from you. His family were dangerous people and so were his forced associations – he didn’t want to burden you with that type of peril. 

Ever since that day, owing to his whispers of protection, Regulus avoided you adamantly. It wasn’t easy, however. You didn’t make it easy. Being your precious, cheerful self, you didn’t antagonise him for his sudden distance. Whenever you would catch his eye, you would flash him a smile. It’s as bright and warm as he remembers – you haven’t changed at all in spite of his obvious avoidance. 

“You are conflicted,” Pandora whispers from beside him as the objectives for the lesson are laid out by their divination professor — they were to use their crystal balls to attempt looking into their partner’s future. The procedure follows the same steps as their previous lesson, where they were tasked with looking into each others’ past. There were only a few tweaks that needed considering for future sight so it was simple enough. “There’s no need to distance yourself from someone who brings you such peace, Regulus,” she smiles at him serenely, not a trace of judgement in her eyes as the professor finally allows them to commence their set tasks. 

“It’s for a good reason—”

“You aren’t protecting her,” Pandora takes the lead and begins the ritual as Regulus grumbles opposite her, “You only succeed in denying her and yourself happiness. It’s time to stop, yes?”

Regulus doesn’t want to answer regardless of her truthful observations, “Do you see anything about my future?”

With grace, Pandora allows the change in subject and focuses on her crystal ball. The two of them actively ignore a growing dispute occurring not too far from their table. The pair protests their tasks, questioning the validity of divination and doubling down on their claims of the subject being pointless once the professor makes his way over to interject. Regulus scoffs under his breath, eyeing the duo critically in his peripheral. 

“They’re only trying to divert attention from their own incompetence,” Regulus returns his gaze to Pandora, feeling apologetic over her needing to concentrate twice as hard because of the distracting background noise. 

Pandora hums in agreement but keeps her main focus on the crystal ball until she’s finally able to conjure up a light grey cloud. The achievement steals Regulus’ attention – he’s always been fascinated by his friend’s ability in the subject; she makes the practice more believable to the pale Slytherin and the lessons more interesting to partake in.

“What was that, Black?!” one of the temperamental duo snaps, having heard Regulus’ snide comment. It wasn’t appreciated and the tension in the air suddenly came alive with the heated rage emanating from their combative classmates. But Regulus pays his aggressor no mind; he kept his attention solely on Pandora and the ball, which now swirled with a stormy cloud compared to the previous light grey — it took the concentration of both people to make the task work and Regulus wasn’t going to put his friend’s efforts to waste. “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you—!” upset at being ignored so flippantly, the classmate reaches over and pushes their table. 

Suddenly, the crystal ball was flung off its stand, propelled by the forceful jolt and sent crashing to the stone floor. It was a majestic disaster with glass pieces sent flying across the cold stone as the stormy cloud from within the ball was released into the air in a screen of opaque, dark-grey smoke. All attention is on the emitted fumes and gasps can be heard about the room as the cloud begins to create a clear picture, painted in vibrant colours so that all witnesses had no doubts about what they were seeing.

The smoke formed the undeniable image of Regulus, only, this version of him looked a little older. But he had the same elegant nose, perfectly permed hair, steel-grey eyes and sharp features. It was, without question, Regulus. The only difference was his serene smile. It looked natural on this older Regulus’ face, his features appearing to melt into the expression as another figure emerged. 

It was you. 

“Merlin’s beard, is that their future?” Regulus hears a faraway whisper. It grounds him in the realisation that he might be seeing what his life entails with you in the picture. Unable to breathe or move, Regulus continues to watch what plays out before him like a man possessed. Because, maybe this had the answers. He can no longer deny that you were an important person to him. But will that entail withdrawn yearning or a shared warmth? 

Everyone watches as an older version of you appears before Regulus. You look so beautiful, mature and with an elegance that elevates your existing beauty. The way you look at Regulus makes it seem as if he had swiped all your troubles away; your beaming countenance conveys your carefree spirit while your smiling eyes convey a deep devotion to the Regulus you hold your hand up to cup the face of. 

Regulus watches as he leans into your touch, eyes closed and with a peaceful smile on his face. He says something, then you say something and you’re leaning up further so that your noses are touching and your lips are mere centimeters away from each other’s. His heart almost stops beating in his chest at this point. But you take it one step further by tilting your head and pulling the image of him into a deep, heartfelt kiss. Squeals of delight were heard throughout the room, mostly from the girls as the guys quietly gasped, unable to realise that such a contented version of their usually stoic Slytherin classmate could exist. 

It was at that moment that Regulus remembers Pandora’s earlier words: there’s no need to distance yourself from someone who brings you such peace. Regulus finally understands. All this time, he was being selfish. He was selfish by denying his happiness while simultaneously denying your happiness too. It wasn’t his intention but that was what he had been doing and the guilt that pinched at his heart was painful. How could he deny such a cheerful and innocent person something as wonderful as happiness? 

He was ashamed. But as he watched you and his future self embrace each other tightly before pulling away to look into each other’s eyes, something began to tug at the strings of his heart. It was a yearning, a craving, a desperate need to see you and hold you and pull you into a kiss he only plans to deepen and never pull away from.  

Future Regulus has his arms wrapped around your waist as your hands hold his face at either side, your fingers twitching in the temptation to comb through his inky, curled locks. It seemed like forever before you finally pulled away from one another and future Regulus leaned back to flick his wand, accio-ing a bouquet into his hands. 

With fond eyes, Regulus watches your future self’s reaction as if he were the one to bring you the flowers and not the future version of him. He savours the bright smile across your kiss-coloured lips and the little jumps you do. Cute. You always jumped like that to express your cute joy. It’s so incredibly endearing, no wonder his future self was entranced and fully committed to bringing you simple joys over and over again. The edges of the scene begin to fade as the cloud becomes lighter and lighter in colour. Eventually, the vibrant colours of the scene begin to bleach out just as you hold the flowers to your face for a shy smell of the blossoms. The image fully bleeds away just as everyone witnesses future Regulus bring your spare hand up to his lips, where he kisses your knuckles while his chin brushes against your wedding ring. All the while, his own, matching marriage band glistens on his ring finger. 

The class is silent as the professor vanishes the smoke completely and broken glass pieces with a flick of his wand. 

“50 POINTS TO RAVENCLAW AND SLYTHERIN!” everyone is jolted from their frozen states at the booming elation of their divination professor, “Congratulations on a successful future reading Miss Pandora and Mr Black,” he turns to the argumentative student from earlier and remarks somewhat patronisingly, “your pair could learn a thing or two from that,”

The gossip chain was immediately in motion after the class. By the time dinner had arrived for everyone, the entire school was privy to what had happened and Regulus was on the lookout for any indication that you may have heard the news too. 

“WhAT?!” James Potter’s incredulous squawk of disbelief was heard by everyone and Regulus had to bite back a smirk. Trust Potter to make things obvious – if James knows then you know too. “THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING! NOOOO!” James’ protesting sobs soon became incoherent as he slumped against the dinner table, those closest to him patting his back as others avoid his theatrics completely, wanting to have a normal dinner for once. Some things were coherent enough such as: ‘corrupted’, ‘married’, ‘please no’, ‘never let it happen’, and ‘not her’. All were expressed in varying degrees of distress and despair, as expected from someone who took it upon himself to adopt you as his baby sister despite the absence of any blood relation. 

For now, Regulus can wait, he can hold his tongue, and he can keep himself from reaching out and pulling you into a long embrace. He had yet to apologise for his pathetic behaviour – what was he thinking distancing himself from you, thinking it would keep you safe when that only leaves the two of you vulnerable and deprived of the future you had the potential to share. 

Looking over, he watches with fond eyes as you comfort James in a vain attempt to distract yourself from the gossip and becoming overly flustered. You’re too precious. He’ll allow himself one full day; he can, at least, keep himself away that long to help you digest what happened. 

Appearing to sense his lingering gaze, you look up and meet his eyes. As predicted, you’re immediately flustered and look away but not without trying to face him again and offer your usual warm smile. It’s as if you’re telling him it’s okay, that you’re okay with what’s happened and what it all means for you. You look adorable, so cute and sweet. Why do you have to look like that and torture him further?!

No… he can’t last a full day. 

He won’t even make it past the hour.  

navi.

A/N : why is it that I’m inspired at the most inconvenient times? I couldn’t go to sleep because I had this scenario stuck in my head until I finally gave up and decided to write it on the spot at 3am. It’s super cute so I hope you darlings like it too hehe~ 

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

Will there be a part 2 of your Luke castellan x reader fanfic SETTLE DOWN?

honestly idk 😭😭 i dont know if i have any story left to tell with settle down 😕

i know a lot of people have been yearning for a part 2 of settle down but i feel like there’s nothing else left to say if that makes sense?

if i did do a part two, it would probably be lazy and rushed and boring bc idk how to write PAST the thrill of the chase era lolol

but i’m still considering writing a part two, so DONT WORRY it’s just a MAYBE 🤔😉

Hey I was wondering if you can write a Luke x reader doing the bow trend on TikTok pretty please 😭🙏🏽

YES YES the one where you put a bow around his arm??!!! mhm mhm it’ll be out in less than 48 hours i PROMISE

this is soo aphrodite girl coded

oh you ate this up. pun intended

opinions on munch luke ? 😏

holy shit this boy can EAT 😫

mdni 18+

like full blown making out with your pussy type shit. he’s down on his knees while you sit on the edge of the bed, back arched and nails digging into anything for support; the sheets, the wood beams, his hair, etc. the vibrations from his moans on your clit only add on to the string of profanities you’re mindlessly spewing out.

he likes to make sure you’re full too, jamming in at least three fingers and swirling them around to hit all of the right spots. and if his fingers aren’t fucking into you, his tongue is.

every once in a while, he looks up to check on you and make sure you’re okay, but your eyes are too far in the back your head to even notice.

not to mention, bomb ass aftercare. once you’ve cum (normally more than once), he’s at your side cradling you and whispering sweet nothings into your neck about how you “did so good for him.” but most times, head is just the foreplay.

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

which was more culturally significant, the renaissance or peeta mellark's "if it weren't for the baby" remark during the 75th hunger games?

romeo meets juliet — luke castellan x reader : chess can be played in many different situations. 

tags : 18+!! loser!luke (hes actually such a loser im sorry), college setting, brothers best friend!luke, mutual pining, religious imagery(?), classic literature references, body worship, smut, luke is pathetically in love 

a/n : save me nerdy boy with sad eyes save me

luke didn’t acknowledge your existence at first, he stuck to himself, from his classes, to his dorm, maybe even the lunchroom if his roomate, your brother, convinced him to come rather than just making all of his meals in the dorm. luke and your brother were complete opposites, luke was studying literature, mostly classic,  he didn’t speak to many people unless forced to— and your brother was studying engineering, which also basically required him to join a frat, and he spoke to nearly everyone with cockiness prominent in his tone. 

one thing they did have in common, though, was chess. 

now, your brother could never tell anyone, especially not his frat brothers, that he played chess, let alone was in the university’s chess club— but he felt pity for luke, most of the time luke played by himself, which was somehow equally as frustrating as having to play against someone else. 

the only people that knew about your brother playing chess was luke, the chess club, and you. 

luke remembers the first time you came trotting in to the dorm, complaining to your brother about some argument you had with your parents about how your friends are distracting you from your studies. your brother only rolls his eyes, barely listening to your non - stop whining about how it’s ridiculous, “i mean— you’re the one in a frat! why aren’t they mad at you?” 

“because i actually do my work,” he mumbles, and luke breathes out in a silent laugh, moving a piece on his chess board. 

“you’re in engineering, you don’t even have any actual work,” you frown, and albeit the fact that you’re wrong, you’re still confident in what you said. 

“are you stu— whatever,” your brother waves you off, deciding to change the subject when he motions to luke, the boy in a nirvana t-shirt, currently moving to a different side of the chess board as he plays against himself, “this is luke, my roommate, obviously.” 

luke immediately freezes, fingers curling around the chess piece he was adjusting to move— his eyes are wide, and they’re moving to look at you, only to immediately flicker to some other part of the room when they meet your expectant gaze. since he won’t speak first, you pick up the slack, “hey, luke.” 

your brother notices how luke looks like a scared, lost puppy even by the slightest implication of having to speak to a woman, let alone be perceived by one, so he moves to whisper in your ear, “he’s like, deathly afraid of women, i’ve never seen him speak to one, ever.” 

and you from that you don’t expect a response from luke, until he mumbles a short, “hi.” 

that’s when your head tilts, noticing the way his curls fall over his brows messily, like he doesn’t pay attention to styling it, or maybe it’s on purpose, maybe he pays too much attention to styling it. the way he wore something so simple, yet so telling about himself, the way he awkwardly places the chess piece back on the board on the spot he wanted to. he assumes the conversation is over, so he moves to the opposite side of the board to make a move against his own. 

“are you in the chess club?” you take a step closer, and he perks up, hand ghosting over the piece once more. 

luke doesn’t say anything, his lips twitch around words that don’t come out. your brother speaks in his place, “he’s the president, he’s a fucking grandmaster.”

luke just awkwardly laughs, moving his hand to scratch at the back of his neck, eyes moving from the board to you, then to your brother, “i’m not like— actually the president,” another awkward, short chuckle, “i just— like.. um.. play a lot, i guess.” 

“you are the president, dude,” your brother corrects, being insufferable as he always is. 

but luke puts up with it, then you ask another question, “what do you major in?” 

“literature,” luke responds for himself this time, finally able to move his hand to make a proper move on the chess board, before mumbling, “mostly classic.” 

“you’re kidding, i am too, how have i not seen you before?” 

luke’s eyes finally meet yours, now, pausing on your eyes, then resuming down the shape of your face, memorizing each feature, the curve of your lashes, the shape of your lips— he swallows thickly. 

“i just— sit in the back.. and go to my dorm— as soon as class ends,” there’s that awkward, short chuckle again. 

“have you finished the paper?” 

luke nods, and that’s when your brother finally gets a bright idea. 

“you should help her, luke, with the work.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

that’s how it all started, with a simple suggestion, that’s when you came to the dorm more often, when he began to notice that you were actually in his classes, and when you realized he had an awful staring problem. he thought he was slick with it too, letting his eyes move around the room for a mere.. twenty seconds before they finally snap to you, and from there, they stay, until you finally return the gaze and he’s immediately nervously looking away. 

he hardly speaks to you, unless your brother urges him to, and he’s always avoiding looking at you when he speaks, stumbling over words, pausing in sentences to catch his losing breath. he was a complete and utter loser, terrible when it came to socializing, even worse when it’s with girls. with you, it somehow seemed to worsen. 

“am i the first girl you’ve ever talked to?” you ask once, far too blunt for your own liking, you didn’t mean to really say it, it kind of just came out when seeing how much his leg bounced under the table with nervousness, nearly sweating himself to death under your gaze. 

sweat beads down his temple when his eyes flutter up to meet yours, moving from the romeo and juliet book in his hands. isn’t it so ironic that he had just gotten done reading the scene in which romeo says, “did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! for i ne'er saw true beauty till this night,” when seeing juliet for the first time? truly, it isn’t the first time he saw you, but it’s night, and you are beautiful. truly, utterly, “beautiful.” 

“what?” 

oh, oh my god. saliva bubbles in his mouth, sour saliva, and he gulps it down, hoping it would somehow be a form of poison that would wake him from this nightmare. does he say what he meant? that he was thinking out loud? that he thinks you’re beautiful? or should he deny it? deny. he bursts into awkward laughs, “what— what do you mean— i.. i didn’t even say anything.. ha, haha.” 

“why are you acting like that?” your brows furrow. 

“like what?” 

“like you’re hiding something.” 

his breathing only shakes anymore, “i’m not hiding anything.. that’s like— a wild accusation.” 

“it’s not an accusation, i’m just saying,” you frown at him. 

his adam’s apple bobs with another swallow, “okay but like—“ 

“why are you harassing him?” your brother sighs, tired how much you press luke. 

“i’m not— whatever, i was asking you— am i the first girl you’ve ever spoken to?” 

your brother barks out a laugh, and luke’s eyes fall back down to the book in his hands. did not having proper conversations with women make him any less? romeo grabbed juliet’s hand once, and the first words he uttered to her was a promise to redeem himself if his hand was too unworthy to be touching her holy one. parallels sear in his mind, and he just mumbles a, “not really.” 

he has spoken to women before, sure, small greetings, maybe even the slightest indulgence of conversation— but luke keeps to himself, and to be honest, he was a man used to running from women, as he did from his mother. he grew up being afraid of women, well, afraid isn’t the proper word, intimidated is better, and he just decided to avoid them as much as possible. 

though, no matter how much he tries to avoid you, you’re always there, in his sight, in his mind. maybe it’s a disgrace, like romeo holding juliet’s hand, for him to even be thinking of you, looking at you— you were a goddess that offered a man on his knees the slightest bit of your grace, and now he was hooked. 

it was pathetic, really, how he anticipated every time he suspected you would be over, how his eyes always found their way to you in class, how he made sure to purposefully walk past you in the lunchroom on the days he went, which was oddly more now. 

a man who is still a virgin to adore a girl far too good for him, he is hopeless. 

“it’s okay if i am,” you adjust, okay, there might be a little hope, “anyway, how do you like romeo and juliet?” 

“it’s pretty nice—“ he notices the way your face perks up in shock, “kind of, i don’t know.” 

“i think it’s a bore, i’m sure the movie is much better.” 

“we should watch the movie— um.. together, sometime.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

if luke was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t entirely mean to say it, and as soon as you left the dorm, he nearly doubled over with shock at his own words, and even more shock at the fact that you agreed. not only did you agree, you actually came, and it was just you and him. your brother was off at some frat party, again, and he had left luke completely alone with you, even when luke begged him not to. 

“you’re kidding, dude, i’m like— horrified of her,” luke frowns at your brother. 

“you need exposure therapy, or some shit, call me your therapist.” 

“you’re a shit therapist,” luke sighs, rubbing his temples. 

“and you need to grow some balls.” 

so, your brother left him, and now luke’s awkwardly standing with you at his door - step, staring at him expectantly, his lips twitch around so many possible words, possible sentences, and all that comes out is, “hey.” 

he’s been staring for you for at least a minute, and all he can say is hey. your lips curve to an amused smile, “hi, luke.” 

“um— you can come in, if you.. want, ‘course.” he moves out the way to let you in, watching you step past him so he can close the door. 

“i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to,” you remark as if it’s the obvious, mostly because it is. 

when romeo stood underneath juliet’s balcony, he praised how captivating she was, considers her as glorious as an angel, a winged messenger above his head. in his own words : 

“one who makes mortals fall onto their backs to gaze up in awe as the angel strides across the clouds and sails through the air.”

consider luke on his back now, staring up at the stars in your eyes, the halo that shines above your head, the wings that flap with every stride you make— a goddess, an angel, venus incarnate, right before his eyes, staring at him like he had something deeply wrong with him. wait. he blinks a few times, and his eyes refocus onto your confused face. 

“are you okay, luke?” 

he quickly clears his throat, “yeah, yeah— duh, ‘course i am, uh.. we should,” he moves to the table in which his laptop was on, “watch the movie, yeah? ‘ts on my.. laptop, if you don’t mind.” 

“i don’t, at all,” you move to sit next to him on the couch in front of the table, watching the veins in his hands pulse, palms sweaty when he moves to open his laptop, shifting a few tabs and pressing a few keys until he mumbles a small okay and presses the space button. 

moaning. that’s all you hear, the sound of skin slapping, ah ah— oh fuck mmph you’re so b— luke slams the laptop shut. 

dear god, save him now. 

he can’t even bring himself to look at you, the sweat on his palms only worsens and spreads onto the top of the laptop as he smoothes his hands across it, replaying the scene a million times in his mind. to his surprise, you giggle, “you watch porn?” 

he’s quick to awkwardly scoff out a short laugh, “yeah— i mean, everyone does.. but like.. i don’t watch it— that much.” 

your finger moves to run along the vein on his arm, feeling him shudder under your touch, yet he doesn’t want you to stop, even the slightest touch makes his dick twitch in his pants, “are you a virgin, luke?” 

he inhales sharply, “y-yeah..” 

“do you want to have sex?” you lean the tiniest bit closer. 

he pauses, “yes.. of course—“ 

“with me?” 

“yes.” he responds quick, too fucking quick, it must’ve been at most a second after you said it for him to respond. the truth stings his tongue, to finally be able to say it out loud, how much he had fantasized about you in the late of night, even sneaking off to the bathrooms so his hand can dip underneath his waistband when he thinks about the times you’ve worn a tight shirt that frames your tits far too well. 

but it was wrong, wasn’t it? you were a goddess, on a pedestal, and he was merely just a man, staring up at your statue in the hopes that you would notice him one day. forbidden, possibly, but all those thoughts leave his mind when his eyes move from the finger tracing up his bicep to your neck, then your lips, then your eyes. 

“please tell me you’ve kissed before.” 

“yeah.. yeah— i have,” a playground kiss counts, right?

it seems to when your lips fall against his own, the kiss was so gentle, until he dared to kiss you back, then it got hungry, mostly on his end. he kissed you like a starving man, nearly devouring you but at the same time, being horrified to. your tongue finds it’s way into his mouth, and to your surprise, he whimpers against your lips.

his hands are hesitant, unsure of where to go, does he touch your arm? your shoulder? your waist? he doesn’t want to push anything, so the waist seems far too much, his hands awkwardly place themselves on your arm, in a very weird position. 

“have you touched a girl before?” 

his lips are flushed from the kiss, eyes glazing over the position of his hands, and he quickly moves them off, “sorry— well, i just.. um.. didn’t want to push anything.” 

“you can,” you reassure, but his hands still hesitate, the flesh of a goddess, to be touched by someone so inexperienced. was he really worth it? any of it? to even be in your presence was a blessing, and it was still taking him forever to register the fact that you had actually kissed him, prayers passed through your lips into his. 

“are you sure?” 

“‘course i am.” 

it still took luke some getting used to, having you straddle his lap, you knew so much, it felt like more than just an honor to have you so close to him. his eyes flicked from your own to your lips, then to your tits, the low v - cut showing off your cleavage perfectly. and he looked like a complete deer in headlights, staring at the flesh pushed together between the window of clothing. you smile at his lack of self control, feeling the way his dick throbs underneath his pants, right against your ass, “you can touch them.” 

“wha— nono, ‘ts okay— i just..” he trails off, sweaty palms moving past you to slide across his knees. 

“really, luke, you can— why don’t i just..” you move to take off your shirt, his eyes immediately catching on to the lace of your bra, the way your tits are practically spilling out of it, all until you take off your bra as well and they immediately fall out. 

his hand twitches around nothing, desperately wondering what it must feel like to have your flesh underneath his palm, fingers curling around the plush of it. it seems you must’ve heard his prayers when you move to take his hands, pulling them back to press against your tits. 

soft, that’s his first thought, sweat sticks to your skin when his fingers curve around the flesh, gripping it ever so gently. praises spill from his lips almost immediately, thoughts he had since the day he saw you, finally being spoken, “y’re beautiful— fuck, i’ve always.. always wanted to— do this..” 

you smile so sweet at him, nectar nearly drips off your teeth, “can i ride you, luke?” 

his eyes finally meet yours, brows furrowing for a mere second, “huh— oh, oh.. yeah, ‘course you can.” 

you didn’t expect him to have a big, no matter how cruel that sounds, you had heard rumors of nerds with big dicks, but sought to never believe it until you saw it, and good fucking lord you saw it. as soon as his dick springs out from the pants and boxers you were tugging down, luke’s hands mindlessly moved to your waist, your eyes widen. 

no fucking way. he has to be.. six? seven inches, at least. slightly girthy too, he wasn’t all just length, and precum was beading from his red tip. he immediately inhales sharply when your fingers graze his dick, nervous under your gaze, “is it too small— i.. i’m sorry—“ 

“too small?” you scoff playfully at his scared expression, worried of what you think, “this might be the biggest dick i’ve ever seen, luke.” 

“that’s— a good thing.. right?” 

“obviously, god, it better fit,” this is the first time you’ve ever been concerned about whether or not a dick will fit, luke stiffens when you spit on your palm, pressing it to his dick and wettening it as you jerk him off, his response is immediate, carefully gripping at your skin and pressing his lips together to muffle his whimpers. 

luke had jerked of many, many times, but it never felt as good as this. 

“fuck—“ he grunts out, already far too close from just a simple hand movements. 

you immediately stop, picking up on his nearing orgasm from the way his hips kept bucking up into your hands, pathetic whines slipping past his lips, but it was just so cute. the cutest thing, though, was his face when he got the first look at your vagina, he looked like a man staring at a piece of art he had admired. and this was art, sex was, you were, everything about you, it felt so sacred. 

his lashes flutter when you take his hand, guiding it to your sopping cunt, allowing him to feel the wetness that was nearly pouring from you. like nectar from a fountain, it coated his fingertips when he touched you, his eyes focused onto your face, making sure that he was doing it right. he notices the way you gasp when his fingertips brush against your clit, so he presses against it again, and again. 

he follows everything he has seen in pornos, spreading your folds, fingers grazing past your entrance, rubbing your clit— but he’s lost when you wave him off before he can finger you to prep you for his dick, wasn’t that something people did? “but don’t you…” 

“it’ll fit,” you mumble back, relying on how wet you are to make it easier. 

he watches the way your jaw falls when you move to press his tip against your entrance, allowing the tip to push into you and it’s already too big. his eyes widen at the feeling of your walls clenching around his tip, unable to hold back the noises that slip from his own lips. 

“you’re like— the.. the girl of my dr— fuck— dreams,” luke hushed out between his mess of moans and grunts, he wondered if romeo ever felt this way when he kissed juliet for the first time, the sort of electric rush that riddled his bones, it felt unreal. you were a dream incarnate, one luke was always haunted with, the woman that would show up when his eyes would close at night, and now you were on his lap, sinking down on his dick. 

“am i? really?” you question, inhaling sharply when you finally reach the base of his cock. for some odd reason, you didn’t believe you were all he was putting you up to be, and that made him sick— how could you think of yourself as any less? you were perfect, a vision, to be fair, luke would adore you even if you were an enemy, just like romeo and juliet. 

he would stand at your balcony, stare at you from across the ballroom, kiss your knuckles, kiss you— he would do it all. he might even drink poison just to spend eternity with you. 

“yes, yes— are you.. kidding? mmph.. fuck— you’re like.. a fuckin’ goddess,” it comes out like a prayer, as if he was on his knees at your altar, kissing your legs, and whispering worshipping words. 

to nobody’s surprise, luke doesn’t last long at all when you’re bouncing on his cock, no matter how much he tried to distract himself from his throbbing cock by pawing at your tits, or moving to kiss you, his orgasm was just too close. “‘m g’na.. please.. g’na cum.. mmphh.. fuck!” 

when he does cum, you had pulled off him, jerking him off, and he’s practically writhing, a whimpering and damn near crying mess. and once he’s helped you to your orgasm as well, you’re falling into his arms, finding a safe - haven in how he smells like old books, mint, and cheap cologne. 

two star crossed lovers, one capulet, one montague. 

“these violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder. which, as they kiss, consume.” — romeo and juliet, act two, scene six.