#But she'll force you to do the breaking.

[illusions-in-octarine]

On the list of people I would never have been interested in, Renna's near the top. Yet Xelia Mendes-Jones brought it. I am So Invested. This is what one woman has become in her native Seanchan culture. Power-hungry and mentoring and tempermental and brutal, all in the service of breaking another human. She's been trained for this. You can tell. She's good at it and she's proud of that and I have never felt prouder of Egwene than when even Renna cracked - when her pride was damaged by Egwene's steel.

This isn't the face of a woman who feels like she's won. This is the face of a woman who's angry she couldn't conquer the other person sooner.

Egwene may have broken for a single cup of water. But Renna broke her calm for it too.

[0spookymoth0]

If I see one more person say Odysseus cheated on Penelope I'm gonna rip out your ligaments like Typhon did to Zeus that one time

[mc-critical]

Curious that in the wake of Süleiman's first campaign, both Hürrem and Hatice are scared of forever losing the people they've come to love and have latched onto in order to keep going and find new meaning for themselves after their seemingly dealbreaking past and recent losses, all the while Hafsa reveals her intention to marry both of them off all in the same episode, thus reinforcing the alienation they would feel in Süleiman and Ibrahim's absences and threatening to fully cement it, cutting them off from their actual loves and bringing misery to them both.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Do you have any fucked up babscass headcanons? This is vaguely for the ask game but I’m curious. I’ve also had a vision of dick being drawn into their dubiously consensual mommy kink thing, probably unwillingly. I just love the idea of babs being her teacher for everything normal, like yes on some level it is grooming but cass knows everyone’s intentions automatically, could babs really make her do anything she didn’t want to do?

for the ask game!

GOD YES. i love BabsCass. just. so dearly. they're so fucked up. and adding Dick to the mix is *also* so so fun. the concepts of how consent plays into it all when Cass knows everyone's intentions and feelings (sometimes before they themselves do) but Babs still holding clear power over Cass and how vulnerable Cass is emotionally it's just. good soup i tell you.

so, i think it's fun, if in a way, Babs has always been slightly jealous of Bruce. after becoming Oracle by means out of her control, she works with other heroes sure, but she doesn't have a protege. she watched with Dick and Bruce, how close of a bond Batman and Robin is. how Bruce got to shape and mold Dick into the hero he's become and the reverence Dick has for Bruce. there's such a nuance to that relationship, and Babs wants it for herself. the first person to carry on the Batgirl torch is Helena, something she violently disapproves of. so for her to give Batgirl to Cass, that's significant. it's both a sign of acceptance, and a sign of ownership. it's basically her way of saying to Bruce "this one's mine." and thus, their relationship reflects it. because it's easy to seak out a close bond with Cass, who's never had anyone show her love and affection with no strings. Babs' love is unconditional. and Cass wants to bury herself in it. she knows it's romantic and possibly sexual, but Babs doesn't sexualize Cass the way men do. there's no leering comments or objectification. Babs is kind and respectful, so Cass doesn't mind. she even leans into it. there's something nice in being appreciate for something other than how good of a weapon she makes. and Babs' touch is just. something Cass craves. Babs wants to respect boundaries, but Cass is practically crawling into her lap after certain rough missions, just for the companionship.

i think it's fun if the mommy kink starts with Cass. sure, Babs has been carefully guiding Cass toward being comfortable with sexual things. Cass is regularly naked around Babs with no problem, she lets Babs touch her anywhere. but it's when Babs is holding Cass that Cass talks about how she doesn't know who her mother is and she wishes she knew what having a mother felt like. and sure, Cass knows that Babs isn't entirely motherly. not when her hand is resting inside of Cass' pants at that very moment. but this is the closest thing she has. i enjoy the idea of Cass knowing that this isn't normal. sure, she doesn't fully understand relationships, but she knows mother/daughter and dating are different. but it's a two birds one stone kind of thing. she's so convinced she's not going to find enough people to love her to fill all the "roles" in her life, why not combine the two. after all, Dick and Bruce are doing it. so when Cass brings it up, Babs lets Cass call her mommy. it's a soothing thing, more than a kink thing. and it delightfully plays into Babs' hand for how she wants to groom Cass, giving her more control and trust over Cass. it's easy to get Cass to side with her instead of Bruce when she just has to stroke Cass' hair and praise her whenever she does what Babs want. Cass is so used to negative reinforcement that she'll take any kind of positive reinforcement, even if she knows it's slightly manipulative. sometimes, what matters to her the most is just that someone wants to protect and take care of her in the first place.

i love the idea of Dick getting dragged in unwillingly so much. Cass has very high standards for what a mentor/partner/mother figure should look like because of how reverently Babs treats her. and Cass is known for being critical of Bruce's methods. so when Bruce is particularly cruel to Dick, or that have a nasty argument that Cass witnesses and Bruce possibly even hits Dick, that's when Dick gets dragged in. it starts with Babs inviting him to just eat dinner and chill out with Babs and Cass in the Clocktower. then he's being invited to stay the night more and more often so he doesn't have to crash at Wayne Manor when he's in Gotham. the first time he wakes up with Cass sleeping next to him, he doesn't comment on it. he knows what it's like to be so tired you just crash on the nearest bed. it's when he notices that he's being more and more separated from Bruce, that Dick starts to notice something is off. he's never commented on what's going on between Babs and Cass bc well, he's one to talk. but now he's caught between them. Cass and Babs don't even have to talk, they just wordlessly know they're on the same page about bringing Dick into the fold. for Cass, it's genuinely to protect him. she's happy with Babs, and she wants Dick to feel happy in that way too, with someone who's not as emotionally closed off as Bruce. and Cass just wants as many close relationships as she can get. and for Babs, there is genuine attraction there. she and Dick almost flirted with dating before, and nows her chance to have him and finally beat Bruce. and as unwilling as Dick is, it's hard to say no when they're being so gentle with him. he keeps telling himself he's going to set hard boundaries and tell them no, eventually. but Babs has the manipulation down pat, and Cass is so gentle and loving, Dick just gets swept in too deep. they both know he's unwillingly, but to Cass, that's just how love works. you have to be talked into it sometimes because you don't realize you deserve it.

Babs teaching Cass about sex my *beloved*. first, it's just Cass and Babs. Babs showing Cass how she can feel good, how she can make Babs feel good. but now with Dick, they have a whole new person for Babs to see to teach Cass about sex. Dick has to be talked into it by Babs, who paints it as a learning opportunity for Cass. I just. I love throuple dynamics where one person is basically being used as a toy for the dom to tell the third person to use, and that fits them so well. Dick is just a toy, a prop basically. and Babs is guiding Cass through it, teaching her how to make Dick feel good, how to ride him. I like the idea of Babs edging both of them until she feels like Cass has "learned" enough. which is clearly just part of the kink, corrupting Cass. and they all know it, but it's an unspoken thing. even more fun if Babs gives Cass some token form of control, letting Cass control when Dick can come. and to Cass, edging is a natural part of sex, so she also tortures Dick like that, bringing him to the edge and holding him there no matter how much he begs. sometimes, Dick just watches Cass and Babs have sex and learns what they like through that. he learns Babs is a sadist, but she has to be careful with it. Cass views pain strictly as a very negative punishment and the last thing Babs wants to do is lose the trust she has built up with Cass. so she avoids pain for the longest time. it's Dick who notices Babs itching to hurt someone, so to make sure it's not Cass, Dick offers himself. and Cass watches as Babs hurts Dick, and Dick *likes* it. maybe impact play, maybe some CBT, that sort of stuff, just testing the waters of how far Babs can take it with Dick. it makes Cass curious enough to try it, both sadism and masochism. she finds it takes a lot for her to enjoy masochism, but in the right applications, it's nice. there's something about letting herself feel pain, which she was never allowed before. pain is something to be compartmentalized and worked through. so there's something nice about turning her brain off and just feeling. especially if she's being hurt while she's in Babs or Dick's arms, bc she knows she's safe. both of them have become her safe space to explore new things during sex.

eventually, Dick comes to mostly accept being part of the relationship. he realizes he's in too deep when Cass casually calls him her boyfriend in front of Bruce just to make Bruce stutter. they're all adults, so it's not something Bruce can fight too hard. and Dick does have to admit, Cass has a point. there's far less arguing and fighting in this relationship. the grooming practically works better on Dick than it did Cass, bc now he's just accepted it and is going along with everything. he starts initiating sex, with either of them separately or together, just bc he likes giving up control to them. he likes the way Cass is gentle when she's domming, taking control from him without even asking and just taking care of him. and when Babs is in control, she's a little meaner, a bit rougher, but sometimes, he needs that too. sometimes he just likes to watch the two of them, see Cass call Babs mommy while she's crying and begging for anything. it's carnal and just fascinating to watch, even if he doesn't get off to it. seeing how much they love each other and how much they love him makes his head spin, because being with Bruce was nothing like this. Bruce rarely talks about his feelings, rarely said he loved Dick. meanwhile Cass and Babs will say it about a dozen times a day. maybe it's manipulative, but they make it sound so genuine, he can't bring himself to care. and Cass is pleased Dick is finally giving him, letting himself be loved. Babs is pleased to have control of both Dick and Cass. all of them are getting something out of it so really, what's there to complain about?

[datastate]

also unpictured on that is reko & her father thank you goodbye

[jewishbuckley]

"was there a reason you didn't cancel this" honestly I thought I had so no there wasn't a reason but also if clients are going to have Your personal number and reach out to You about canceling (when they Should be reaching out via email per our cancelation policy) then You should be canceling the appt anyway imo. all the other trainers cancel their appointments AND add their appointments to the system 🤪

[acaciapines]

writing rain world fic so fun i love coming up w all the background iterator dynamics <3 we arent gonna see any of them but i WILL keep leaving hints about their relationships <3

[writers-potion]

Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[queenie-the-court-jester]

break up with your boyfriend

Yandere trans!fem cheerleader x fem reader

It was so shittily made but I need to pump out more fics or else my blog will die. Thank you all for 1k followers though! I'll rewrite this in the future maybe

Tw: mentions of blackmailing, nsfw, slight breeding kink, batshit crazy girlfriend,not proofread, another oc mentioned!?🌺

💄Eva saccharine has been your girlfriend since she first started transitioning. You helped her style her hair, do her nails, pick her clothes, find good makeup, anything she needed to feel like the real her. So when freshman year rolled in, it came as no surprise to you she fit right in with the clique.

💐Ofcourse you had your fears she'd choose them over you but that wasn't the case, because she'd make you eat lunch with them and sit on her lap, not so subtly humping your ass while talking all about cheer practice

🛍️boys wanted to date her, girls wanted to be her. She just wanted you, to just be the two baddest bitches on the block. It didn't matter if you were just like her or the complete opposite, she gushed over you. Praising you for being her good girl, her sweet little princess, her obedient pocket pussy-

💄but at this current moment? She was busy bullying your insides, forcing her fat cock into your slippery hole as she held you steady by your waist. Biting and groaning everytime she'd feel you squeeze that certain spot on her dick

"fu-uuckkk.. baby cakes, 'yer squeezin' me so goood.. ah.. hah.. you wouldn't mind if I pumped a few babes into your tight cunny right? Wanna be my baby mama?"

💐that made you squeeze tighter, holding onto the bedsheets for dear life. She had you face down, ass up and damn near breaking your back with how hard she was going. Hearing the normally composed and playful eva turn into a drooling pussy-drunk mess had you feeling butterflies, just going plap play plap-

🛍️let's just say, by the end of it, you couldn't walk for days afterwards. But no amount of hickies and perfume would be able to scare away a rather persistent guy. He was on the football team, star quarterback, rich asshole. sam white. Eva hated his guts, he thinks he can just waltz in and steal her bitch? Not on her watch.

💄this little feud had been going on for a while, and more times than you could count you've been caught in the crossfire. Though it was kinda funny, seeing them screeching insults at eachother and bickering. Eva would sassily flick her blonde hair and grab you by the collar of your neck, Dragging you away while Sam hooted and hollered at your retreating form

💐you never questioned her morbid fascination with anything horror or paranormal related. She was just obsessed with regular girl things. wanting you to help her summon a demon once, but you aren't that stupid, making blood pacts with them could result in very unsavory ending's and you quite cherished your soul and body

🛍️Eva has more than one account on different social medias, pretending to be multiple different people and Stalking your posts. She'd slide into your dms and flirt, seeing if you'd really cheat on her. She's so happy when you instantly block the account, guess you'll survive not being sent to her basement for another week

💄she has the audacity to grab a frilly pink pen and make you wear clothes that purposely shows off what she wrote. In bright bold lettering, Eva's little cum dump ♡ . Maybe she'll let you bring a jacket, only if you beg her really hard with those big doe eyes she loves. She put a collar and leash on you too

💐don't try breaking up with her, she takes 'they go low, I go lower" to another level. Threatening to post pictures of you in rather compromising positions. When did she record all of this? Who knows. She won't refrain from spreading nasty rumors of you that just force you to come sobbing into her arms, if you try and get comfort from somebody else she won't hesitate to eliminate them. Don't you see? She's the final girl, and you're her love Interest

"I told you not to run pretty baby.. now look what you've done. I gotta fix your mess up~.."

moral of the story: be a loyal loving girlfriend and she'll spoil you rotten with her daddy's black card ��️

[livin4woso]

Boyfriend behaviour-(leah williamson x reader)

Summary - Some people would say leah has a few typical boyfriend behaviours, and shes sure to deny them. However, you are quick to prove her wrong.

Leah was the perfect girlfriend to you. However, many would even question if you even had a girlfriend and more of a boyfriend. It would start off with her becoming a bit possessive over you when the two of yous would go on dates.

It would start with her hand on your thigh or around your waist, and now she would complain about the length of your dress and try to force you to change. "You can not wear that out tonight. Baby people are gonna stare at you," she pouted."i can wear what i want, love, and if people are gonna stare, it's pretty obvious that im taken with you around, " you responded, putting your heels on.

The next of her behaviours is her love for doing things for you. She'll never let you open any doors or will try to do anything for you, and as much as you love it, sometimes i would be nice to open the jars that are in the cupboards when cooking for the two of yous. "Leahhh, please let me open my own door. im not incapable of it even though it's cute" you winge trying to open the car door as she stands in front of the door "nooo pleaseee let me open the door for you" she begs you and you let her because you cant say no to her.

And your favourite one of her behaviours is her ability to spoil you with gifts even when you tell her that it's too expensive. It was late after work, and leah had left for an away game, and as you opened the door to a bouquet of red roses on the kitchen counter. So, in gratitude, you send her a text thanking her.

It was summer break, and Arsenal had set up a team gathering (clubbing), and leah had begged for you to come with her. Yous were sat around a really crowded booth, so leah made you sit on her lap with her hands around her waist. "Baby, stand up. i need to get drinks for the girls" leah said, tapping on your thigh.

Once she left the table to go to the bar, katie slid up next to you "so y/n are you sure you dont have a boyfriend" she said and you responded hitting her arm "yes im sure even though i do question it sometimes but she's my girlfriend with just a few too many boyfriend behaviours". As leah returned to the table, she made you sit on her laugh again, causing you to laugh. "What you laughing at love?" she asked "nothing its just sometimes i wonder whether i have a girlfriend or not" you responded to her, and she pouted towards you "its okay love i love you and all you're little quirks" you responded kissing her temple as she squeezed your waist.

[shotmrmiller]

this is just another pathetic!simon blurb. Not the second part to this. unedited.

Johnny is Simon's wingman.

One quiet evening, Johnny sits you on the bed and asks you if you'd do Simon a solid.

"A favor is me washing his clothes, or making him breakfast, Johnny! Not sucking him off!"

He is completely undeterred by your reaction and just grasps your hand to press a kiss on it. "Ach, dinnae be like that." He's out of his fucking mind, you think, and you move to walk away when he blocks the exit with his body.

"Bonnie. Just hear me out. Ghost, err, Simon, he's lonely. He's a big man, with an oppressive air about 'em, aye? His stare is unnerving to say the least. Lasses run for the hills when they see em— if they aren't frozen in place with terror."

You can feel your soft heart crack because Simon is so sweet, so kind— how can anyone be afraid of him? and that's what you tell Johnny.

He tightens his lips into a firm, white line to keep from telling you that the Simon you think is just so sweet, has shoved his tactical knife in between the ribs of his enemies remorselessly, and breaks their necks without a second thought. He snuffs out life as if it were the only thing he was good at.

"Aye, bonnie. He's not very good when it comes to lasses. He can be intense, and not a lot of people can handle that," Johnny kisses the palm of your hand, "But not ye— yer good at handling intense." And then he says the most pitiful thing you've heard. "It's been decades since someone's touched him willingly."

Johnny's eyes glow as he physically sees you give in, and you've barely given your assent when he's bolting out the bedroom door.

With a shaky exhale, you get up and start to change into something more comfortable. You're probably gonna be on your knees for a while.

--

You gape once you see Simon pull out his manhood. "Er...How are you, uh- what?"

Simon's cock is huge. Monstrous, even. It's so heavy it doesn't even stand erect— just falls downward. He's so thick, you don't think you can even wrap your hand around it. His balls hang low— full and would overflow your hand if you cupped them.

At least he trims.

Simon took his mask off for this, so when you look up at him through your lashes, his cheeks are ruddy, and he's nervously biting his bottom lip.

In a comforting gesture, you extend your hand and take his hand in yours, applying gentle pressure to his curled fingers, coaxing him to let go of the tension.

"Relax, Simon. You're alright. Nothing I can't handle."

Johnny is watching you proudly as he sits next to Simon on the edge of the mattress.

"Aye, LT. She'll treat ye right, wont ye bonnie?"

You nod, and shuffle closer, to be inches from Simon's length.

"I've got you. Just feel, hm?" Slowly and deliberately, you interlace your fingers with Simon's. "I'm gonna start now, okay?"

Sticking your tongue out, you tentatively lick his slit, tasting the leaking pre-cum, and swirl your tongue around his head. When you encase your lips around his tip, his hot, salty seed is instantly coating your tongue.

You let go of his hand to wrap it around him and pump as you bob your head, helping him ride out his orgasm. The moment you feel him stop twitching in your hand, you pull away and are about to swallow— only for Simon to lean down and slant his lips over yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He curls it around yours, completely uncaring that he's tasting himself.

He breaks the kiss and licks his cum and your saliva from the corner of his lips.

Johnny laughs as he reaches down to wipe the mess left behind with his thumb.

"That was a filthy kiss, wasn't it bonnie?" and then he turns his attention to Simon, murmuring into his ear loud enough for you to hear. "How was Bonnie's mouth, LT? Was it like ye hoped? Her slick tongue against your slit? I bet it felt heavenly."

You don't know if it's the thought of your lips wrapped around him, or if it's Johnny so close to Simon's ear that his lips graze the shell of his ear, but Simon's length stirs, rising to half-mast.

It's been 2 minutes, and he's ready to go again.

--

Simon must've gotten more comfortable, or his mind is simply hazy with lust, because the moment you put him into your mouth, he harshly thrusts into you, blocking off your air and triggering your gag reflex.

The hurck you choked out was unattractive and thank goodness Johnny was here because his reaction was almost instantaneous.

"Ghost, no— ye cannae do that, aye? Yer much too large for her, have tae take it slow," and chuckles. "Otherwise, she might bite."

Simon speaks for the first time that evening. "I don' mind a little teeth."

Johnny cackles. "Whether ye like it or nae, ye have tae be considerate. Let her work ye, she knows what she's doin'."

You stick him in your mouth again, and this time flatten your tongue as you go as deep as you can, and curl it to drag along the thick vein on the underside of his cock when you pull back.

Johnny hisses and asks Simon if it feels good. If the tip of your tongue is snagging on the ridge of his flared head— if it feels like your throat wants to swallow him whole.

Simon's ears are red, and he's panting harshly as he jerkily nods at what Johnny's saying, never looking away from you as you work him into another peak.

He comes with a snarl when you cup his balls, and a fingernail scrapes the thin, sensitive skin of his perineum.

Johnny coos at Simon, "Oh, that must've been delicious, the way her fingers stroke ye. The way her throat closes up around ye when ye push a little too far."

Simon spurts more cum onto your tongue when he hears that.

--

You've been on your knees for what felt like hours, and Simon comes for the fifth time that night when you slightly pinch the tender skin of his head with your teeth.

This time, Simon grabs himself to come over your face— viscous, globs of cum over your eyes and nose. He taps his cock on your cheek, a sticky slapping noise resonating in the room.

--

You sit with your eyes closed and hear someone get up and walk toward the bathroom, hopefully to get you a bloody towel, when you feel a strong, wet tongue drag across your cheekbone.

"Gross, Simon."

"Nae, bonnie, it's really not that bad. Otherwise, ye widnae have swallowed most of everythin' LT gave ye."

"Gross, Johnny."

@pieckyghost i aint finna get locked up again!

[pickingupmymercedes]

She's not here, but she'll be - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Series: She's here and she's ours / She's here and she's not only ours / She's here and she's just like you / She's not here, but she'll be / She's here and she won't be the only one / She's here and he won't let her give up / She's here and so is he / She's here and so are we - (they can all be read as one-shots)

requests: "hello can i request one with lewis where he has been having a baby fever ... fluff and smut of course. and can we have a very slow and sexy one because he wants to take his time with her 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻" - anon 2 ;

"hi, can I request a prequel to She's here and she's ours ... maybe it was hard to conceive and things weren't always all flowers" - anon 1

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: mentions of troubles with infertility, unprotected sexual activities (all sorts)

Also, wrap it before you tap it guys

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Combined requests again because anon 2 asked for something that gave me the idea for the prequeal (sorry for how long it took anon 1, but hope the wait was worth it)

a/n.2: The tone of this whole series is mixing angst and fluff, this time I added a bit of smut too, hope you guys like it

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

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The discarded ovulation test lay on the bathroom counter, a white plastic screaming what her ovulation app had already warned to. Y/n stared at it, not really sure she even wanted to know about it that month.

The more you want something, the harder it is. That's what they said anyway, and apparently it wasn't any different when it came to “trying” to get pregnant, a euphemism that felt increasingly hollow with each passing cycle.

Doctors assured her a year was still considered normal, but the constant hum of wanting, the way it colored every conversation, every shared glance, was starting to wear on them both.

Six months. Six months of basal body temperatures, ovulation predictors, and Lewis’ frustrated attempts at scheduling "baby time" around his chaotic schedule.

“Again?” as Lewis emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he saw her face, then the test on her hands and his smile faltered.

He sighed, walking over to wrap his arms around Y/n. She leaned into him, but the spark of hope she usually felt was absent.

"It's been too long, Lew" she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. " The schedules, apps, and ovulation calendars. It's driving me insane."

“Maybe we just need to try harder” he suggested, trying to be optimistic. But the forced cheer didn't fool her.

“Harder?” Y/n pulled back slightly, the edge in her voice surprising even herself. “Lewis, it's like we're robots. Everything's always timed, charted…”

Lewis turned to face her. "You think I enjoy this? Every time we fail, it's like there's this... pressure. Like if it doesn't work, it's my fault."

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting his. "It's not about fault. It's about us. It feels like we’re losing sight of why we wanted this in the first place."

"It's not supposed to feel calculated, is it?" he said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. "We both want this, right?"

"Of course, we do," Y/n insisted, her voice a touch too sharp. "But it's like we're robots following a program instead of… you know, a couple."

He took a step back, his face contorting with hurt. "That's not fair, Y/N. We’re trying our best here. Circumstances might not be the most ideal but it’s what we got"

Tears welled up in her eyes, her frustration boiling over. Lewis's shoulders slumped as he saw the evident fear in her eyes, his anger giving way to hopelessness. "I just... I don't know what else to do."

"Maybe," Y/N's voice held such certainty that surprised even herself, "maybe we should take a break.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise starting to take hold in his eyes. "A break? From trying?"

"Yeah," she took a deep breath before continuing, a growing conviction in her tone. "From the apps, schedules, calendar, the whole... stress. We just focus on us, and why we want this."

He was silent for a moment, considering her words. "What if it takes even longer?"

"Then... we'll deal with that when we get there," she said, her hand gently touching his cheek. "I want this pregnancy, but not like this. Not at the cost of us."

Lewis closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of their struggles hanging heavy in the air. He shook his head with an understanding nod "We've been so caught up in this that we've forgotten about us." he whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

"I love you; you know ?!" she whispered, the words catching him by surprise in their suddenness. She hadn't said them in days, maybe weeks, the unspoken worry choking the words back.

Lewis tilted his head, his gaze searching hers. "I love you, always." His voice was laced with tenderness. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "We'll get there " he whispered. "We'll have our family. I believe that with all my heart."

The positive pregnancy test felt surreal. Lewis and Y/n sat on the bed, the silence in the room only broken by the soft hum of the air conditioner. The digital test lay between them, its stark message still blinking: "Pregnant 5-6 weeks."

Y/n turned to Lewis, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and disbelief. "This can’t be real," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’ve been on the pill... we weren’t even trying."

Lewis stared at the test, then at her, his mind struggling to process the information. "We haven't thought about having kids for over a year." he stated, his voice filled with bewilderment

Tears filled Y/n’s eyes, but this time a mix of confusion and hope. "I didn’t even think about missing my period." she confessed. "I thought it was just the stress of the season, the move, the change in routines…"

Lewis wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "This is real," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We’re really going to be parents."

They sat there for a while, holding each other, the reality of their news slowly sinking in. The past months of not even considering pregnancy, of relying on birth control, seemed to amplify the miracle of this moment. The weight of their previous struggles felt lighter, replaced by the shock and anticipation of the new life they had miraculously created.

"Five to six weeks," Y/n murmured, looking at the test again. "How could this happen?"

Lewis frowned, trying to remember. "What were we doing around then?" he asked, his brow furrowing in thought.

Y/n bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. "I don’t know... maybe I missed a pill or something. But I really thought I was careful."

Lewis looked at her thoughtfully, his fingers tracing soothing circles on her hands “That’s not on you love, we decided on no condoms, remember?! We knew it could happen”.

Then, out of the blue with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Wait a minute," he said, his eyes lighting up with realization. "Silverstone."

Y/n’s eyes widened as she remembered and stated "Silverstone!” Lewis nodded, a grin spreading across his face. Y/n's cheeks flushed as she recalled the night. She looked at Lewis, a smile spreading across her face despite the lingering shock.

Lewis looked at her, his grin widening. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

Y/n laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I guess we were celebrating more than just you that night."

"We were celebrating us" Lewis said, his voice filled with warmth and love. "And now, we have even more to celebrate."

He leaned in, kissing her tenderly, resting their foreheads against each other when they pulled back.

"We're going to be parents," she whispered, the reality finally settling in.

"We're going to be parents," Lewis echoed, his heart swelling with joy and excitement. "I love you, Y/n. And I love our little one so much already."

The Silverstone circuit buzzed with the electric energy of a crowd celebrating a hero’s homecoming. Lewis, now a Ferrari driver, had held his own, going from p3 at the starting line to the tallest step of the podium, beaming as the Union Jack waved above him.

After the race, the celebration shifted to a more intimate setting. Lewis’s family, Y/n, and a tight-knit group of friends gathered at a house in the countryside nearby. The energy of the race lingered, laughter and music filling the air. It was a night of toasts.

As the party slowly wound down, the house fell silent. Guests retired to their rooms, and the sun began to hint at its arrival on the horizon, leaving Lewis and Y/n by themselves in the garden, the weight of the day finally sinking in.

“Can you believe it?” Lewis whispered, his voice hoarse from cheering. He was sprawled on the couch, Y/n nestled against him.

“You were amazing,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “I’m so proud of you.”

He kissed her forehead gently, his eyes closing as he felt the exhaustion wash over him. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll celebrate properly tomorrow.”

Y/n nodded, her eyelids heavy and he led them to their bedroom.

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the unknown room. Y/n stirred, her body snug against Lewis’s as he spooned her, one arms securely holding her close and the other serving as her pillow.

As she shifted, she felt a familiar pressure against her back. She turned slightly, her eyes opening to find Lewis still asleep, his breathing was steady, but she could feel his arousal pressing into her. A soft moan escaped his lips as he dreamt, his hips subtly moving against her.

Y/n smiled to herself, a gentle warmth spreading through her at the feeling of him. She shifted again, trying not to wake him, but his eyes fluttered open. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning, champ,” she replied softly, turning her head to look at him.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling despite the lingering fatigue. “I must have been having a really good dream,” he joked, his hand sliding down to rest on her hip.

Y/n chuckled, pressing back against him. “I noticed” she teased rubbing her ass with a bit more vigor against him.

She could feel his arousal growing more insistent as his breaths came out in hisses. She bit her lip, considering their options. “Do you think anyone’s awake?” she whispered, glancing towards the door.

“Probably,” Lewis replied, his hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to caress her skin. “But we can be quiet.”

A shiver ran through her at his touch, and she nodded. “I doubt you’ll let me” her voice dropping to a whisper. He smiled mischievously, his fingers trailing up her side. “I’ll try,” he promised.

Slowly, he rolled her onto her side, spooning her again from behind. He nuzzled into her neck, his hand sliding down to the waistband of her shorts. She held her breath as his fingers slipped inside, brushing against her most sensitive spot.

She gasped softly, biting her lip to stifle the sound. “Lew” she breathed, her hips instinctively pressing back against him.

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, teasing and exploring until she was panting with need. Her hands gripped the sheets, trying to stay quiet as he worked her up.

When he finally slid a finger inside her, she had to bite down on the pillow to keep from crying out. He added another finger, stretching her gently, his movements unhurried and tender. She could feel his breath hot against her neck, his own restraint evident in the way he held her.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yeah” she whispered, barely able to speak. “Please.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips as he slowly pushed inside. She moaned softly, the feeling of him filling her almost overwhelming. He paused once he was fully seated, giving her time to adjust, the pause also helping him control his breathing.

When she took a deep breath, relaxing into the sensation of him with a “You can move.” he started with slow, gentle thrusts, his arms wrapped tightly around her. The rhythm was languid, each movement measured and precise. Y/n’s breaths came in short, quiet gasps, her body trembling with each stroke.

The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, the occasional creak of the bed as they moved together. Every so often, she had to remind him to stay quiet, her whispers blending with his low grunts.

When he hit a particularly sensitive spot, she bit back a cry, his hand reaching to cover her mouth. She licked her fingers, his thrusts becoming more insistent with the scene.

“I can’t… I’m so close,” she panted, her voice muffled against his hand, her body arching against him.

“Just a little longer, love, I’m almost there.” He quickened his pace, each movement somehow reaching deeper.

Lewis’s body tensed, his toes curling as he felt her walls starting to flutter, and with a final, deep thrust, he came shortly after her, their bodies shaking with the intensity of it. She buried her face in the pillow, stifling her cries as Lewis held her tightly and lowly grunted into her neck.

For a moment, they lay there, catching their breath, the room filled with the soft glow of morning light. Finally, Lewis pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder, just below where he had left his mark, his arms still wrapped around her.

“Best celebration ever,” he whispered, a satisfied smile on his face. Y/n laughed softly, turning her head to kiss him. “Next time though, we’ll wait until I can have my way with you, no muffed moans”

She chuckled, nuzzling into his neck. “Deal.”

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.

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Enchanted to Meet You - Colin Bridgerton

A/N: I am so hype for the new season, and Colin isn't even my favorite Bridgerton sibling. When I was thinking of who should get Enchanted, I knew the story had to happen at a beautiful ball, so really this was one of the only choices. (There may be more Enchanted inspired fics, who's to say!) Hope you enjoy!

TS Prompt #6: Enchanted

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Reader Word Count: 3.0k Synopsis: After years of knowing, and not liking each other, Colin and the reader meet again at a ball, and share a magical evening together.

"Isn't that your second glass?" Eloise asks, a glass of champagne in her own gloved hand.

"No. It's my third," you say. She doesn't even try to hide the un-ladylike snort she lets out.

"I thought your mother said one."

"She did," you say, peering about the crowded ballroom for her deep red dress. "But, as this is my third ball of the season, I thought it only fitting."

"I'm sure she'll see it that way, too," Eloise says sarcastically.

It was true, this was your third ball, but the three glasses of champagne didn't really have anything to do with that. The matching numbers did add some kind of magic to the night, but truly, you just needed them to get through the evening.

It was your first year out, and after three balls, you weren't sure you would ever find someone to marry. It wasn't like you hadn't had callers. You had blossomed in the last year. So much so, that people often did a double take when they looked upon you. It wasn't so much that they weren't interested in you, but that you weren't in them.

This evening was looking to be another night of forcing laughter and faking smiles with men you had no interest in. The thought of another glass of champagne was too enthralling.

"I don't believe it," Eloise says, leaving your side. You watch her nearly run across the ballroom, and run into the arms of a man. When they break away, you see it is Colin, returned from his travels around the world.

It is hard to believe, but he has become more handsome, in his travels. You spent years and years at the Bridgerton household, and never found Colin anything other than annoying. He was the brother closest in age to Eloise, and he spent most of his time picking on the two of you.

But walking towards you now is a man. A very handsome man, whose smile seems to make your insides melt. You think you might melt, too, as he walks up to you.

"Have we met?" he says, taking your hand in his.

"Are you joking?" you ask, watching as he places a soft kiss to your gloved hand. "Colin, it's me."

"Y/N?" he asks quietly, his brow furrowed as he studies your face.

"Of course it's Y/N, you idiot," Eloise says, slapping his arm.

"You . . . you look completely different," he says.

"Bad different?"

"No, no, not bad at all," he says. He stares at you for a moment longer, seemingly speechless.

"Oh cut it out, will you?" Eloise says, "Both of you are staring like you've never seen the other before."

"Well, he looks different, too," you say, "A good different," you add, looking to him. He smiles, his mouth turned up to one end in playful amusement.

"Eloise, I hope you do not mind if I ask Miss Y/L/N to dance," he says. Eloise begins to say she does mind, but your mind is only on Colin as you drop your hand into his.

You are trembling as he leads you out onto the dancefloor. You have danced this dance hundreds of times before, and have done so to this exact song at the previous two balls. But now, the man in front of you is Colin, and that makes it completely new.

When he pulls you into his arms, your chests a touch closer than societally acceptable, you aren't breathing.

"Hello," he says softly.

"Hello," you say, as the music begins around you. Your moves are instinctual, as you let him lead you into the dance. He is still studying you, his eyes on every angle of your face. You laugh at his ministrations.

"What?" he asks.

"You act as if you don't know me."

"Well, I don't."

"I've spent nearly every summer at the Bridgerton household."

"No, that was Eloise's annoying childhood friend, that wasn't you," he says, his eyes locking on yours.

"Well, it has been a while since we've seen each other. And I have changed."

"I can tell," he says deeply. Goosebumps appear along your neck, and you watch his eyes track them.

"You've changed, too," you say, "Traveling agrees with you."

"Thank you," he says. He spins you out of his arms and back in. "How are you enjoying your first season?"

"Truthfully, it has been pretty boring so far."

"Boring?" he asks in surprise. "Don't tell me you've been a wallflower."

"Oh, on the contrary, everyone seems to notice how much I've changed," you say with a grin, making him laugh, "It's just, I haven't found their company as agreeable."

"And how about my company?" he asks, his voice quiet again.

"I'm not sure yet," you say thoughtfully, studying his face. "But so far, you are certainly a far better dancer than any of the other men I've danced with."

"Really? I'm honored."

The music comes to an end, and both of your hands linger for a moment longer on the other. The dancefloor starts to shift as couples enter and leave. You are supposed to be dancing with Lord Charmbord for the polka.

"Care to have some more fun?" Colin asks.

"What?"

"If you don't mind leaving Lord . . ." he trails off as he touches your wrist again, glancing at your dance card. "Lord Charmbord in the lurch, I'd be happy to prove that my company is much more enjoyable," he says. There is mischief in his eyes, and you know you will go wherever he wants you to.

"Where to?" you ask.

"Meet me at the fork in the gardens," he whispers in your ear, as he walks past you casually. Again, the goosebumps appear.

You walk off the dancefloor, keeping your head down so that no one, especially Lord Charmbord or your mother, see you slip out onto the terrace.

There are a few couples lingering out on the balcony, but they are too involved in their conversations to notice you move down the steps to the garden. You move silently as you look around for Colin, or anyone else.

Scandal would be sure to follow you if anyone were to catch you out here, but you can't bring yourself to care right now. This is the first time all season that you have felt anything, and you aren't going to let it go.

As you round a bend in the gardens, hands grab your waist and you nearly scream out. Quickly, though, Colin turns you around and reveals himself. You clutch a hand to your pounding heart.

"You frightened me," you say.

"I'm sorry," he says, laughter still in his eyes.

"No, you aren't," you say with a laugh.

"No, I'm not. But I am glad you met me here."

"Well, I was promised good company,” you say. Colin straightens, a smirk on his face, as he extends his arm to you.

“A promise I intend to make good on.” He leads you deeper into the maze like garden, as if he has explored it before. Before you can ask, he says, "You know, I used to play with the lord's son when we were kids. He knew where all of the hiding spots were in here, and challenged me to hunt him down. It took a few years, but I was eventually able to find all of his spots, and a few of my own."

"So if I asked you to hide right now . . ."

"You would not find me."

"You assume so little about my seeking skills?" you joke.

"No, just that my hiding ones are much more polished."

"Ah. Well, I should hate for us to have to split up, anyhow."

"As would I. You know, I still can't truly believe that you're you."

"I really haven't change, Mr. Bridgerton," you say.

"No?" he asks, looking you over thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps I have."

"You have."

"How so?" he asks, a small smile on his face. You look him over for a long moment before smiling back.

"You've gotten taller," you say. Colin lets out a tut of laughter.

"Indeed."

"But, I'm sure it's also your travels that are to blame for the man I met tonight."

"I would agree with that estimate," he says, "I learned a lot during my journeys that I am not sure I would have ever discovered at home."

"I can't help but feel envious," you say, "I've always wanted to travel, too."

"Really? Where to?" he asks.

"Anywhere, truthfully. But I've always been fascinated by Florence."

"It is truly gorgeous," he says with a nod.

"You've been?"

"I have. They have absolutely the best food of any of the places I've been. But what's more is they even have the best dances."

"The best dances?"

"Yes, they've taken our plain old quadrille and changed it into something magical," he says. He seems to notice the excitement in your eyes, because his smile only grows. "I couldn't help but notice that you're an accomplished dancer."

"Oh, please," you say, self-depreciatingly, "I'm passable, but certainly wouldn't call myself accomplished."

"I had no complaints," he says softly. He waits for you to give him a smile before continuing. "And if you spent one day in Florence, I know you would out dance every woman in there."

"They are truly that good?" you ask.

"Would you like me to show you?" he asks. He has come to a stop in the center of the gardens. A large fountain trickles softly behind him, the air moist with the shooting spouts. You study him for a moment, waiting for him to say he was joking, to turn back to the Colin you had known.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"Of course," he says, holding out his hand.

"There's no music."

"You don't need to hear the music to feel it," he says, taking your hand in his and pulling you in close. "Just follow along. It's got the same steps as the quadrille you know, but with a little more movement."

You nod your head and focus on the moves. Without music playing, it is a little harder to get into the rhythm, but he is correct, after a few steps, you can feel the music echoing inside of you.

His hand on your waist presses slightly, making your hips move more fluidly. You are certain if anyone were to see, it would mean scandal, but you cannot fight the smile growing on your face. Again, he shows you how to add more movement into a step, bringing the two of you closer again.

You have danced through one whole song in your head, and you don't want to stop anytime soon. Never in your life before have you danced like this. You feel so free, so graceful. And it is at this feeling, that you trip on an upturned stone and crash into Colin's arms.

The music has stopped playing in your mind. There is only the soft sound of water, the trill of crickets, and your pounding heart.

You have never been this close to a man. Your chest is flush against his. You can feel his breath, and watch as he looks down, too, at your bodies pressed together.

His eyes catch yours and everything seems to slow. There is only his warm brown eyes, locked onto your own, and the hand on your back that moves softly, comfortingly.

"Colin," you whisper. He smiles widely.

"I like when you say my name."

"I've said it a million times before," you say with a laugh.

"You've never said it like that."

"We should be heading back," you say. The hand on your back grows firmer, like he would do anything to keep you against him.

"No one knows we're out here," he says.

"My mother will come looking soon."

"Y/N," he whispers, his head ducking so that his words dance over your neck. You shiver slightly, and his smile only grows.

"I see what you mean," you say, looking back up at him, "I like the way you say my name, too." The look on his face is purely prideful.

"Don't go back inside," he says.

"We'll both be ruined."

"What if I don't care?" he asks.

"You do care," you say gently, "And so do I."

"Perhaps you're right."

"I am right, Colin," you say, beginning to pull away. He pulls you back in and your lips are a breath from his. His eyes flicker between your own and your lips, that are practically begging to be kissed. Your eyes close, against your better instinct, and you lean in.

Snap!

In an impossibly quick moment, Colin has pushed you out of his arms and ducked into an alcove of the garden. You wait for someone to appear, for your reputation to be ruined, but no one comes. Another minute passes and Colin comes out.

"Perhaps, you should get back inside, Y/N."

"Where did you run off to?" you ask, jumping again at his appearance. Before he can answer, you sigh. "Right," you say with a laugh.

"Let's get you back inside," he says. "That was too close."

Colin does get you back into the ball without scandal falling on you.

When you find your mother again, her face is nearly as red as her dress. Clearly, she has not followed her own rule regarding glasses of champagne. She says that Lord Charmbord had been searching for you, but you can't even begin to pretend to care.

For the rest of the ball, your eyes are always on Colin. Unfortunately, you don't get to spend any more of the evening with him. The closest you get is a moment on the dancefloor where you briefly switch partners.

His hand meets yours at the same time his eyes do, and once again, the world around you is gone. There is only the music and his face, looking at you in a way you can't precisely name, but that you're dying to know.

But just as soon as it happens, it is over, and you are back in the arms of a man you have absolutely no interest in.

As the night comes to a close, you bid Eloise and Lady Bridgerton goodnight. You can't help peering around the both of them for Colin, but just when it appears he is not coming and you have turned towards the exit, he calls your name.

"Miss Y/L/N," he says dashingly, "I would be remiss if I didn't bid you a goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton," you say, watching as he bends down to kiss your hand. Quietly, so that only you can hear, he says, "Say it just once more, please."

"Goodnight, Colin," you whisper. When he stands up straight, he is fighting off a smile. He bids your mother goodbye, and then you are getting handed off into your carriage, and ripped away from what feels like the first real night of your life.

The ride home is quiet. You answer your mother's few questions, but when she can see you're in no mood to talk, she sinks into her own thoughts.

The countryside is dark, but as you look out upon it, you can't help but wish. Wish that this was the very first page of your story with Colin, not where your story line will end. That he was as enchanted by you as much as you were by him. And pray that he is not in love with someone else.

At home, when you finally get into bed, you are restless. You toss and turn well into the early hours, questions rolling about your mind, all about Colin.

Too early the next morning, you are awoken by a lady's maid. The day after a ball is always busy. Gentleman callers all morning, and mothers and daughters in the afternoon, to get caught up on the morning callers.

While your handmaidens go about getting you dressed and pinning your hair up, you can't help but relieve the night before. It sparkles in your mind - truly the most perfect night you could have imagined.

You pray that it is not the last, but you know that you have to remain practical. Besides the looks and smiles he gave you, Colin did not lead on that he was interested in marriage anytime soon. You, on the other hand, were very interested in getting wed off this season.

As you walk down the steps to your sitting room, you assure yourself that it will be okay, if Colin does not feel the same.

"It is too early for callers!"

At the foot of the stairs, you hear your doorman arguing in hushed tones. You can hear another voice, but not clearly enough to match the sound to its owner. Before you can open the door and find out, your mother comes bustling down the staircase and passes you.

"Who could it be at this hour!" she says, ripping open the door.

Colin Bridgerton is standing in your doorway, a bouquet of orange tulips in hand. His eyes are wide when they circle to meet yours, but then they soften.

"Y/N," he says gently. The doorman stutters a response at this lack of formality, so Colin corrects himself. "I mean, Miss Y/L/N. Mrs. Y/L/N," he says, turning to look at your mother.

"I apologize for the early arrival, but I wanted to be the first here," he says.

"The first here for what?" your mother asks in shock.

"To call upon Miss Y/L/N, of course. You see, I shared quite an exquisite time with her last night, and hope that I may spend more time in her good company."

"Really?" you and your mother ask in unison. You laugh, and feeling bold, walk towards Colin. Still keeping a respectful distance from him, knowing that your doorman was watching closely, you take the tulips from him.

"Really," he says. "I was enchanted to meet you again, Y/N. Please don't have someone waiting on you."

"Not at all," you say. "Would you like to come in for tea, Colin?"

"I would love to," he says with a grin that nearly takes your breath away.

[cammys-imagines24]

°•NSFW Abby Headcanons•°

Abby likes when you yank on her braid. Either to pull her down to your height for a kiss or when she's eating you out, how you tug on her hair as if it were a horses reins, guiding her to exactly where you need her.

Size kink. This woman gets off on the fact that she's so much bigger than you. How, if she wanted to have her way with you, there's absolutely nothing you could do to fight her off.

Her whole body was practically made to dominate you and make you suffer (in a good way.) From her big, calloused hands, to her meaty thighs, her thick, buff arms and substantial height.

Just the thought of her being able to easily maneuver your body and use you in anyway she pleases gets her so, so wet.

How she could deny you your own pleasure and you couldn't fight her off... but, she's much too giving to deny you for too long. Unless you're being a brat of course.

Not into choking per say, however... Abby's hands just look so nice around your pretty, little neck. She'll place her palm around your throat to guide you to where she wants and so your eyes stay on hers, but never will she squeeze. She doesn't want to accidentally hurt you.

Loves to stretch you out with her thick fingers. The sight of her fingers disappearing in your tight hole does something feral to her and with every digit she adds, she can't help but growl.

Heavily into marking and by that I mean, you marking her. There's just something about how when she's pounding into you with her strap, the way you claw into her back...

Your nails dragging angry, red lines down her shoulder muscles and the curve of her spine to find purchase as you scream her name.

She'll admire those scratches in the mirror the morning after endlessly. Smirking at the memories of you two that flash in her mind.

Obsessed with how soft you are compared to her. Your breasts and ass, the malleable flesh she can grab on your tummy and your squeezable hips. There are times where she will be walking by you and just have to slap your ass just to see it jiggle nicely for her.

Sit on her face. It's one of Abby's favorite things and don't pull that hovering bullshit.

She will force you down onto her mouth and nose with her herculean arms and keep you there even if you protest.

Her nose bumping against your clit, her tongue expertly moving in between your folds, her hands leaving imprints upon your thighs from how hard she's forcing you to stay still on top of her.

The type to say the most sugar sweet praises while she's absolutely pounding you into the mattress.

"I love you, you know that? You're so good, so good for me, hon. Taking me so well."

Your cheek pressed against the sheets, her big arms caging around you, thick fingers kneading bruises into your hips. A handprint on your ass.

"Love you, baby. You're the best. All pretty for me, huh? So beautiful when I'm fucking you."

If she could get you pregnant, she would 100%. There's just something primal that clicks in her head when she's using her strap on you. She wishes it were a real cock and she could really fill you up.

Abby's thought about you two having kids more than she'd like to admit.

The type to have the softest aftercare ever, all traces or her dominance stripped bare.

Abby may have used you until you thought you'd pass out, never relenting despite how much you begged for a break, given you so many orgasms you thought you couldn't breathe and you saw stars in your tired, teary eyes...

But, as quick as the snap of a finger, she turns into sweet, caring Abby once more.

She'll wash you clean, smirking at how you whimper from being still so sensitive and run the calloused pads of her fingers along the bruises she left from manhandling you.

You won't be leaving her arms anytime soon. She'll engulf you in her warmth, kissing the love bites she left on your neck and whispering how much she loves you.

"My pretty girl, always so perfect. Rest up, yeah?"

She'll say in a low rasp, lips against your skin and your body encompassed by hers.

[hellenhighwater]

Mildly weird question for story research purposes: when your cats ride on your shoulder, what does it feel like for you?

Context: My main character has a cat who likes to ride around on her shoulder, and since it's a thing that happens frequently, I'm trying to make sure I write about it well. And, unfortunately, I do not have a cat to even attempt to test it with, so I'm going to the one person I KNOW has experience with this situation.

Specific things that would be helpful to know:

Do you have to be careful not to upset their balance, or can you more or less walk normally once they're up there?

How are they keeping themselves up there? Are there claws involved? Or just good balance?

Where's most of their weight? I looked back at some pictures/vids, and it looks like they typically ride with their front paws on the shoulder and their back paws somewhere a bit below and beside your neck, but I could be wrong.

How long can they stay on your shoulder before one of you has to take a break? Is the weight of the cat tiring, or is it pretty easy to deal with?

Anything else I should be aware of regarding shoulder cats?

Thank you SO MUCH for your help!

Oh, I can definitely answer that! One: It's waaay easier to shoulder a small cat than a big one.

For the most part, they kind of drape themselves over the shoulder; this is specifically what I've trained them to do. Cats will also "shoulder" by draping across both shoulders/back of neck, but this forces your head forward to allow room for them, and it's not comfy. Hence the trained posture. (Malice, in the early days:)

I taught Mal to jump up when I bent forward for her, and circle to face front while I stood up. She can actually do that pretty quickly. Their weight is pretty evenly distributed across the top of the shoulder and down on the pectoral, not really on the back at all. Mal sometimes hooks her back claws into my shirt near the shoulderblade, which is more about balance than weight support. Nim, who was significantly smaller, actually kept her back feet tucked up so that her feet were on the top of my shoulder. This is a significantly more ready posture than Mal's--she would have to readjust for a better foothold to jump down; Nim could leap directly off at a moment's notice. Overall, Nim had far superior shouldering skills to Mal. Malice rides like the meatball she is; I'm hoping she'll learn with age. Here's some pictures of Nim:

To give them a stable position, I do keep my back straight and shoulders back; if I have to pick something up, I will crouch down instead of bending over. If I have to bend forwards, I will put my palm up flat so that they can stand with their front paws on it and keep their body on my shoulder. Generally, I can move, walk, and even work normally. I've cooked, painted, done chores, even run. Both hands are free to use, though generally you can't lift the arm the cat is on above a T position. They don't need to use their claws for balance unless I am doing something really active. I do shoulder almost exclusively on my left shoulder, so that my dominant hand is more free.

The weight is not significant--Nim was only about 8 lbs, Mal is about 11, and because there's no grip to maintain them and they're naturally situated on the shoulder, it's easy to carry them for a long time. I used to walk miles with Nim on my shoulder. It's actually more the heat--cats run hot, and it's a lot of fur on your neck and shoulder if it's warm out. Great in the winter, though!

Notable things you might not realize--their head is in front of yours, so you can still see ear positions, what they're looking at, etc. Nim's night vision/hearing/sense of smell was better than mine, so I could tell if we were sneaking on wildlife based on her reactions and responses to things. You can also feel them tense or adjust posture before they jump or try to get down, and you can feel their tail moving. You can also feel if they're growling or purring, even if you can't hear it. If you're used to paying attention to those cues, you'll notice them while just carrying the cat normally too--Nobody could sneak up behind me if I was carrying Nim facing over my shoulder to the back.

They can jump from shoulder height but it's a hard landing. Usually if I want them down, I just kneel with a knee up, or lift a leg flat while standing so they can jump to the top of my leg and then to the ground.

If I was in a fictional setting and traveling with them long term, I would be investing in a really weird piece of leather armor, that goes to the edge of the neck/crest of shoulder, and down past the bottom of the shoulderblade, with little easy-to-grip leather loops or chainmail on the back of the shoulder.