#and all you have to do is get the lens and angle right

[hum--hallelujah]

Elliot man up and give me some bokehs. don't be afraid Elliot. this is what you need to do.

[tojipie]

shiu x fem!reader x toji

content: (fem reader, heavy smut, soo much praise, filming sex, spitroasting, eiffel tower position, threesome, blowjobs, face fucking, cumming on face, aftercare)

summary: just another day at work ! :) nothing raunchy going on here

“fuck, that’s perfect,” shiu mumbles, crouching to get a better shot of where you and toji meet. 

the man rutting into you takes the note as a compliment, bucking his hips back to slam to the hilt. the guttural moan he draws out of you is nothing short of sinful, earning you a laugh from the cameraman.

“oh, the guys at home are gonna fucking love that,” he chuckles, standing to grab a shot of you laying face down, ass up on the leather couch.

a calloused hand raises your face to the camera, squeezing your cheeks into a pucker. you smile, taking note of your fucked out demeanor in the camera reflection. 

“feel good, pretty girl?” toji asks, still gripping your face. 

“mmhm,” you groan, making a show of rolling your eyes back into your head. 

the cameraman looks more than pleased, palming himself over his cheap dress pants. 

“such a treat to have in the studio, y’know that?” he wipes a mascara-filled tear while you look up at him for a brief moment. “driving me fucking crazy.”

the incessant pap-pap-pap of toji’s hips against your ass echo among the walls of the small casting room, nearly drowning out the praise with how hard he’s fucking you. still, you smile, letting the suit-clad cameraman brush your hair from your face.

“where’d you learn how to take dick like this, huh?” toji teases, switching his grip from your face to your shoulders. your scene partner uses his newfound leverage to pull you back onto his cock, groaning at the new angle. 

“only like this with you,” you moan, clenching at the sounds of approval both men give you.

“what, you forget about me?” shiu asks, feigning jealousy for the sake of the scene.

toji leans forward, chest-to-back as he whispers something in your ear. hard, deep thrusts slow to a grind as he speaks to you. you nod, giggling at shiu’s pointed look of confusion.

“what’s wrong?” the cameraman mouths, moving to turn the camera off. you beckon him over to the couch instead, jolting from the pick-up of your scene partner’s thrusts.

the two men share a look as you readjust the camera, gauging the shot in the crystalline glint of the lens. perfect, you think. he was going to love this. 

deft hands make haste with his belt, undoing the buckle ever so slowly. the two of you lock eyes for just an instant as his face contorts into a grin, setting the camera on his shoulder to throw his belt off to the side. 

“oh i get love too now?” he teases, unbuttoning his bottoms and letting you get to work. his ironed suit jacket hits the floor, dress shirt half open. 

“you’ve fucked her before genius,” toji adds, slowing the pace of his thrusts to let you work on the cameraman. he was right, off and on camera even.

shiu’s hard, unbearably so when you free him from his boxers and take him into your mouth. you can practically feel how difficult it is for him to not blow his load right then and there, especially after watching you and toji go at it for half an hour with no stimulation of his own.

“hah fuck— she knows what i like, right?” the question is rhetorical, he wants you to take the bait. 

and take the bait you do, pulling off his dick just enough to swirl your tongue around his aching tip.

the noise you earn is more than pornographic, it’s downright sinful, egging you on as you move to take him to the base. 

“you seein’ this?” shiu gasps, panning the camera up to toji who has since stopped fucking you to watch. thick, deft fingers come up to rub at your clit instead, making up for the lost simulation. 

shiu’s free hand reaches down to nestle into your hair, pulling taught. a quick look to make sure the camera lines up is all he gives you before deft hips snap forward, fucking your throat with urgency.

the two men share a look briefly, chuckling as toji finally ramps up the pace again. thick, hot lengths penetrate you from either side, overloading your brain with pleasure. 

“look up at the lens for me baby,” shiu gushes, losing his grip on your hair to cradle your cheek in his palm. you push back on the cock currently pummeling your walls, eagerly groaning for the camera.

“aww there we go, always our favorite star.”

the praise goes right to your head, throat opening up to allow more of his length in. he hisses at the stimulation, grumbling a soft “fuck this,” before setting the camera down on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

“oh, that’s a good fucking shot,” toji comments, pleased at the new camera angle. the thought of the studio’s loyal fanbase getting to watch you get spit-roasted by the hottest business partners in the industry pushes you closer to the edge.

“fuck, there.” shiu groans, pulling himself from your throat with an obscene squelch. a whoop rings out from behind you, no doubt from toji as viscous ropes of cum paint your cheeks— you swear you hear them high-five each other.

“shit, sorry about the mess,” he doesn’t sound sorry at all, tapping the head on your closed lips with a fucked-out smile.

salty cum floods your tastebuds as you work to clean his manhood off, pulling back with an audible pop and a smile. “s’ okay shiu.”

“that’s talent right there,” the camera man comments, clearly pleased with your performance. shiu tucks himself back into his dress pants, quietly motioning for you and toji to switch positions.

the raven-haired man wastes no time lifting you into the air, thick hands situated under your thighs for support.

the position alone might have gotten you close enough to come had he still been inside you. you’re held against his standing body only by the hands under your legs, back-to-chest as you face the camera. 

you hike your legs up, locking eyes with shiu as you’re lowered onto toji’s dick a final time. 

the stretch is absolutely obscene, filling you to the brim over and over again as he thrusts into you.

“perfect, perfect guys,” shiu leans closer to get a better shot of your face. “just like that.”

“you wanna tell everybody at home where you want it?” toji asks, biting your shoulder for good measure.

“inside—please.” you sigh, laughing at the obscene groan that sounds from behind the camera. shiu reaches down to rub your swollen clit for you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

hot seed floods your body a second time, warming you from the inside out. the things toji pants into your ear are obscene, overwhelming your senses while shiu’s hand deals out tiny pats to your clit.

you both sink onto the couch for the final time, the soft leather cushions embracing your tired bodies. shiu approaches with the camera, flipping through a couple of scenes to seek your shared approval.

you sit quietly as you're wiped down with a wet towel, still attached to toji at your most intimate points.

“tired angel? need to wash off?” he asks, maneuvering you on his dick to straddle him.

“yes please,” you mumble happily, resting your head on his shoulder. two sets of hands gently caress your body, wiping the last drops of fluid from your sweaty skin.

“you’re gonna make us all millionaires, i swear,” shiu mumbles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before stepping into the bathroom to draw you a bath.

[formulawolff]

celebratory drinks - f.a.

pairing: journalist!reader x aston martin!fernando alonso

word count: 938

warnings: a little bit of cursing, nando being a flirt, alcohol use (the champagne pop), references to alcohol consumption

song inspo for the fic: sky walker (feat. travis scott) by miguel, travis scott (i just think this one is so nando coded)

"there he is," your voice is clear, yet your hand trembles as you grasp the microphone, "i think now is my moment. there's no one else approaching him."

"well what are you waiting for?" camren, your trusty videographer and assistant whispers, "go, go, go get him!"

"okay, okay!" your jaw clenches, the words barely making it out of gritted teeth.

before you stands spanish driver fernando alonso, donned in his signature aston martin fire suit. it's gorgeous emerald hue is darker than usual, dampened by the champagne showers. his dark locks are dripping, sticking to the back of his neck underneath his cap.

yet, he's as gorgeous as ever, stubble ghosting along his jawline, his brows knit in concentration as he speaks with lance stroll, his fellow driver and teammate.

you take a step forward, swallowing the lump in your throat. it was now or never. the perfect window to interview him for only a few minutes before he would be whisked away to the designated media room for the post-race press debrief.

"mr. alonso!" you call, "is it all right if i speak with you for a few minutes? i won't take up too much of your time."

at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curl upward into a radiant grin, "of course! i'm in no rush, actually. you can stall me a little before i have to go debrief."

a giggle bubbles up in your throat as you tap your badge, "although i do have a media badge, i do want let you know that this is going to be a very relaxed, very informal interview. i run a youtube channel that covers all things formula one. we talk a lot about you, actually."

"oh?" he arches a brow, "is that right?"

heat billows into your cheeks as you realize what you just blurted out. in front of one of your idols, no less. yet, you don't sense discomfort from the driver. if anything, he seemed more intrigued, his eyes taking you in as you sucked in a breath.

"well, we're doing a bit about your history with formula one," your voice is tad shaky, but you regain your confidence as he nods enthusiastically, "and of course, we're currently covering your time with aston martin. so, i wanted you to tell me if there was anything unique about your experience with aston martin thus far."

the driver blinks, processing your question for a moment. he brings a hand to his chin, shrugging slightly, "i think i can say that this team has been able to welcome me in with open arms. i'm sure you know that there is a lot of talk in the world of formula one with my age and all that, but they have been nothing but accepting and supportive."

"what has been your favorite moment of the season thus far? anything exciting or funny you'd like to share with us? also, when are you going to bring back that infamous celebratory dance?"

at the mention of the dance, there's a glimmer in his eye, "oh, so you know about that?"

"of course i do," you affirm, "our channel is dedicated to the history of formula one. i'm supposed to know it all, from the historical wins to the celebration dances."

"i can recreate it for you if you would like," he offers, his shoulders relaxing, he points to the camera, earning a laugh from camren, "here, watch this."

he pinches his shoulder blades together, raising his arms so that his elbows and wrists were angled. he sways back and forth, maintaining eye contact with the camera lens.

you can't help but laugh, the sound ringing out, "you're pretty ridiculous, mr. alonso."

"please," fernando waves a hand, "no need for the formalities bullshit. call me fernando."

"all right, fernando," you beam, "well, i think that's all i have for you. i didn't want to keep you for too long. i know you're a busy man."

that's when the driver pauses, taking a second to really look at you. his gaze rakes over your body, his tongue swiping along your lower lip.

for the race, you opted for a comfortable yet sort of glam look. on your top half, you sported a plain black t-shirt, the material a breathable cotton. denim jeans stretched down your legs, a mom-jean like style so that the thick fabric didn't cling to your frame. to compliment the shirt, you wore a black belt, pairing it with black adidas sambas. your hair was pulled into an updo, so that it wouldn't be all over the place or unkempt from the breezy conditions.

"you can come interview me whenever you would like," his tone shifts, his voice a little lower than it was moments before, "actually, how come you didn't question me sooner? i would've loved to see your gorgeous face around the paddock."

"like i said," your heart skips a beat, "you're a busy man, fernando."

"not busy enough for a gorgeous woman like you," he flirts, and you were sure your knees buckled at the statement, "what are you doing later?"

your eyes drift over to camren, who luckily had paused the recording, "i'm not too sure, why?"

"because i would love to take you out and buy you a couple of shots. to celebrate, you know."

"you're the one who was on the podium. if anything, i should be the one buying you shots," you fold your arms across your chest.

"oh no," he shakes his head, "no need."

"and why is that?" your brows furrow.

"because beautiful women don't buy their own drinks."

[mariasont]

THE BIMBO RECEPTIONIST WAS SO CUTE

now id like to introduce, goth/metalhead!bimbo!reader x spence ( more of the opposites attract vibe )

super dark clothes and jewelry and looks like elvira a little bit, maybe a few piercings and tattoos for spencer to oogle at

Brooding - S.R

a/n: EEK i hope u love this as much as i loved writing it :)

bimbo reader has my heart <3

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x goth!bimbo!reader

warnings: mmm none! fluff! just two cuties being cute!

wc: 0.6k

Your pen was a flurry of motion, streaking bold lines upon the sketchpad. Technically, you should be sorting through the endless stack of files, keeping them pristine and accessible for the agents. You were always ahead of your tasks, and this job, while not earth-shattering, mattered to you. But when you had a muse as captivating as yours, it was hard to put the pen down. 

That muse being the man rifling through the files before you, his face a masterpiece of pretty lines and angles, unaware of the intensity of your focus. You contemplated expressing your admiration aloud, but the idea seemed a little too forward. So, you poured that impulse into a portrait, tracing the contours of his handsome face.

But it proved difficult to accomplish with his relentless pacing. Each step he took sparked another round of redos on the pad. Your tongue, tipped with a silver piercing, unconsciously found its way to your lip as you wrestled with the proportions of his nose, erasing furiously to get it just right.

You let out a sigh, louder than intended, and it was enough to pause his steps. "Sir, can you please stand still?"

He looked utterly baffled, lifting his brows toward his hairline. As your eyes met, he pointed to his chest, his question simple and unsure, "Huh? Me?"

A quick nod sent a ribbon of dyed hair fluttering before your eyes as you beamed at him. "Yes, you! Please, if you don't mind," you murmured, your fingers racing over the paper. "I just need, like, one more second."

He stood frozen, brows remaining quizzically raised. Why he complied, he couldn't say, but the sight of you, so engrossed in your art, your necklaces chiming in time with your movements, and how your bold makeup seemed to frame your face perfectly kept him rooted to the spot.

You peered up through your lashes, giving him a sheepish grin, cheeks lightly flushed as you set the pen down.

"All done! You're free to go. Thanks for being so patient," you chirped, gently waving the paper in the air as if to dry the ink faster.

"Can I at least see the result of my patience?" Spencer asked, his approach casual yet expectant. 

You hugged the sketchpad to your chest, a gentle laugh escaping you. "Well, I don't usually just let anyone see my work, especially strangers."

Spencer's smile was tinged with amusement.

"Considering I'm the subject, I think I have some claim to it," he joked. "And by the way, I'm Spencer Reid. There, we're practically acquaintances now."

You couldn't contain the goofy grin that spread across your face, and a giggle bubbled up from your throat.

"Well, since you put it that way, I suppose I can make an exception," you said, drawing out the last word with a wink.

The portrait made Spencer do a double-take--it was him, but as if seen through a gothic, moody lens. His usual composure cracked, and a deep, genuine laugh broke through. 

"I never knew I had such a brooding side," he commented with a smile. "I look like I stepped out of a Brontë novel. Perhaps Heathcliff on one of his better days?"

Your head cocked to the side, hair cascading over one shoulder, looking at him through lashes heavy with mascara as you shrugged.

"Heathcliff, huh? I'll take your word for it, but I get the brooding part," you said, with a bubbly laugh. "Come on, it's so you."

Spencer fiddled with his tie, raising a brow.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or concerned," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he felt a pleasant heat rise to his cheeks.

You squinted sightly, pretending to mull it over.

"Flattered, for sure," you said. "Broody types are just secretly plotting world domination, right?"

He grinned. "Well, maybe not world domination, but certainly plotting something."

Your voice was light, but your question was pointed. "So, what are you plotting, Spencer? Should I be worried?"

He tried to remember what Morgan had taught him.

"Absolutely. But some things are worth the wait--patience, you'll see, can be quite rewarding."

And with a promise like that, you found yourself more than willing to wait. 

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[silovsmenot]

Foreign Language | Artūrs Šilovs

SUMMARY: A first meeting with a certain Latvian goalie, a surprise that leaves him thinking of you ... And an unexpected reunion thanks to injury. WARNINGS: So much fluff, poor Latvian language - if you're a Latvian native, please excuse me, I'm still learning. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilov & reader (f!reader implied). NOTES: This was the very first idea that I had, and it's been a brainrot ever since. This could very easily be a multi-part, because the brainrot is real. Okay so little Latvian lesson: 'sveiki' is an informal form of hello and 'piedodiet' is sorry. WORD COUNT: 2147 FIND PART TWO HERE

New job, new city — you were beyond excited to get started with your new life in Vancouver. It was a dream come true, a sports photographer for the Vancouver Sun. You’d be covering everything from soccer to basketball, and your personal favourite, ice hockey. It couldn’t have been better.

It had only been a few weeks and you were still pretty starstruck by the whole situation. The smile had rarely left your lips for everything felt so right. As you drove to the Abbotsford Centre, your music turned to loud as you sang along to your favourite song — life was good. And today promised to be another good day. You were helping to cover a story of the Vancouver prospects in Abbotsford and how they were developing within the AHL affiliate, while your partner would be interviewing players at the rink side and in changing rooms, you’d be snapping the shots of the training session.

It promised to be a lot easier than your usual days, training sessions were a lot more relaxed than game photography. Even with their game against playoff rivals looming, you knew it would be a calmer atmosphere than the alternative.

With the heavy camera bag upon your shoulders, digits scraped back your hair as you walked, tied back as you always did while working. Nodding across to your partner who stood waiting at the large rink doors, he held out a coffee to you, which you gratefully accepted with a quiet ‘thank you’. You two were close, like siblings — natural partners and you always delivered high tier work together.

“The boss wants some focus on the goalies, see what you can do, y/n.” He muttered as you walked, both sipping quietly at the hot liquid. From where you were, you could already hear the shouts of training, the crash of the puck against glass and the slapping of sticks upon the ice. It was a sound you knew and loved.

And as your partner pushed open the door, the bright lights of the rink lit everything up. You both moved quickly with a light tapping of both coffee cups in luck, your partner immediately gravitating to the head coach who lingered beside the boards, while you would weave onto the bench and begin your setup. Lens mounted onto the camera body, fixing your settings to this particular arena until you were happy with your picture. It was simply second nature now.

You stood beside the boards, camera switching from player to player with smooth motions as the camera clicked. Turning to each goalie, your camera would linger with the rhythmic clicking — you didn’t need to know all of the story, but a focus on the goalies was always a popular one. Players being called up to the NHL happened so regularly, it was hardly a story, but goalies? Now that got people ticking.

As the session progressed, you watched your partner question each player who came to the bench for water before they’d even had a chance to breathe. You would simply smile at each person, almost sympathetically, and do your job with the clicking of the camera.

Even as the young goalie skated over, angling toward the bench where you stood with a hand outstretched for a bottle, your lips presented a small smile as you waited for your partner to pounce. But as he was too wrapped up with Tolopilo, this goalie was left in silence … for a moment at least. You knew a little about him, of course. A young guy from Latvia, drafted a few years ago now, with a bit of a rocky start to the season. His eyes met yours as the blue and green mask was raised from his face, lips curled into a smile at the first glance.

You spoke without a second thought. It had been some years now since you ended things with your ex, but you’d spent a few years learning Latvian for them — it had been years since you had any reason to use it. 

“Sveiki…” 

Artūrs blinked. The smile on his lips disappeared as confusion was etched in its place. He’d been in Canada for a while now, with only the occasional passing player conversation to give him that little piece of home. He’d never expected this woman to come out with that.

“Sveiki.” The goalie quietly replied, leaning his weight forward upon the boards beside you. “You’re Latvian?”

You shook your head, a quiet laugh slipping through your lips as the camera lowered, your body turning to almost mirror his as you leaned upon the boards.

“I’m not Latvian, but my ex was. I learned some from when we were together.” 

As you spoke, he watched you closely as the smile returned to his face. A smile that you couldn’t help but find contagious. He nodded slowly, thinking silently to himself before his blocker hand began to shake. The glove removed, his hand wiping upon his jersey before it was offered across to you with a grin.

“I’m Artūrs,” He spoke with a little more confidence, capturing your gaze beneath his dark eyes. They were easy to get lost in as you looked at him. “But this lot mostly call me Arty.” 

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, Arty.” You hummed as your hand came to meet his, a slight look of amusing disgust at the sweaty hand of the goaltender. Needless to say it was enough to make the young goalie laugh.

Releasing his hand with a playful swat, you too would wipe your hand upon your jumper as he laughed. You couldn’t blame him, and you too found it funny, but a sweaty hand was not  what you wanted.

“Piedodiet.” He spoke through the laughter, head cocking as he watched you. Your eyes narrowed playful in response to his apology.

“I’m not sure that I believe that you’re sorry.” You found yourself teasing in response, the camera growing heavy in your hands as it sat idle. If your partner looked over, it would look as though you were helping him with his job — but far from it. You were enjoying yourself, more than you realised at the time.

He gave no response, just the rising and falling of his brows. A cheeky grin at his lips as the hand returned the blocker, the bottle returned to it’s place on the boards.

“Will I see you around here more?” Arty called out as he took a few strides away from where you stood. He hoped, silently, that you’d say yes. That you’d be back to photograph and chat more. For whatever reason, he wasn’t quite sure yet, he wanted to see more of you.

It was your turn to stay silent, shrugging with shoulders and hands. You had no idea if your job would bring you back to the Abbotsford Centre, but you hoped that it would.

And as the training session came to end, your partner returned to you with a notepad full of notes and a voice recorder full to burst, you gave a lingering glance back to the goalie as he took his first steps from the ice, and met your eyes with a smile.

Months passed and you had often thought of the grinning Latvian goalie of the Abbotsford Canucks. Your job hadn’t taken you back to the little suburb of Vancouver, though you’d occasionally catch the games on TV. A little curiosity peaking as you’d remember the conversation with him — sometimes, you’d catch yourself smiling as you thought about it. You’d watch his games when you could and read the news in which he featured.

You couldn’t say that you missed him, you barely knew him, but you wanted to know him … You wanted to be able to miss him.

March rolled around, the end of the regular season was in sight and you’d taken the lead in photography coverage of the Vancouver Canucks for a while now — you’d become a regular at the Rogers Arena, and knew most of the faces of players, staff and partners. You’d even become friends with a number of the wives and girlfriends. You were a familiar face to all.

And you were one of the first on the scene, with your partner in tow, at the announcement of the press conference. Demko’s injury was the worst kept secret in the city, and you’d all been waiting for them to announce it. To know which lucky goalie was getting the call up from Abbotsford.

Journalists and photographers piled into the large room with whispers and nods of acknowledgement. Everyone waiting for Tocchet to make the announcement, and your heart skipped a little beat when he did … for the grinning goalie, Artūrs Šilovs would be taking up the role of back-up in Demko’s absence. 

You wasted no time in getting down to the rink following the announcement, you knew that all the reporters would be clamouring for a word with the captain and the rookie goalie. As the flood of journalists began through the arena, the players were already leaving the ice with only the two goalies remaining with Clarkie. Many left to find the captain and coaches, while a few photographers, yourself included, would snap what shots they could of the two goaltenders.

Your stomach did a spin to see him again, the grin seemingly stuck with glue upon your lips — it had been months, surely he wouldn’t not remember you, you thought. But as his eyes glanced across to the wall of photographers, his gaze did linger upon you. Beneath his mask, he did grin. He’d spent months hoping to see you in Abbotsford, at his training or his game. It was a bitter disappointment when another photographer had been sent down in your place.

And as the nod was given for both goalies to leave the ice, little else mattered to him than making a beeline to you.

“Sveiki.” Arty immediately said as the helmet was raised, drifting on his skates just in front of you. Your smile spread instantly, quietly returning the hello with a hum. “I need to change, but please don’t run off.”

With a curious look etched upon your features, you silently nodded. It was the end of your working day anyway, you needed to sort through the photos of the day, but you could do that while you waited.

So sat upon a chair in the stands, laptop open and photos running through, you edited and submitted your best to your partner who would return to the office to write his piece. Gaze would snap up at the first sound of movement up the steps, it was strange to see him out of his goalie gear and in normal, casual clothing. A pair of jeans, a jumper, and glasses? There was something unexpected about that, but they suited him well. You liked the glasses' look.

“You didn’t come down to Abbotsford again.” He quietly said, the disappointment clear in his voice and on his face. And you felt the sting — but you also felt the twist in your stomach of excitement … he’d wanted to see you again, he’d thought about you.

“They moved me solely to these guys. I’m barely away from this rink now, Arty.” You sighed, hand closing the laptop which rested in your lap. You’d hold it there, fiddling with the corner as you thought. “I watched some of your games from home. I should’ve come down for one or two … to watch.”

“Do you want to go for a coffee, y/n?” Artūrs interjected, impatiently and abruptly. It was almost like he had to get it out before he could stop himself, and he was noticeably nervous as he waited for an answer.

You took a moment, watching him fiddle with the hem of his jumper as he waited — yet his smile never wavered. It was stuck, just as yours was.

“I’d like that.” You finally spoke, returning the laptop to your bag without breaking eye contact. The weight in his chest lifted immediately, a heavy exhale parting his lips as he nodded. You rose with a struggle, the camera bag always seeming to be heavier in that first moment, and Arty was quick to assist. His hand offered out, collecting the strap from your hand as it was slung onto his back with ease.

You walked from the arena together, both grinning wide with occasional glances at the other. A comfortable silence between you, it was simply a nice feeling to walk at each other’s side.

“Es priecājos jūs atkal redzēt.” He finally spoke, breaking the silence with words you didn’t quite know. Your Latvian limited to basic phrases that you learned to speak to your ex’s family during the holidays. 

“What does that mean?” You whispered, leaning a little closer.

“I’m glad to see you again.”

And your heart skipped a little beat.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: it's a new week

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your phone buzzes against your leg, ripping you back to reality. Your eyes widen and drift away from the stream of font. You sit up and mark the page with your finger as you reach for the jittering cell. 

You scramble to grab onto it and hesitate to hit the big green button. The screen doesn't look like usual, not that you get many calls. You tap the button and the image changes at once, Bucky startling you as he appears. 

"Hey, doll," he grins and winks at you, moving the camera to lean against something. "How's it going?" 

"Uhhhh," you drone, surprised. He can see you too. You know by the little reflection of yourself in the corner. "Hi. Fine." You put the book down with no mind to losing the page, "um, you?" 

"You busy, doll?" 

"Reading but... no." 

"Mm," he hums, "glad to see you enjoying your treats but... no pajamas?" 

He steps back and you get a view of him from waist up, the edge of a counter in the lower edge. You pout then give a sheepish smile, "sorry, I haven't... had a chance." 

"That's okay, doll, I just wanted a peek before I went to work," he undoes his shirt button by button and pulls it off, revealing his muscular torso. You gulp at the lines of his muscle along his stomach, "why don't you put them on now and give me a look." 

"Oh, uh..." you glance at the wall. It's late. You're pretty sure Roxie already left for work and your mom will probably be settling down. "Right, uh..." 

"Just want something to think of when I walk the floor," he purrs. 

"Sure, er," you nearly choke, "I'll just-- one sec." 

"I can wait, doll. I've been waiting, haven't I?" He purrs. 

You feel a pang of guilt. You place the phone down so the lens faces the ceiling and climb off the bed. He's given you a lot, too much honestly, and now you feel like you owe him. It isn't fair to take his kindness without anything in return. And he isn't asking much, is he? 

You dig in the bag, the crinkle loud as the only other noise is the subtle movement from his end. You fish out the soft pajamas and peer over, making certain the phone is still flat. You change far away from it, paranoid. 

You look down at yourself in the tank and shorts. Oh gosh. It's a lot less than you usually wear. Your legs are showing, your shoulders, and a bit of your tummy. 

"Doll?" He says and you flinch. 

"I don't know... I don't think it fits." 

"I'm sure it fits just nice," he insists, "show me." 

"Oh, uh..." 

"I'm just looking, doll, I'll only think of what I really wanna do," he snickers. 

You cross back to the bed and pick up the phone, careful to stay out of view. You turn back and prop it up on the dresser, overly aware of the unflattering angle as you do. You give a wide-eyed look and back up so you're all in frame.  

You hug yourself shyly and sway. 

"Let me see ya," he orders. 

You put your arms straight and notice how he leans in to look at the screen, smoothing his hair back. He keeps his hands over his dark strands and growls. A flutter starts in your stomach. 

"What do you mean too small? That fits your perfect," he says. 

"I... really?" 

"Sure, doll," he turns and you realise he's getting ready.  

He combs his hair stands straight. He grabs a new shirt and buttons it as he peeks again. You near the camera and move it so he can only see your face.  

"Damn, doll, I'm gonna be all over the place," he says, "you're so sweet and sexy." 

"Bucky," you squeak.  

"I don't lie. That's the one thing you should know about me. I will always let you know exactly what I want." 

You blush hotly and a tap on the door nearly makes you drop the phone. You hide it behind you and shuffle closer. You clear your throat. 

"Uh, yeah?" You call through. 

"Hey, honey, everything okay in there?" She asks. Shoot, she must have heard you. 

"I'm watching something," your heart hammers, "sorry, I'll turn it down."

"It's alright, honey. Just thought I heard you..."

"No, just a show," you wisp out.

You quickly back away and go as far from the door as you can. You look down at the phone as Bucky tucks in his shirt. Ugh, that was embarrassing. He heard all that; surely he must realise how lame you are. 

"Mom sounds real sweet," he says, "must be where you get it." 

"She's working tomorrow. Don't wanna keep her up," you explain quietly. 

"That's too bad, doll. I'll just have to keep waiting... wanting," he shrugs and pulls on a dark jacket, "what do ya think? Look good?" 

He poses for the camera. He looks great, as always. You feel smaller than ever. 

"Yes," you answer softly. 

"Yes? That's it?" He sounds disappointed. 

"Very handsome," you eke out. 

"Handsome?" He squints as he picks up the phone. 

"Er," you search your repertoire and borrow from his, "sexy?" 

"Are you asking or telling me?" He chuckles. 

You giggle. You don't think you've ever told anyone they are sexy. You've never been that bold. 

"Yes." 

"Yes?" He laughs. 

"You're, er, oh, sexy," you touch your hot cheek and look away. 

"You are adorable, doll," he growls, "that's exactly what I need to hear." He grazes his fingertips over his beard, "unfortunately I gotta get on it so... tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow," you confirm. 

"Don't worry about a thing, doll, just bring your gorgeous self." 

🃏

The next day is restless. It's worse having hours to wait around for... what? You don't know. 

You spend your time reading, or trying to. Breakfast is small, what your roiling stomach can handle, and you put on an outfit that you think is acceptable, not that you have much to choose from. It might be strange if your mom or Roxie notice the lack of uniform. You could say you change at work? 

Ugh, lie after lie. It's all so much.  

You don't get very far in the book and your phone buzzes, a reminder from Bucky that your fate is coming. You grab your purse and sit out on the stoop, the sunlight beaming down. It would be a nice say if you were so damn uptight. 

Merv pulls up in the sleek luxury car and you get up, checking over your shoulder to see if there's any curious tug on the curtain. Your mom's already at work but Roxie is puttering around somewhere. She could be sleeping or not. 

Merv gets out to greet you. He opens the door and you thank him. He sits in the driver's seat and Springsteen drones from the radio. You smile as he shifts into gear. 

"I know this one," you say. 

"Of course, a classic," he praises. "And how are you today, miss?" 

"Good, you, sir?" 

He laughs as he steers, "very good, miss. And how could I not be." He peeks at you in the rear view, "with sunshine in my backseat." 

You smile bashfully and cross your legs. You can't help the shake in your foot. You're more and more nervous with each second and turn of the wheel. 

As if noticing your unease, he turns up the music, "I like this one too." 

You sigh and ease into the drumbeat. The tempo keeps your heartbeat in check. You're thankful for his subtle comfort. 

You turn to watch through the tinted windows. You never noticed how scenic this city is. You never went many places to have the chance. 

He keeps the volume up and you let it carry you through the long journey across the city. He pulls up to the casino and steers around to the hotel entrance. You peer through then back at him in confusion. He turns the knob down. 

"Mr. Barnes says to give your name at the desk," Merv instructs, "have a good day." 

"Thanks, you too," you unbuckle the seat belt and sidle across to the door. 

You get out with reticence. Staring up at the grand facade, you're more unsure than you've ever been. You've come this far, you have to keep going. You really have no choice as Merv slowly rolls away.  

You step forward. It doesn't get easier the further you get. Your pulse hammers behind your ear as you enter the lobby and a flash of deja vu overcomes you. That night with Roxie, the morning after, and everything since. How does it all feel as if it happened so fast and yet so long ago? 

You go to the desk, feeling entirely out of place. What if Merv is wrong and you shouldn't be there? What if they just look at you and laugh? No choice, keep going. 

You stop on the other side of the desk and give a stiff smile. 

"Hello, welcome, checking in?" The modelesque concierge asks. She's stunning and you're all the more self-aware. 

"Uh, I think? My name is..." 

She keeps her pristine smile in place and her eyes lights up. She doesn't even bother typing into her computer. She flits away and returns with one of little folders with the room keys inside. Oh, this is really happening. 

You thank her and slowly back away. You make a slow advance towards the elevator and wait beside a couple with their suitcases. You step on with them, avoiding a glimpse through the transparent walls.  

You unfold the folio and read the number, pushing the floor number, then stand back on your heels. You keep your eyes on the door, the motion alone making you dizzy. 

The couple gets off before you. When it's your floor, you thankfully scramble off and take a deep breath. You once more check the number and follow the hallways to your assigned suite. 

You swipe the card several times, you still don't have the hang of it. The door opens and you enter meekly. You focus on every move. Shut the door, slip the card back in the folder, put it down on the corner table. 

You look up at last and let yourself marvel at the suite as you delve further in. The smell of pollen greets you with a large bouquet of roses. The suite is huge, even bigger than last time. Two rooms just the same and a full kitchenette and spacious bathroom. You don't go onto the balcony, not wanting to test your stomach. 

You go back inside and glance over the table draped in a red tablecloth beneath the crystal vase of flowers. There's also a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries and various colours of macarons. You've never had the delicate cookies before but you'd watch countless recipe videos, wishing on day to try them yourself. 

There's an envelope too. You take it and run your nail along the sealed flap. You open it carefully and slip out the card within. 

'Enjoy yourself, doll. I'll join you shortly. B.' 

As if on cue, there's a knock on the door. Oh gosh, you're not ready. What does he mean? Join you? You hoped for a little long before... before... 

You stand frozen but when the door doesn't open itself, you go to answer it. You slowly twist the long handle and open it just a crack. You peer around the edge and blink in confusion. 

"Hello, dahling," the woman's affectation drags out her syllables, "well look at you, how precious." 

She presses on the door and you let her force her way in. You're dumbfounded. Who the heck is she? Another long-legged beauty you can't compare too. 

"Lovely hair," she remarks as she closes the door without a care, "oh, and your skin, yes, perfect canvas..." 

"Sorry, er, I think you have the wrong room--" 

"Mr. Barnes sent me, dahling," she trills in her way, "and I see you are very much in need of my visit so let's begin. Mm, yes, I have a vision," she struts forward, a rose gold chest in her hand, "not very much, you have a natural lustre I adore." 

You retreat as she advances on you. She lifts her chest onto the chaise and flips back the lid, revealing an assortment of precisely organized palettes and tubes. You're horrified and humiliated as you realise why she's there. Maybe you aren't as pretty as Bucky keeps telling you. 

[blckbarbiedoll]

Is Somebody Gonna Match My Freak? (Wade Wilson x f!black!reader)

CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT (mentions of oral sex, p in v sex, swearing, Wade in general) probably ooc, cheesy nicknames, wrote this in the middle of the night 😭🙏🏾

based on this post by @megantheestallion-ismypresident

word count: 1.2k

Never in a million years did you expect to be dating a mercenary. More specifically, Deadpool himself. And never in a million years did you expect to find a boyfriend that matched your freak (and stamina).

When Wade learned what you did for a living, he didn’t turn away like past lovers. Instead, he embraced your sexual freeness. Encouraged it even.

“That’s fucking awesome.”

“Really? It doesn’t bother you?”

You both laid under the covers in his bed, a thin layer of sweat on your bodies. He passed a freshly lit blunt to you after taking a puff for himself.

“Baby, I literally crack skulls for a living. I’m not in a position to judge anyone’s occupation here.”

“Guys usually run for the hills when I tell them.”

“Girls usually run for the hills when they find out what I do. Not to mention when I take the mask off. And yet, here you are.” He took the blunt from in between your fingers. “So either you really like me, or you’re just as fucked up as I am, peanut.”

“Both?”

“Both sounds about right.” You both chuckled and kissed each other softly, basking in the afterglow of your pleasure.

Although most of the time you would film alone (which you didn’t mind), Wade would join on occasion. And it seemed that whenever he did, your views skyrocketed. Usually, only his fingers or his dick would make an appearance on your channel. Not only was he a mercenary with too many people out looking for him, but he was convinced that his face wouldn’t appeal to your audience.

“Trust me, babe, this ugly mug is the last thing people wanna see when they’re rubbing one out.”

“Really? ‘Cause your face is the first thing that comes to my mind.”

“You and the readers both.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

You and Wade had returned from your weekly date night, which also happened to be one of your filming days. He was about to follow the routine of leaving you to it and going into the living room to wait for you. That was until you called him.

“Wade?”

“Yes, sugar bear?” He stuck his head in the doorway.

“Don’t you wanna join me?” You slowly slipped off the dress that hugged your curves, letting it drop to the floor. The absence of the dress revealed a matching red lace set. “I bought this for you.”

His mouth fell slightly agape at the sight of you. If this was a cartoon, he’d have big heart eyes. “Fuck.” Was all he could say in response.

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a big fuck yes!” He kicked the door shut as he walked closer to you, lifting his t-shirt off in one swift motion.

“Hold on.” You grabbed your camera and tripod, making sure to set it at the right angle. After checking the video and sound quality, you grabbed Wade’s hand and led him over to the bed.

“Camera’s a little high there. Don’t wanna accidentally catch a glimpse of my face. It’ll crack the lens.”

“Would you stop? You are so fucking hot.”

“Well, that makes one person who thinks so.”

“Babe, I’m serious. I wanna record us for real. And not just one part of you. I wanna be able to look back on a video of us. All of us.”

”It’s that important to you?”

“Yes. And if you really don’t like it, I won’t post it. It’ll be just for us.” You looked up at him with your big brown eyes, practically begging him.

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. “You know I can’t say no to you, chocolate drop.”

“I know.”

“Alright, fine. But you better get my good side.”

And that’s how you found yourself in this position (literally and figuratively). Wade had already eaten you out twice with a blowjob in the middle of each of them. But now, he had you on your back, hips in the air as he ruthlessly thrusted into you.

Almost a hour into recording, you both were in a trance. His large hands held your hips up so he could fuck into you easily. Your leg was thrown over his shoulder, allowing him to hit all the right spots. You gripped onto his toned arms for support, feeling the divets in his skin under your fingers. “So good, baby.” You barely breathed out. He was fucking your brain to mush and he knew it.

“Yeah? You like this dick inside you?” He harshly grunted, not taking his eyes off of you for a second. “You like when I fuck you like this for everyone to see?”

Your nails dug into his skin as you threw your head back against the mattress. “Yes.” It was barely even a whisper, but it was all you could say given your current state.

He moved one of his hands up your leg that was rested against his shoulder. He gripped your ankle and pressed soft kisses against it. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. Gonna make me cum just looking at you.”

"Oh my god." You gasped, feeling your orgasm build with each thrust.

He looked between you and the camera before turning your head to look straight at the lens. "Show everyone how good you can take me."

“Wade.” You whined. “Please.”

“Please what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.”

“Make me cum. Please?”

There goes those eyes again. The ones that could make Wade do anything and everything you wanted. How could he deny his pretty baby?

"Is that it?" He reached down to circle your aching clit with his thumb. "You wanna cum on my dick?"

"Fuck!" You gasped at the feeling. "Yes!"

He lifted your other leg onto his shoulder and bent down to kiss you. He had you folded like a fucking pretzel and you were loving every second of it.

"Holy shit, baby." He groaned. "I'm fucking close."

"Inside me."

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Please? I wanna feel you fill me up."

"Motherfucker." His grip on your hips was getting tighter, and his thrusts got sloppy. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Mhm."

"I know. I can feel you fucking squeezing me."

"Oh, god." You felt your pleasure building in your lower stomach. Wade continued his movements until you finally finished. "Fuck, Wade!"

"That't it, baby. Cum all around my dick."

His breath hitched in his throat as you felt his hot release fill you up. He waited a few moments before gently sliding out of you and falling down onto the mattress.

"Fuck." You sighed. "That was..."

"Really fucking good."

"Yeah. Really fucking good." You leaned over to grab the camera, pausing the recording. "Ready to see?"

"I guess."

He sat up as you played the video. His face went from a grimace to complete awe. Once he saw the both of you and how your bodies moved together, he was done for.

"So?"

"Can you send that to me?"

You laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Of course."

"You should peg me."

"I have pegged you."

"On camera."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah."

"The viewers would love that."

"So would the readers."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't worry about it. Go get the strap."

[dollfacefantasy]

gojo filming you while you give him head ♡

satoru gojo x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, blowjobs, cum, praise, being filmed

“That’s it, baby. That’s my good girl. Just like that, my little movie star,” Satoru’s voice croons from behind his phone.

You look up at your boyfriend from beneath your lashes, eyes watering as you bob your head up and down the length of his cock. The flash is on, making it hard to see his face, but you can tell from the lilt in his voice that he’s wearing his usual smug look.

His free hand pets your head as you go. The motion soothes you as you take him as deep as physically possible, making yourself gag slightly around the shaft. He chuckles at the noise and the excess saliva that seeps from your lips.

“So perfect, babydoll. No one else knows how to take it like you do. Isn’t that right?” he prompts you.

Playing along, your eyes return to the shining light, and you nod with his dick still lodged in your throat. You then pull up quickly for air, taking a deep breath as the head rests against your lips. Some precum smears against the plush skin, and Satoru’s hand sweeps down to your chin. He guides your face to look up a bit more while his thumb swipes the sticky white substance from your lips and sticks it in your mouth. It’s sudden, but you suck obediently like the good girl that you are.

“Aw, that’s right. Nothing makes you happier than when you have something in your mouth, hm? My cock or my thumb, it doesn’t even matter to you,” he teases before pulling his digit from your lips.

You nod again before returning your attention to the task at hand. You press sloppy kisses to the leaky tip of his cock before sucking it back into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around the flushed head and drags against the veins as you go lower again. What Satoru’s cock lacked in thickness, it more than made up for in length. Your hand strokes what you don’t take in your mouth. You weren’t going as deep as before, not wanting to gag again, but your hand maintains a firm grip and strokes him just how you know he likes.

You know you’re doing it right too because you spot the silhouette of your boyfriend’s head tilting back against his chair and hear a deep sigh come from his lungs. The hand that was petting you comes to a stop and just rests on the crown of your head. You continue sucking, wet noises emanating from your mouth as your spit drips down to his balls.

“Fuck, baby…” he mumbles before groaning. His hips buck the tiniest bit off the seat.

You increase your efforts, wanting to get him there. You can feel him throbbing beneath your fingers and against your tongue. It’s almost as if you can sense the dam getting ready to burst. He lets out a few breathy whimpers as his heels dig into the carpet next to your knees.

“Right there, pretty girl. Don’t stop,” he says, his tone slightly strained.

Moments later, his eyes squeeze shut and his hips buck for real. A loud groan pours from his mouth just as his cum spills into yours. You keep your lips around him, taking it all as it comes. You take him nice and deep once more until he hisses from the overstimulation and pulls you off.

Still hazy from his release, he leans forward, getting the camera right in your face. His fingers slide to either side of your face, squishing your cheeks and puffing your lips out.

“Open,” he says simply.

You again obey. Your lips part, revealing your tongue that was coated with his cum. Your doe eyes look up at the camera. Now that he was close enough, you can actually see Satoru’s self-satisfied grin.

“All mine,” he states. 

He makes sure the camera catches all the angles he wants of you before he lets you go and pats your cheek, a signal to close your mouth. You do and continue looking up at him, waiting for the command you know will come next.

“Swallow.”

And you do, all while your eyes stay on the camera lens.

“You have fun, baby?” he asks you.

“Mhm. Thank you, Satoru,” you say sweetly.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckles before clicking the recording off.

The flash turns off in an instant, and you crawl up into his lap. His long arms wrap around you and pull you against the expanse of his chest. He lays kisses on your hairline while speaking gently to you.

“Always so good for me. Think you just gave me my new favorite movie.”

You smile up at him and nuzzle your nose against your cheek. The pure affection doesn’t last long though as your lips trail down to his neck and begin kissing the side of his throat. He was satisfied, but you were still dripping between your thighs, aching for his touch.

Amused by your desire, he nudges you to look up at him. “Think I need a replay. Then I’ll be ready for another round,” he tells you as his thumb hits play on the screen and those lewd, slurping noises start up again.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

That You Are

09/16/2024

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Word Count: 1,057

Warnings: rpf, yearning

Summary: He is far away even though he longs to be anywhere that you are.

A/N: Seriously, I have no idea if this is any good or even worth sharing with you, but here we go anyway. Heavily inspired by song and video, as you can probably tell…

Picture: screenshot from this video by Queen Ruth

If you enjoy my story, liking is great, but leaving a comment or reblogging is the stuff that keeps me going. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

It’s getting late. Late enough for the day to come to an end. For the sun to  vanish in the distance, where the barren land melts into the horizon. Pastel hues of pink, orange and blue have replaced the bright azure in the sky. And for the first time I can breathe again. The mild air fills my lungs, my whole body winding down with a sigh of relief. Because with the sun, the heat has left the air. The suffocating, scorching heat that has tortured me all day. That has stretched the hours and minutes and seconds until it almost made me believe this day would never end. 

But it did. And you of all people know what this means to me. What it means to us. One day less of being apart. One day less of longing to be close to you. Of sitting here on my own, in front of me a view so stunning it makes my heart ache. And it aches even more for not being able to share this moment with you. I’ve taken a picture to send to you later. But as so often, the colours are a bit off, the angle not quite right. Or maybe it is simply the fact that there is something about this world that no lens will ever be able to capture. 

Are you still fast asleep, my darling? I hope you are. The day is still young for you, the sun not yet ready to brighten your side of the world. I’ll send it to you, and with it all my love. As I always do, so that every ray of sunlight may remind you of it, may warm you like the hugs you so dearly miss. I promise you’ll get them all. I’ll even throw in a few more to make up for the long wait.

How I wish I could hold you in my arms right now. Instead I am dreaming of you, eyes wide open, seemingly transfixed by the spectacle in front of me when all I really see is you. It’s almost as if you were here with me. 

Somewhere behind me I can hear the soft tapping of your bare feet on the floor. It has to be you. I recognise the rhythm of your stride blindly. It’s engraved into my memory like all the other little things about you. Your unique scent, the melody of your voice, the feeling of your skin against mine, the even beat of your heart, the cadence of your breath. For a second I can feel it crawl along my neck before the touch of your lips drowns out every other sensation. They are warm and smooth as they delicately press against my pulse. And they are gone as soon as they have appeared. But the smile they brought to mine lingers. 

I watch as your entire form comes into view. You look comfortable in those wide clothes. You don’t have to say it, I know you are just as relieved that the sun is gone as I am. No more sweating, no more sticky skin, the thin sheen of moisture covering your body and the gentle breeze in your wet hair heavenly refreshing. 

Your smile carries it all. And I am glad my hands know on their own what to do, how to hold the instrument, how to pick the chords. Because everything I see in this moment is the curve of your lips, and everything I am becomes you for this fleeting fragment of time.

I love you. All of me loves you. I want to tell you, but the words never form, sealed inside my chest as your hand finds me. Wordlessly it asks me to make room for you, and I do. And as soon as my legs fall open, you sink down between them. One arm claiming my thigh, your head soon follows. It might not be the most comfortable of pillows to rest on, but you don’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s the view that makes up for it, the tiny rest of the sun that is still visible, like the last gleaming ember of a bonfire. 

Gently your lips press against the light blue denim that covers my thigh, and as much as I wish they would press against my lips instead, your sweet gesture of affection makes my heart want to leap out of its cage and into your loving hands. It would be safe with you. That is a truth indelible. Probably the only one. 

It’s only now that I realise I have started to whistle. Of course it is this song. What other song would it be? 

“Will you sing for me?” you ask, your voice barely louder than a whisper. Are you afraid I will deny you your wish? Or are you still worried about my voice even though I am feeling much better these days? Don’t be. I’m good. And you are with me. What else could I ask for?

Softly I begin the first verse as your fingers are drawing patterns on my knee in perfect harmony. You pull yourself closer to me, the movement setting a few strands of your hair in motion. They roll across the lower layers like waves to the shore, the last bit of sunlight bringing out the warmest tones in them. My fingers are itching to touch you, but that would mean to stop playing. You would turn immediately and the displeasure on your face would be much worse than to deny myself the silky touch of your hair as it runs through my fingers. 

There will be time enough for that later. When I will hold you in my arms, the world around us falling silent until it will be hard to imagine that it consists of more than just you and me. It doesn’t matter anyway that we are just two insignificant parts of a huge integral whole when there is a whole world inside of us that is entirely ours. Yours and mine.

A world in which you are actually here with me on this balcony. In which I am dreaming next to you, pulling you closer against my chest, not even sleep numbing my longing for you. A world in which I will always be anywhere that you are. 

*** taglist:

@rosecentury

@lowkeysimpinloki

@fightmespideyboy

[dathen]

My favorite thing about rereading this bit of Dracula is that there is SO MUCH vivid character detail you can miss the first time around by seeing Jonathan as just a lens for the English Viewpoint (tm) or a mouthpiece for Stoker’s infodumping. While those elements are there, by viewing him as a character in his own right so many details spring to life!

“I went to the library to read every book I could find about the country my work trip is taking me to”— This got skimmed over my first reading as an excuse for Stoker’s scene-painting infodump, but from this angle you have this freshly minted little lawyer SO dedicated to doing his job well and so eager about it that he’s up to his ears in books and maps before he even gets on the train. And this is AFTER STUDYING FOR LAW EXAMS!! This is a studious little nerd and a perfect match for Mina!!

Unfortunately since all his sources are from the British Museum they’re going to be like that, but he’s so eager to learn—and you can see that singleminded dedication that characterizes him showing already.

It also firmly sets why “just turn around!” is something that can’t make any sense in the story’s logic. Not only does his livelihood hinge on this trip, but he’s been studying to prepare himself for any number of cultural differences. If an Englishman turned tail at everything they thought was a “red flag,” they’d never leave the country. He’s still ignorant and naive and ethnocentric, but if you compare him to contemporary British Lit characters he’s comparatively determined to not be close-minded (a theme that will show up again with Van Helsing).

[imissnanami]

desperate 4 u | pathetic!choso x f!reader

Choso masturbates to a polaroid of u using a pocketpuss 

🌸Content | MDNI, male masturbation, masturbating to photos, sex toys/pocket pussy, swearing, pet name baby/baby girl, multiple orgasm & overstim, not proofread oops

Choso couldn’t help but feel giddy as he prepared his bed for his jerk of session. He usually found himself half way to cumming before the thought popped into his head, crashing on whatever surface was the closest. Trembling hands pull dirty clothes and blankets off his bed, in his excitement he misses his sock twice before flinging it behind himself. 

As he moved the pillows to the head of the bed, he could feel just how hard he was in his pants. The loose fabric of his shorts did nothing to provide pressure on his sensitive cock. What it did do, however, was drag teasing featherlight touches across his bulbous head. If he focused hard on his sense of touch as his length bobbed, he could feel the cool edges of the wet material, his precum having left an ever-expanding patch. 

His brows furrowed as he whined, getting impatient, eyes searching for anything he missed before he sits down. Having already shed his shirt the moment he entered the room, Choso went for the elastic band of his shorts. Lifting his hips, he pulled the band upwards and over with both thumbs. His thick dick waved in the air, too hard to lie flat on his stomach. 

“Fuck, I’m so horny,” Choso whispered to himself, throwing his shorts to the floor. Knowing if he touched himself now, it would all be pointless, Choso took a few deep breaths before leaning over to his bedside table. Opening the bottom drawer, he grabbed the stack of polaroids and a roll of tape. Dropping the roll on his chest he shuffled through them. 

Dozens of polaroids all had the same subject, Y/N. Some, of her fully clothed, but most from a beach trip they took two months ago. A tiny purple bikini was all she wore. Breasts nearly spilling out of the too small cups, and ties of the bikini bottoms digging into full hips. There were so many provocative poses from her and Shoko’s ‘model shoot’. Flipping to the second last one, his breath hitched and his cock twitched. A large bead of precum slipped out of his slit, globbing down his length and pooling at the base. 

Shoko had insisted Choso should get a better angle, to make her look taller, so Choso was sat on the sand. While it made Shoko look taller, what he didn't expect was for this new angle to give him a perfect shot of your ass. More precisely the bottom of your ass and in between your legs. What’s worse, was that you decided to turn around. Your plush thighs stood open, leaving enough room for the lens to get a good glimpse of your covered pussy. 

Having just come out of the water a few minutes ago, the thin bathing suit fabric clung to your lips, accentuating every swell and dip. The fabric was darker than the rest of the bottoms, having taken longer to dry, but Choso likes to think it was for another reason. Precisely? Him. Looking up, your cute tummy looked so soft. And further up, the tiny triangles barely covered your nipples, obvious by the fact they poked into the very edge of the fabric, making them so easy to locate. But what made the picture Choso’s favourite, was the fact he caught you looking right at him. Your eyes slightly off centre, looking past the lens to where Choso was, behind it. 

Yep, this one. 

Carefully pulling placing his precious polaroids back into the drawer, he rips off a piece of tape and turns around on the bed. Making sure the strip of tape didn’t cover any of the image, Choso taped it at the centre of his headboard. Flopping back on his back, he could feel his heart beating faster, knowing he'd finally be able to start soon. 

Reaching back in the drawer, he felt around for his favourite toy. It was a simple, clear pocket pussy. Bringing it up, he put it beside him. 

Closing his eyes, Choso placed his hands on his chest. Feeling his hard nipples on his palms, he begins circling the left while pinching his right nipple. Biting his lip he muffles a sweet whine that tired to escape. Licking his lips he drags his hand down his front, pressing into his abs and tracing the centre line. 

Cracking his eyes open he watches as he reaches his pubes. He gives the dark hair a gentle tug, moaning low in his chest as his cock bobs in the air. The red tip glistening, veins more prominent from the neglect. Choso licks his lips again, biting his bottom lip. Tracing his finger in the pool of precum, he closes his hand, spreading it along his palm. Taking a deep breath and looking through half lidded eyes, his wet hand hovers around his base before closing. 

Choso feels like he could cum right then and there. His brows pinch together as he moans into the room, breath catching in his chest. Creating a tight fist, he drags it up and down his length. Once. Twice. A third time. But the fourth his eyes have slipped shut again and he sighs at each tug. The slick sound of his hand on his dick makes him whine out your name before babbling;

“need you...hnggg please, fuck...need your pussy on meee,”

A clumsy hand pats around the bed beside him, trying to find the sex toy. Once his sticky fingers find it, he’s bringing it up to his mouth, moaning. Pressing the silicon toy to his lips he groans out;

“fuck Y/N, please sit on my face,” 

Leaning up against the toy, Choso makes out with the lips. His tongue licking into the tight hole, pushing his face deeper into it, bending his nose in the process. His laboured breathing speeds up as he continues to masturbate himself. Fuck, does he wish you were sat on his face right now. Choso wonders what your pretty moans would sound like. Would you sigh your pleasure or were you more of a whiner. Shit. Would you whine his name? Screwing his eyes tighter, Choso could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks. Biting back a sob of pleasure he realizes that he’s much closer than he’d like to be. 

Ripping the pocket pussy from his mouth, he gives himself one more stroke before flipping himself on all fours. His hazy eyes focus on the polaroid taped to his headboard. Biting his lip he strokes the side of your face in the picture.

“hold on just a sec baby. Gotta line myself up here” 

Tugging a pillow down he folds it and wedges the toy in between the pillow and the mattress. Hissing as he uses one hand to guide his length to the opening of the toy, the other arm supports his weight. Glancing back up at the photo of you be begins speaking again. 

“all ready baby,” Choso smears the his tip along the silicon lips, groaning. The texture of the toy rub against the sensitive nerves of his cockhead. Choso adds more pressure and moans as he grinds the bottom of his tip on the fake clit. 

“please baby, please tell me you want this” Choso lip wobbles as he tries to focus on your cute face. His eyes sliding down to your pussy and how much detail your wet bathing suit captured. Biting his lips he talks to you again, his hips gently thrusting;

“please, you do, don't you? You want my thick- fuhnggck, my thick cock in your pussy? Of course you do. Fuck baby girl. Imma put it in...ok?” Without warning Choso’s tip slips into the toy, past the first tight ring. 

Choso tightly shuts his eyes as he bites down hard on his lip, tasting blood. Fuck, he couldn't cum so early, what would he do when he really had you in his bed? He deliriously thought. Holding his breath he began to push in, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. He couldn't help but focus on how each ridge of the toy gripped and squeezed his length. The tightness was driving him insane as he pulled his hips back, pulling himself from the toy. 

All at once Choso felt his eyes tear up as a sob escaped him. The suction from the toy created a vacuum that just felt too good on his sensitive head. Trying, and failing, to maintain eye contact with your picture, Choso closed his eyes and conjured up a prefect mental image of you. Wrapping his arms around the pillows, his hips began to thrust in earnest now. Heavy and quick ruts shook the bed as he struggled to talk through sobs of pleasure. 

“’m so sorry baby..can’t slow down...feels too good...’m sorry fuck, so tight”

His whines continued to fill the room as he shoved his face into the pillows. Wanting nothing more than to suck on your perky nipples. Choso whimpered and found the corner of his pillow. Moaning as his tongue flicked along the seam, soaking it. As he thrust into the pillow, it began to shift. With a particularly aggressive jerk the toy slipped to a new angle. Choso’s eyes rolled back in his skull as his hips wildly thrust into the toy, rhythm lost. The feeling of cold air hitting his wet balls, mixed with the suction on his swollen tip and your face painted in his mind had Choso cumming harder than he ever has before. The feeling starting in his stomach spread as his muscles tensed painfully, teeth grinding on the pillow in his mouth, face crumpling in pleasure as tears ran down his face. Choso’s entire body convulsed as rope after rope of hot sticky cum painted the clear toy white. Panting like an animal he finally stilled after the longest orgasm of his life. 

After the afterglow had passed, Choso begins by slowly unclenching his hands from the pillows, stiff joints protesting. A loud sob rips itself from his throat as his hips move, shifting his still hard length in the toy. Whimpering he carefully lifts himself on shaky arms, reaching down to try and pull himself out. Gentle tugs and attempts to get the toy off did not go to plan. The overstimulation making Choso cry and pant quick breaths. The sensation was overwhelming as he tries again, this time pulling harder. It hurt, but felt so good too. 

“Fuck” He whimpers, but for some reason his hand goes to tug the toy on his length again. The voice in the back of his head telling him to keep going, to continue. His hips weakly squirm, not knowing if he wanted to chase or run away from the extreme feeling. Moaning he feels that familiar sensation in his stomach. He was gonna cum again. With the one brain cell he has left, he takes his chance and braces himself. Teetering on the edge, he holds his base with one hand and the toy in the other. His mouth opens in a silent cry he pulls the toy clean off. Thinner ropes of cum spurt from his tip as he curls in on himself. Body tensing before un-tensing and relaxing, cock finally softening. Collapsing back into his bed, his head feels fuzzy as his ears ring slightly. Once his breathing returns to normal, he can’t help but chuckle and hum in satisfaction, stretching. 

Yes he still needs to clean up, but, he’s also already planning next time. 

I do not authorize any plagiarism, copying, reproducing, etc. of my work. Thank you for respecting this.

[veritasangel]

Picture This

ft. Gojo Satoru

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw content {mdni}

↣ fingering, oral (receiving), provocative photos, brief mention of recording. non curse au

wc: 969

Photographer! Gojo is such a flirt, he can’t help it. He's a bit of an arrogant sleaze but you can't help but love him, ego and all.

And when you, his sweet and beloved friend ask him for some photos, of course he agrees.

“So what are we doing? Headshots for your new job or something?” He asks casually.

“Um, actually I was thinking of a boudoir shoot.”

His surprise is evident by the sputtering of his drink, almost choking on his coffee. His head lifts as he looks at you in disbelief. “Sorry- What did you just say?”

“...Boudoir shoot.”

“Okay- So I’m not imagining those words coming out of your mouth then, yeah?” He quips, clearing his throat as he raises his eyebrows slightly, “...Who are they for?”

“That’s not important.”

“Right.” He places the coffee mug down on his kitchen counter, “Out of photographer mode then. Friend to friend, who are these for?”

“Just myself.” You mumble, silently regretting asking him now.

“For yourself? Since when did you want photos like that?” He asks, incredulously.

“I don’t know, I just thought it might be a confidence boost.”

He pretends to consider your request but he already knows he’s gonna agree, especially when he can feel himself harden at just the thought.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Pushing his crude thoughts aside, he truly is a great photographer and takes his craft seriously.

You change into a few risqué pieces and he makes sure everything is perfect from lighting and angles to placements and positioning. He takes quite a few photos, showing you some every now and then and sharing his genuine thoughts.

But he could only stay professional for so long, especially when he’d pictured you like this more times than he's proud of, with only his hand to satiate him.

“Maybe you could pull your strap down a little.” He bites his lip in concentration, “Like this-” he leans in to gently tug your bra strap down so it’s off your shoulder.

He changes your position until he’s pleased with it and turns his focus back to the camera, looking at you through the lens, “You’ll have to let me keep some of these for my personal collection…You know, just so I can admire my work.” He teases and you roll your eyes at his unashamed forwardness.

“Stop being a perv.” You laugh as the two of you continue the shoot and as time goes on, the pictures become more and more provocative. He swears it’s all appropriate, whatever makes the photos shine, he claims.

And it's definitely still professional when he tugs your panties to the side, index finger slipping through your folds ever so slightly. His free hand still adjusting the camera that’s on the bed.

“I’m giving you a free photoshoot here, might as well get as much out of it as you can. I’m not a cheap hire.” He teases as you hear the shutter of the camera, the vulnerability causing a light shiver to cross your skin. You know damn well he’s lying through his teeth, but you can’t bring yourself to complain when he leans closer, stubble tickling your skin as he begins to suck on your clit.

“Toru- I, fuck-”

He grins, as he licks along your slit, two fingers pushing inside you as he goes down on you. It’s messy, sloppy, like he’s been craving the taste of you for years and you’d laugh at the desperation if his tongue and fingers weren’t causing your brain to almost short circuit.

He pulls back momentarily as he tugs at your panties, waiting for you to lift your hips so he can pull them off you completely. Tossing them to the side before his hand resumes its position, with him hovering above you to pull you in for a kiss.

“Bein’ nice enough to give you a free shoot, it’s only fair that I get something out of it, no?” he drawls as he bites your lip hard enough to draw blood, causing you to moan softly, a sound that he swallows as he kisses you, tongue meeting yours.

Much to your despair, he pulls back, trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck as he continues, “You know, I’ve always found that photos can be misleading." he nibbles on your neck, before his tongue smooths it over, Sometimes it takes a video to truly capture the raw emotion.”

You tilt your head back, allowing him more access, “In your dreams.” you manage to whisper breathlessly.

He smirks, fingers pumping faster inside you and revelling in the noises it causes you to make. “It was worth a shot, no pun intended.” he jokes.

The camera, forgotten for the moment, lay discarded on the bed as Satoru focused on pleasing you, his cherished muse, feeling the warm slick of your arousal coating his fingers as your hips bucked up into his hand, wanting to be as close to him as possible. 

His thumb dexterously circled your clit, finding that sweet spot that sent jolts of pleasure through your body. His other fingers remained deep inside you, curling right against your g-spot as he quickened his movements.

You felt the familiar tightening in your core, your body convulsing as you reached your climax, the pleasure radiating out from your core as you cried out his name.

Satoru continued to pleasure you until the shudders subsided. He leaned in to gently kiss your forehead as he pulled his fingers out of your core, pressing them to your lips as he waited for you to open. A low groan escaping him as you took his fingers into your mouth, your eyes remaining on his. 

He chuckled at the shakiness of your legs as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, gently caressing your thigh with them, “I suppose my photographic memory will have to suffice.”

↣ this was supposed to be a proper piece but I got lazy...

↣ this was also originally written for jean kirstein so if it's ooc... :/

༄ jjk m.list

[dragonheartstring360]

Some notes for anyone writing a character with glasses, from someone who wears glasses everyday:

- glasses need to come off before changing a shirt, unless it has a really big collar. Otherwise, glasses will get ripped off by said shirt collar.

- weather will affect how well you can see out of them, especially rain. Raindrops will dot glasses and it’s like trying to drive a car in the rain without working windshield wipers. Snow sometimes does this too, but not as bad, and lots of dust kicking up will make glasses dirty and foggy. If it’s humid enough (talking like swampy, Deep South levels, weather app says “90-100% humidity”), glasses will fog up when you step outside. If it’s crazy windy, glasses can fly off and the character should hold onto them or take them off and put them somewhere safe. They’ll usually get dirty or break in a pants pocket, so maybe have character carry around a sturdy glasses case if needed.

- not all materials are good for wiping glasses off. Some shirt materials just make it worse.

- if your character’s glasses are super dirty or smudged, they will be able to see it 24/7 as they look around and it’s annoying af.

- although glasses can keep things from getting in a character’s eyes (like something that’s been sprayed), it doesn’t protect our eyes all the time, especially if it’s coming at an angle or there’s a large amount. For that, you’d need actual safety glasses or goggles (and yes, they do make prescription goggles, but they’re not cheap).

- speaking of waves, for the love of god, DO NOT have your character swim with their glasses on. At best, they’ll get wet and they won’t be able to see. At worst, if they’re forced underwater or an ocean wave smacks them in the face, they’ll fly off and/or break.

- a crack in glasses is actually annoying af and makes it very hard to see.

- if a character’s face is wet, like from sweat or a ton of rain, their glasses will continuously slide down their nose and they’ll need to keep pushing them back up.

- lots of liquids other than water will make glasses opaque.

- glasses should be fitted pretty well to a person’s head. So if the character’s face is dry or there’s a moderate amount of wind, the “legs” that go behind their ears should be tight enough that they don’t just constantly fly off or slip down their nose. If they do, they’re too big (but obviously something a tornado will make them fly off).

- although I hate the whole “they took off their glasses and now they’re a ✨ model ✨” trope, people do tend to look very different with glasses on vs off - especially a character like Harry Potter who constantly wears their glasses. It’s not unrealistic that people who don’t know the character well (or even those who do, but just aren’t as quick) won’t recognize them at first without their glasses.

- as far as I know (correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve never been able to do this), if a lens pops out of the frames, it can’t be popped back in by non-professionals without the right tools. The glasses are just done for.

- if your character has contacts in (or this is a psa for anyone who wears contacts), DO NOT have them rub their eyes. The contact will pop out and they’re very translucent and tiny, so trust me, it will just fall and be lost forever.

- being able to see clearly out of one eye and not the other (like with a broken/missing lens or a contact falling out) causes headaches.

- glasses are expensive af in the US (idk about other places). One time when I didn’t have vision insurance, an eye exam and two frames with lenses (I have blue eyes and very extreme light sensitivity, so have to have prescription sun glasses as well as regular glasses) cost over $900USD. If you want the special frames that become tinted and basically turn into sunglasses when you walk outside, it will cost extra.

- speaking of those lenses that become tinted when you walk outside, they take awhile to fade back to normal after you go back inside. Your character needs to be prepared to still be “wearing” sunglasses for the first 5-10 minutes after they walk inside.

- if a character is wearing contacts, they can wear normal sunglasses. If not, they’ll need special prescription sunglasses to be able to see. You cannot wear prescription sunglasses with contacts in or you won’t be able to see anything. Ever tried to look through your friend’s glasses and everything’s weird and warped and giving you a headache? That’s what it will look like.

- not exactly glasses related, but people with lighter colored eyes will always have worse light sensitivity than people with darker eyes. I have very blue eyes and looking up at the sky on a sunny day will literally make me see stars, and especially if I’m driving towards the sun while it’s setting, I have to have my sunglasses on or I literally will not be able to see and tears will be leaking out my eyes the whole way home.

- speaking of prescription sunglasses, unless your character can see pretty far without their glasses or they’re far sighted, you cannot just take prescription sunglasses off and still be able to see, especially while driving. You just have to deal with it and keep the sunglasses on and look like a Matrix wannabe if it gets cloudy or starts raining, or you have to do the super speedy Dance of Death where you’re still watching the road in front of you, taking off one pair of glasses and putting the other on super fast (which usually requires you to use your mouth to open and close things).

- GLASSES ARE FRAGILE. Seriously, a very petite person could sit in them and snap them in half. They’re not something you want your character just throwing around.

- there are varying levels of how well someone can see. There’s farsightedness and nearsightedness. Some people don’t have that much trouble and can see pretty far, so only wear their glasses as needed. But some people (aka moi) can genuinely only see a few inches in front of their face. Like if I ever lost my glasses or they broke, I’d be done for. I wouldn’t be able to work or drive or do anything around the house.

- glasses need to be replaced about once a year because of possible prescription changes or sometimes lenses losing their strength and becoming harder to see through. Trying to tough it out after long enough will give your character headaches/migraines and sore eyes from eye strain.

- some mascaras (especially thick ones) will smudge glasses when the character blinks. Same with false lashes (although they’ll brush instead of smudge). Usually less intense mascaras and shorter fake lash lengths are better.

- eye makeup is harder to see with glasses on.

- please, please, PLEASE stop using the whole “omg look how much prettier/more attractive they are without their glasses” trope. Not everyone’s eyes can handle contacts and some people prefer wearing their glasses. And it makes those of us who prefer glasses or have to wear them feel like shit, especially because there aren’t a lot of characters with glasses in media who don’t become the butt of a joke (ie the one wearing glasses is the “ugly duckling” for it like in princess diaries, or like Velma from scooby doo always losing them and patting around, or people who wear glasses will always be some sort of dorky/insufferable know it all).

- glasses come in all shapes, sizes, and colors and can be used to actually enhance a character’s style! Some of them even have magnetic frames that click in place over the simple pair, so have fun using glasses to build your character’s style.

- edit to add: no one ever purposely falls asleep with their glasses on. You will crush and break them when you roll around. However, if a character does accidentally fall asleep with them on, a love interest gently taking them off so they don’t wake them up and setting them on the table next to them can be a super cute moment.

- whoops thought of some more. Hair products, especially hairspray, can be a bitch to get off glasses and doesn’t always just rinse off with water. If they’re spraying anything, including dry shampoo, the glasses have gotta come off and get out of the line of fire first.

- hair can and will get caught in the little hinge by the legs and we do occasionally not notice till we take our glasses off and rip a hair out of our heads.

- be careful when you comb or brush, cuz if the glasses legs get caught in the brush or comb, it will be ripped off our face.

Hope this helps! May the writing gods bless your work 🤓

[aurorawhisperz]

little romance documentary

contains: swearing, fluff, use of y/n and a whole lot of dumb things.

tom!peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: the long-awaited rory comeback! and i’m in my spiderman phase so..the ethan landry stuff will have to wait.

summary: (based off the video diary scene in homecoming) a compilation of all things you’ve done with peter :3

“What are you doing?” You poke at the camera, causing it to shake a little bit. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to show that to the rest of the world.”

Peter shakes his head, “What? No, it’s a little behind-the-scenes thing. Video diary, documentary..” He tries to find the right word.

This is probably why you thought your father hiring someone your age was a bad idea.

“Right, who are you gonna show it to?” And all you can do is stare into the camera while he keeps on recording whatever’s happening in the fancy car.

“Oh, it’s just for me. For memories!” Peter moves the camera away from your view and makes it look like he’s in the spotlight instead.

You’re quite overwhelmed, so you give him a smile in return. “You can do a little introduction.. if you want.” He says with a grin as he makes the camera face you.

“Okay,” You clear your throat, fixing the way you looked. “I’m Y/N Stark, we are going to Germany, currently being driven by my trusty servant, Happy Hogan!”

Happy quickly interrupts the process, “And I’m not too happy with how you have the nerve to call me your trusty servant.” You roll your eyes at his words. “Whatever.”

“And I’m here with uh..Spiderboy!” You continue after a short while, Peter laughs, turning the camera back to himself before correcting the name, “It’s Spiderman, actually..”

The car speeds along the road, and everything felt okay. You were staring into the sun, enjoying and relaxing, Peter was recording you as you were doing so. Admiring how he was able to work with a really cool person..and his daughter.

Reporters and even influencers were calling you a privileged pretty girl, but he didn’t believe those people at all.

You look back at Peter, who’s quick to move the camera in Happy’s direction. You knew what he was doing and all you hoped for was that he didn’t capture a bad angle.

“Okay, okay, let's do this properly,” you say, taking the camera from Peter. “I'm Y/N Stark, the brains and beauty behind this operation. And this,” you turn the camera to Peter, “is Spiderman, our main character and friendly neighborhood hero in Queens.”

Peter gives a mock salute to the camera. “I’m here to save the day or, at the very least, make some pretty cool memories.”

Happy shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he focuses on the road ahead. “Just don't get yourselves into too much trouble, kids.”

“Trouble? Us? Neverrrr~” you say with a smirk.

This was also the start of a great friendship.

-

The camera flicks on and Peter’s face fills the screen as he grins mischievously. “Alright, we’re going to pull the ultimate prank on Happy. Wish us luck.” He whispers into the lens.

You appear next to him, just as excited, holding a box. “We’ve been planning this for a while. This is going to be EPIC.” You whisper.

The two of you sneak through the hallway of the lavish suite, making sure you aren’t attracting any attention. Happy was inside his room, absorbed by a movie, completely unaware of what’s happening as usual.

“Ready?” you ask Peter, who nods to the camera.

You press a button on a small remote, activating the surprise. Suddenly, the speakers hidden around the room begin to play the song “WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?”

Happy’s movie is long gone when it’s replaced by a compilation of embarrassing moments such as Happy looking into the fridge at three in the morning, him slipping on the floor, Happy trying (and utterly failing) to dance and getting scared by jumpscares.

He looks up, startled at first. “What the hell..?”

And that was your cue.

You and Peter burst into the room, laughing hysterically. “GOTCHA!” You shout, holding up the camera to capture his reaction. Happy was trying to suppress such levels of anger behind his crossed arms. “Really, kid? You’re involving the boss’s daughter OR SHOULD I SAY THE DEVIL’S OFFSPRING in your shenanigans?”

You both grin sheepishly. “Happy, relax..it was all her idea. I was just the accomplice, I was cool.” Happy shakes his head in disgust. “You’re lucky I have a sense of humor.” He says, holding up a finger as he walks to the bathroom. “THIS MEANS WAR!” Happy yells out.

“Bring it on, grandpa.” You tease. “You’ll never top this.” You and Peter high-five. “Think we need to wrap this up before he gets any other ideas..” Peter scratches his head as you turn the camera back to yourself.

Peter put on a cowboy-ish accent, “Until next time, folks. We are now signing off.” He tips his invisible hat, still grinning.

-

You’re on a plush couch next to the famous Tony Stark, sitting across from Peter who has the camera in his hand.

“Hey, nonexistent audience, welcome back to our comedy club! We’re here with Mr. Stark since this is a special episode.” Peter leans over at the camera, making him look like he’s upside down.

He pans the camera to you and Tony. Your father looked slightly bewildered and you were enjoying the spotlight.

“Thank you so much for joining us, Mr. Stark.” Peter settles down in front of the two of you. “First off, Y/N—how does it feel to be the daughter of Iron Man? Is it all..uh, glitz and glamour?”

You laugh, glancing at your dad. “It has its pros and cons. I still wanna sue that reporter for calling me a bitch.” Peter laughs at your words and focuses the camera on you as you go on and on about trying out the latest tech before it even reaches the world.

Tony raises an eyebrow at Peter and then looks back at you while you ramble about being a Stark.

“That’s a bit odd,” He places a hand on his chin, probably showing off his goatee. “My daughter likes to do solo projects, so it’s odd seeing you two of all people working together for this..video diary but if you’re out of trouble and it keeps Y/N happy, who am I to complain, right?”

You smirk, “At least Dad’s on board.”

Peter smiles, moving on to the next question. “Y/N, what’s one thing people would be surprised to know about Mr. Stark as a dad?”

You think for a moment, then grin. “He’s actually a big softie. He pretends to be all tough and serious, but he’s the first to offer a hug when you need one. And he makes the best pancakes.”

Tony chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re ruining my tough guy image, kid.”

Peter chuckles but doesn’t remove the camera’s focus from you. “And Mr. Stark, what’s one piece of advice you’d give to Y/N as she navigates her way through life?”

Tony’s expression turns sincere, his tone softening. “Always be true to yourself, buttercup. It’s easy to get caught up in what people expect of you, but at the end of the day, it’s your own integrity and heart that matter the most. And remember, you’re stronger than you think.”

You smile, touched by your dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad.”

Peter glances at his notepad, then back at the two of you. “Alright, final question. Y/N, what’s next for you? Any exciting projects or plans?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, he definitely caught on Peter’s not-so-secret intentions by now. “Well, I’ve got a few ideas in the works,” you say, smiling at the camera. “But you’ll have to stay tuned to find out. Can’t give away all my secrets now, can I?”

Tony leans back. “You know, Peter, you seem very interested in Buttercup’s plans. Any particular reason for that?”

Peter stammers slightly, his cheeks turning a bit red. “Oh, I just think she has some really cool ideas, Mr. Stark.“

You laugh, leaning towards the camera. “And you can bet we’ll be documenting every step of the way in our video diary.”

Peter grins, wrapping up. “Well, that’s it for today’s episode. Big thanks to Tony Stark for joining us. Until next time, keep watching for more adventures.”

As the recording ends, Tony shakes his head, smiling at the two of you. “You know, this might actually be a good thing. Just don’t let it go to your heads.”

You leave the room and the first thing Tony does is head over to Peter. “I’m not the kind of father to tell boys to stay away from their skanky little daughters but..don’t lay your..spider hands, spider legs, eight legs, whatever spiders have on my daughter.”

-

Peter sits on the edge of his bed in his hotel room, bouncing slightly with excitement despite the cuts and bruises covering his face. The adrenaline from the fight still runs through his veins. He can't help but giggle as he replays the battle in his mind.

There's a knock on the door, and before he can respond, you step inside. “Peter? You in here?”

“Y/N! You won’t believe what just happened, I met Captain America and I took his shield and I was like..” Peter puts on a deep voice as he runs his mouth even faster, “Hey, what’s up, everybody? I’m Spiderman from Queens and—”

“Okay, okay, you’re talking too fast.” You stop him but you can’t help but laugh at how enthusiastic he is about everything. “You probably looked impressive out there, Spider-boy, but are you okay? I mean-”

Peter’s grin widens and he interrupts, “I’m more than okay! IT WAS INSANE! I was out there with Iron Man, Black Widow, Captain America, Hawkeye and a bunch of new guys and I..” He stops when he sees how genuinely worried you are. “But yeah, I’m fine..really. Just a scratch.”

You can’t help but smile. “Alright, let’s see those ‘few bruises’ then,” you say, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to you.

This was the moment where you realized you were falling in love with him.

Peter sits beside you, still bubbling with excitement. “Okay, so there was this one moment where I webbed Cap’s shield and—”

“Wait, you webbed Captain America’s shield?”your eyes were wide. “Yeah!” His face lit up. “And then he’s like, ‘You got heart, kid,’ and I’m thinking, ‘Did Captain America just compliment me?’”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s incredible, Peter. But seriously, are you sure you’re okay?”

Peter nods, his expression softening a bit. “Sore, but good. It was just... so surreal. I’ve never been in anything like that before.”

You reach out and gently touch one of the bruises on his cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay. You did great today, Peter. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

“I will, I PROMISE.” He gives you a little pinky promise, both of you linking your small fingers together. His excitement gave way to a more relaxed, contented smile.

As Peter finished talking about everything that happened at the airport in detail, you lean in and press a gentle kiss on his roughed-up cheek. “Goodnight, Pete.”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, nearly all of his blood rushing to his face. “Aww, thanks.” A blush creeped up his face.

As you stand to leave, Peter's gaze shifts to the table where the camera is.

His cheeks flush even deeper as he realizes the camera caught your goodnight kiss. He quickly reaches over to turn it off, Peter can't help but smile as he replays the moment over in his mind until he drifts off into sleep.

This was also the moment he realized he was falling in love with you too.

-

The two of you sat side by side on Peter’s bed, watching the footage from his laptop.

Suddenly, the scene transitions to the part where you kissed Peter goodnight. Peter shifts next to you, scratching the back of his head. “Um, so..that was uh, unexpected!”

You nod as well, “Totally unexpected.”

Peter clears his throat, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but straight into your soul. “I mean, not that it wasn't nice! It was... really nice. But, um, I just didn't expect it.”

You chew on your lip, trying to find the right words. “Right, yeah. I mean, it's not like I planned it or anything. It just... happened.”

There's a long pause when the awkwardness decides to stay forever. Finally, Peter breaks the silence. "I... I have to tell you something. Ever since we started this video diary, I kinda..uh, liked you. Not like a ‘you’re cool’ like but yeah! I..like-like you. More than just a general..likeness.”

You were caught off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s um, even more unexpected.”

Peter winces, his cheek turning as red as his suit. “Yeah, I know, it’s kind of out of the blue..sorry. I didn’t wanna make things weird because I work for your dad of all people.”

“No, it’s not weird..uh.” You shake your head, trying to find the right words to say. “I don’t feel the same way but uh-“

Peter’s eyes widen, “Oh, that’s alright, I mean, I wasn’t forcing you to like me back but—”

“NO! NO! NO!” You sit up and look down at Peter, “I do feel the same way, I uh..like-like you too but it feels like I care a lot more than you do..like I like you a lot more than you like me. Shit like that..”

“Really?” He breathes out, “You do?”

You nod, fixing Peter’s messed-up hair. “Yeah, I do.”

Before either of you can say anything else, Peter gets up, places the laptop on the other side and leans in hesitantly, his lips mere inches from yours. He looks at you, and all you can do in the intensity of the moment is nod. Peter closes the gap and captures your lips in a soft kiss.

He grabs you by the waist and has you straddling him as you try to deepen the kiss. Peter, considering your father, probably thought you had some experience but you didn’t. You, on the other hand, were thankful for the playboy genes kicking in so this wouldn’t turn out horrible.

It's awkward, clumsy, and completely perfect in its imperfection, just like how any other first kiss two people have should be.

You both pull away, breathless and wide-eyed.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door breaks the moment, causing you both to jump apart in surprise. Aunt May's voice calls out from the other side, oblivious to the lovey-dovey moment within.

“Peter, dinner's ready!”

You share a sheepish smile, Peter realizes he’s not alone in his embarrassment. “Guess we'll continue this later,” you say, your cheeks still flushed.

“She makes terrible meatloaf, I just wanted to tell you.” He says as you get off his lap.

You look at the laptop next to Peter and laugh at the sight of Peter blushing and gushing like a fool after you kissed him that night. “I think we turned your video diary into a little romance documentary instead.”

“At least I’ll have something to show people when they ask how we met.” Peter shrugs and closes the laptop.

“You still can’t show that to anyone else, man..” You groan as you stand up, grabbing Peter’s hand to help him up.

[featherandferns]

daylight - prologue

jj maybank x fem!reader | prologue of the daylight series

content warnings: none

word count: 537

blurb: people-watching at a kegger, you find your new muse through your camera lens

His eyes are perfect. They reflect the setting sun like a still lake of water reflects treelines and sky. Clear, crisp and clean. They’re somewhere between blue and green. They remind you of a marsh pond or natural lake, enclosed within shrubs and trees, weeping willows and that sort of thing. His eyelashes are the things that girls would envy: long and naturally curled. Why do men always have such great eyelashes? It’s never fair. 

You watch as crow's feet appear beside his eyes. He must be smiling. Your focus is on his side profile, gazing at him through the viewfinder of your camera. That small mark of technology makes you feel less creepy in your staring. When he laughs, he shifts out of focus and view, shaking with his humour, eyes crinkled and bright. Something about it makes you smile too, as if you’re in on the joke. It’s a small smile. Secretive. He has dimples, you realise. An almost symmetrical smile that is somehow resigned and assertive at once. He’s mesmerising. It’s like he was meant to exist through a camera lens. You take the opportunity to snap a shot the moment he’s back in focus. Two. One more and - yes, perfect. 

You like photographing most things. Nature, people, sports, still-life: you weren’t picky. But eyes - oh, those are your favourite. It has always been a weird obsession of yours. There’s just something about them. They hold so much character; so much emotion, so much feeling. William Shakespeare once said, ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’, and you had to agree. This nameless boy’s eyes are the perfect example. 

But then you realise that you’re seeing his eyes from a whole new angle. 

They’re staring right at you.  

You quickly dart away. Lift the camera up and to the right, as if you’re photographing the sparse treeline which lines the beach. There’s a small thrum of anxiety in your throat which you swallow. You don’t dare look back to where he is. Instead, you distract yourself by adjusting the focus of the camera and zooming in on the branches, hoping to spot some wildlife. A bird is perched on a branch and you take a mundane photo before lowering your camera. You inspect the picture. Then, you finally brave a look to where the boy had been standing before. He’s gone. Phew. As the ‘new girl’ in town, the last thing you needed was the tagline of ‘stalker’. It was intrusive of you to photograph a stranger rather than striking up conversation like any normal person, but the kegger had been overwhelming. Everyone knew each other. Friends upon friends; groups and gangs of teenagers; hell, even the tourists all huddled together like lifelong pals. You felt on the outside. You always liked to people watch. Get a feel for the crowd and the people from a safe distance, your camera acting like a shield.

Looking down to mess with the settings, you take one more glance around to see if you can spot him. He seems to have vanished. Sighing, you lift your camera once more and turn your attention to another crowd of people at the beach, and you continue snapping away. 

read the next part here

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The tears strike like a flash food. Sudden and stormy and completely overwhelming. The world around you disappears behind the wall of your grief. 

When you float into a lull, your swollen eyes taken in the room. You lay in a bed, not your own, none of this is yours. It’s all him. It belongs to him. What about you? Do you belong to him now? Is that what this is? Or is this just about what that part of him inside of you? 

You hiccup and sniffle, rubbing your raw nose as your head pulses. A ripple flows up your back from an unexpected touch and you wince. You hug yourself and angle to see behind you. 

Steve slides his hand up to your shoulder and squeezes, “honey, can I get you anything?” 

You shake your head, the movement aching in your skull, and turn back to the face the room. He sighs and drags his hand down your back. Despite yourself, his touch is soothing. 

“You’re tense. That’s not good for the baby,” he says. 

“Please, not right now,” you plead. 

He’s silent. His fingers continue to rove around your back and walk along the curve of your side. “You’re not excited to be a mom?” He asks. 

You close your eyes as your lip poke out.  

“I’m excited,” he says. “To be a dad. I’ll be a good dad. And a good husband.” 

“Husband?” You his and lean forward so that your almost face down. You just want to stop feeling, to stop thinking, to stop being, and he won’t let you. 

“Yeah, we’ll get married. Make sure the kid grows up right. With both parents.” 

You laugh sardonically. The sort of brittle laugh that hurts. Nothing’s funny, in fact, it’s far from. 

“You don’t even ask me. You just tell me? Yes, Captain, whatever you want.” Your eyes well again, this time in futility. 

“I’m doing the right thing. I’m being a good man. I’ve seen this world. Thing’s aren’t what they used to be. Men like me, they don’t exist. They have no sense of tradition,” he says. 

Tradition? It’s a particular sort of code word that makes all the flags turn red. You suck in your breath and gather your strength. You sit up shakily and look over at him. You can barely keep your head up. 

“I don’t remember. You know that, right? That night is... nothing. It never happened. Not a single second. I woke up and I was blank. I didn’t know it was you, not until you found me, mocked me in that store,” you scoff and your vision rings in agony. “That’s how much it meant and this...” you look down at your stomach. “I guess that’s the consequence.” 

You hear his breath, feel him shift. He sits up, his torso naked. He stares forward as you drop your head and cradle it, bending your knees to support your elbows. He clucks and reaches over. He brings his phone over his lap. 

“Don’t remember.” He taps on the screen so hard you can hear it. 

He angles the screen to you and you reluctantly tilt your head to see. You know before you look. Of course, that’s why he didn’t forget. He has it right there. He recorded it all. 

“...you’re so sexyyyyy...” you slur towards the camera. Your voice, your expression, the way you sway, it’s plain to see your drunk beyond sense. “Come on, cap...” you shake your naked tits at him, “you said you could do this all day.” 

He snickers from behind the lens and approaches the bed. You turn over and show him your ass. You can see a glisten between your legs. It’s not the first time but you wish it could be the last. His hand enters the frame and he dips his fingers between your folds. You moan and wiggle against him. He pushes inside and you can hear how your cunt clings as he pulls out. 

“Stop,” you fling your arm over to shove the phone away. “I can’t watch that--” 

“You wanted it. You said you wanted me. That night was... magical.” 

“It was—I’m married and we’re strangers.” You insist. 

“Was. Were.” He snarls. “I told you I loved you and you said ‘if I weren’t married, Steve Rogers, I could love you too.’ You. You said that.” 

“I was drunk out of my mind,” you rub your temples as your stomach starts to churn. “I was stupid and angry. Well, I’m still stupid.” 

“No, you were unhappy. Your husband didn’t treat you right. We both know it. Everything that’s happened doesn’t change that,” he says. 

“Maybe not but...” 

“But what? You don’t have to slave away in some crappy apartment. I have a penthouse. We have a penthouse. It has lots of room and if you want more room for the kids--” 

“Kids? Plural?” You exclaim, so loud your ears ring. 

“One thing at a time, sure,” he says. “I’m telling you, you don’t have to do all of that with me. All I’m asking is for you. That’s all.” 

You look at him, your eyes dry and sleepy, your cheeks parched. “Maybe I want to be on my own,” you murmur. 

“That’s not what you told me,” he retorts and looks at his phone again. He drags his thumb over it and puts the screen up again. You see yourself. You watch the worst night of your life. 

“You love me, baby?” He asks as you slide up and down his dick. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You grope your chest as you bounce. “I love you, Steve. I love you.” 

You cringe and shake your head. His fingers whiten as he grips the phone tighter. You slump, defeated. 

“You’re not going back to work. Once they see this, they won’t want you,” he blacks the screen. “But I want you, sweetheart. You and our baby.”