I Know This Is Too Niche.. But I Am Who I Am

these photo dumps have been so yummy

i love sturniolo christmas

i have SO MANY ideas for hamzah x reader but i can't write. is anybody taking requests?

when do I get my wes bennett

tucker with martin and hamzah, THIS is my super bowl

he's so attractive. im barking

I could change his life if he gave me a chance.

ZAMN.

oh hell yes!

HEAVY on adam brody and milo manheim

my type ~ god bless 🩵

jj who got bitchy!kook!reader to crumble…and is a smug bastard about it.

jj had been pestering you for a very, very long time. constantly teasing mocking, and poking fun at you — always having a remark locked and loaded for whatever snarky, sassy comment you gave him that day.

for a pogue, he handled your attitude well. perhaps pogues just handle it better, as you’ve never met a kook boy who hasn’t called you psycho bitch with a big mouth.

the relentless mockery and vulgar flirting from jj, along with the lingering touches and downright gropes he gave you left you in a state you knew damn well you shouldn’t be in.

you often found yourself thinking about him late at night, and in most those cases, whilst your hand was stuffed into your victoria secret panties.

it was another one of those nights, playing with your own pussy until it was left sticky and throbbing, moaning jj’s name to your empty room. you had become sick of your pathetic excuse of an orgasms by your own hands, trotting your way over to jj’s house at gone midnight.

you were at his door, clearly disgusted by the actual state of the cut — and jj’s house, but feeling your own arousal, causing your panties to stick to you, it was the very least of your concerns.

which is how you ended up right here, in playboy pogues bed, getting your cunt absolutely drilled by him, his hand flat between your shoulder blades and forcing your chest to the mattress.

“this is all you needed, huh? just needed someone to fuck all that bitchiness outta you.” he drawled from behind you, amused at your slightly dazed look.

despite your loud, pornograhic moans bouncing off the walls as jj fucked you like the world would end tomorrow — you still had something to say.

“f-fuck you, pogue. this — this doesn’t mean shit.” You spat, reaching back to scratch your neatly manicured nails against his forearm.

he gave a deep chuckle, rumbling from deep in his chest as he grabbed your hips, yanking you closer, thrusting somehow deeper, hitting that spot your fingers or stupid frat kooks couldn’t ever hit.

“the sounds you’re makin’ say different, mama.” he commented, listening to your loud, borderline yelps as he pounded into you, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave fingerprint bruises.

“g-god, you’re so full of yourself.” you hissed, and he leant down, snaking a large arm around your neck and pulling you to his chest tightly, other hand wandering from your hip to the bulge in your lower abdomen — pressing down on it with a smirk.

“nah, i think you’re the one full of me.”