#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.

[blkkizzat]

Otaku!Gojo would 100% be the type to make Bunny do nerdy kinky photos like TCG cards covering her naked body😭 and prolly be super corny but loving asl

OTAKU!GOJO WHO HAS YOU MODELING FOR HIM.... "if i get a paper cut on my pussy Toru imma kick your ass!"

"if you get a paper cut on your cute lil cunt ill kiss it better and eat you for 3 hours straight."

it sounded more like a threat then a consolation so you stayed still and silent while Gojo and his professional camera with a monstrously long lens (almost as long as the monster currently poking against his sweats) snapped photos of you in a custom princess lelia looking bra in panty—made entirely of TCG cards.

How Gojo had managed to even make this is out of craft glue and some wire string, you don't know. you don't even know how he surprisingly made the garment fit you like a glove just from your mere measurements alone as he had no previous tailoring experience. Initially you refused to wear it, yet you knew these first edition holographic digimon cards meant the world to Gojo—some there was no guarantee he'd ever find another copy, so the fact he would effectively destroy them to make you a lingerie set in a odd way, still is touching to you. You're blushing even harder realizing that despite his many obsessions and kinks that consume his freetime, you're still the most important thing to him by far—even if he had the craziest ways of showing it. Snapping photos from every angle Gojo tells you to "look sexy" but the cute lil pout on your face turns him on all the same (truthfully any expression would have been sexy to him) as he coaxes you to bend over, the fat of your pussy lips exposed and slick as the cards near your slit warps and shrinks from the moisture. Gojo exposes, like always, his twisted lil kinks had a way of turning you on too. "heh, im gonna have to make the panties out something stronger next time, this cards are no match for you drooling pussy." you whine, which is so cute to him and he loves you so much he can't resist ending the photo shoot early reaching out and snapping the panties right off of you.

truthfully he was going to eat you out for 3 hours straight regardless...

otaku!gojo series

[hanasnx]

Okay, but making a movie with Dick? Umm yes, please. I know he'd put any director to shame. Man handles you into whatever position he needs for the best angle. Definitely invests in that wearable phone holder that goes around the neck, because obvs he needs two hands to do the things he needs to do. Tells you to smile for the camera and honestly you can't even watch the playback because you're truly ashamed of how fucked out and messy your face looks covered in cum, spit, and whatever other fluids decided to join the party

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event!

If you’d have known what you looked like through the lens of his phone, you never would’ve agreed to this. It’s not some kind of perfect porno with professional lighting and a director who’s going for look rather than feel. This is about as unflattering as it gets and that’s part of the appeal for DICK GRAYSON.

All of your rolls of flesh pronounced by the impossible positions he puts you in; all the pitchy and real sounds that come from deep in your gut; all the layers of fluid coating your face—none of it you would’ve wanted documented. Yet, that’s exactly the kind of stuff Dick wants to see, and exactly the kind of fuel he wants for later when he’s missing you and his hand’s around his cock.

The flash of his camera lights up your expression coated in the semi-transparent cocktail. He grins at the screen, Like diamonds, he thinks. You look like dazzling glittery stars. “You did so good for me, baby, jus’ hold it right there.” he coaches, and if your lashes weren’t weighed down by gluey cum you’d be able to see his giddy countenance practically gloating to you that he’s gonna keep this video forever. Instead, you can hear that husky snicker in his voice when he feels particularly devious. “Never looked prettier. Smile for me? Real big- as big as you can.” Sarcastically, you stretch your lips, performing a big toothy grin for him to mirror his. He can tell it’s time for you to go wash off, annoyed by the rapidly cooling glisten on your face, and he straightens to his full height, pocketing his phone. “Ah, alright. You’re off the hook. Let me grab you a towel.”

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Ribbons

CW: light BDSM, some teasing, being recorded during sex, light praise kink. 18+ MDNI ~1.2k words

You never thought buying the dark, velvet fabric would lead to this. You didn't even have a plan for them initially, buying the ribbons more for the fact you liked the deep, red color that reminded you of your boyfriend rather than for an actual purpose.

Jason was more than happy to find a use for them. The smooth velvet criss crosses over your arms, twisting over your wrists into perfect knots, effectively tying your limbs to the headboard above you.

"So perfect like this, baby," Jason murmurs, fingers tracing patterns over every inch of skin he can reach.

He'd been like this for what feels like hours. Light touches, almost teasing as he touches everywhere but where you need him the most, "So pretty all tied up with my colors."

"Jason," You plead, almost begging as he trails the pads of his fingers over your inner thighs, ignoring the wetness pooling between your legs.

He hums softly, idly rubbing his palm back up your stomach to pinch your nipple, "I'm just admiring you, doll. Ain't nothing wrong with that."

You gasp, arching slightly into his touch as you tug at your binds, "You're teasing."

"I'm taking my time," he counters, hand finding purchase against your throat, not to squeeze, but to rest, counting the thrum of your pulse against his skin, "Enjoying my sweet partner."

You use your best puppy dog eyes, twisting against the knots locked across your skin, "You can enjoy me in another way, Jason."

He grins devilishly at you, eyes locking with yours as his fingers leave your throat to track the rise and fall of your chest, "I could, sure. But I'm too busy trying to memorize how you look right now, doll. Can't you be patient a little longer?"

You whine in protest, mind racing for a solution to get what you want, "You don't have to memorize me."

"I want to," he drawls dismissively, palming your waist to admire how his hand seems to swallow you up.

"No, I mean, you wouldn't have to," You start, voice quieting to a mumble, "if you had something to remember this by."

His hand stills against your skin, considering, "Yeah?"

"Then we both could get what we want?" You ask, voice pitching in uncertainty as you turn your head to the side, trying to hide the sheepish look growing in your face.

He taps your cheek, drawing your attention back to him, "And what do you want, sweet thing?"

"You," You breathe out, squirming against the ribbons holding you down, "want you."

He nods thoughtfully, idly stroking the velvet looped around your wrists, "where?"

"You know where," You huff, testing the knots again.

"Be specific," he suggests, lazily following the lines of your body down to your stomach.

"Lower," You nearly whimper, trying to lift your hips to guide him.

His hand comes to a stop against your stomach, spreading his fingers to press down lightly, "Here?"

"No, I–" You trail off with a groan, pulling at the ribbons again before meeting his sly gaze, "I want you inside."

His eyes light up, face all teeth and pride, "There you go. Good job, pretty. Knew you could do it."

He dips his head down to kiss you, swallowing every noise you make as he pulls your thigh up to his hip. He's distracting, head-spinning, and you fail to notice his free hand reaching for his phone as he kisses you senseless.

It's only when he pulls away, leaving a line of spit between you, that you notice him holding his phone up to capture your face.

"Smile, sweet thing," he purrs, and you do, eager to please. He coos at you, angling your face up with his fingers below your chin, "Look at you, all wrapped up in my colors and needy. Being so good for me."

He hums in approval, aiming the camera for your wrists before slowly tilting it down. The glinting lens captures your attention so fully, you almost miss him lining his cock to your dripping cunt, "Gonna keep being good for me, pretty?"

You nod quickly, "yeah– yes, gonna be good, so good–" he cuts off the rest of your mindless babbling when he eases his dick into your fluttering walls. It draws a needy, high-pitched whine from your throat.

He echoes your noises with a moan of his own, grabbing your waist with his free hand to hold you still.

Heat spreads across your skin, and the way his eyes seem to glaze over at the way you clench around him only makes you keen higher.

"Perfect," he groans, lowering the camera to capture every inch of his cock sinking inside you, "Taking me so well. Made for it, baby, made for me."

You mewl, tugging hard at the ribbons holding you down, "Jason, Jason, I wanna–"

"Shh, sweet thing," he soothes, slowly rocking his hips back and forth, his phone catching every drag of his cock, every noise your cunt makes, every movement you make to buck your hips closer to him, "I got you."

He finds the pace that makes your head falls back, pulls noise after noise from your lips, makes your eyes cross, and your words lose meaning.

He grinds his dick against the spot that has you seeing stars, and a knot starts to twist in your stomach, pleasure building higher.

Your babbling reaches a fevered pitch, matching his own blissed out groans. He rewards the way your eyes flutter at the camera with a harsh thrust, making your back off arch the bed.

"That's it, that's it," he praises, and his fingers find your clit to draw tight circles, until you soak his cock with your release.

He snaps his hips into your pussy until he finds his own climax, spilling inside you with a low moan, "Yes, so– so good for me, pretty."

He kisses you when you whine in response, and only pulls away when you're dizzy and panting.

He doesn't forget about the camera in his hand, though, focusing on the dazed, hazy look on your face before lowering his phone to where his dick is still twitching inside you.

He pulls out slowly, like he's relishing the way his and your cum drip out of you, the mess you made of his cock.

"Beautiful," he murmurs when he slips out.

He uses his fingers to gather up the mix of fluids leaking out of your gaping cunt and slowly pushes it back in, recording every second and every spasm of your aching hole, "You good, doll?"

"Mhm," You half whimper, and he finally drops the camera, expertly untying the knots on your wrists.

He lifts each of your hands, littering your skin with quick, soft kisses along the red marks covering your arms, "Wasn't too much?"

You shake your head, mind a little foggy, but no less euphoric, "No. Was nice."

He smiles at you, soft and adoring, before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, "Gonna get you cleaned up, sweet thing."

You hum contently, more interested in rubbing the soft velvet between your fingers, "Can we do that again sometime?"

"Course, doll," he agrees easily, carefully massaging the soreness out of your arms, eyes full of promises, "I'd cover you head to toe in your pretty ribbons, if you'd like."

"I'd like," You admit quietly, soothed by the softness in his voice, the gentleness in his touches.

Jason presses more kisses to the curve of your wrists, gaze locked on every motion you make with sheer devotion. His voice lowers to a hushed vow, "Whatever you want, pretty. Anything at all.”

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙰 - 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛

My headcanons of the LADS Men w/ a Singer/Idol reader [Requested by: liz9898]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

He's a doctor before anything else, but he's making it to every show that he can

Tends to make it to your rehearsals more than your actual shows

wants to read over your contract with your label before you sign anything

always has flowers delivered to your dressing room on the day of your show

He owns every album and ep

"You know you don't have to buy the physical copies right? I can give them to you for free" "Yes I do I'm your number 1 fan will you sign this?"

loves surprising you when you're getting off stage with a small gift or flowers in hand

sets his favorite song as your ringtone

sexy dance with a partner? Absolutely hates it! "Do you have to do that part with him?" "He doesn't touch me Zayne it's just a body roll" "I'm not a fan"

when he can't make it to your show he livestreams it

buys you a bracelet with his name and birthstone "Wear this so you think of me" "Is this so everyone will know I'm taken?" "Thats only a plus"

plans his days off around your return dates when you go on tour

always sends an encouraging texts or calls before your shows

if you dont want your picture taken by paparazzi and he's with you he'll cover every lens with a sheet of ice

comes to your studio sessions when he can and if he can't make it he'll sit on the phone with you.

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

FANBOY FANBOY FANBOY

He's buying every album and ep and damn near setting up a shrine for you

He's at every single show

he has the option to be backstage or front row vip section he's front row 90% of the time

Captures the best angles of you while you're performing

Knows every single word to every song he's singing his little heart out right along with you

That fan page with 2 million followers? Thats his. Those fan edits that keep going viral for how good they are? Thats him.

He's backstage with you massaging and helping with ice packs to cool you down.

"Ice cold water isn't good for her vocal cords bring us room temperature!" suddenly he's the boss?

showers you in compliments after your shows and don't worry if your pre-show nerves start getting to you he's right there gassing you up

Now a sexy dance with a partner? he's not feeling it "I swear he wants to do a little more than dance" "well that would be shocking since his boyfriend is also my backup dancer" "Oh ._."

would 100% pack up and throw himself onto that tour bus the minute you ask if he wants to come with you

covering your face from paparazzi when you don't want your picture taken

those crazy stalkers and haters that are trying to harm you? strange how they keep disappearing huh

flowers and gifts before and after every show

sketches and or paints during your studio sessions; will spend all night/day in there with you he doesn't care he loves watching you and the process

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

supports you in every thing you do he's almost like you're personal bodyguard though

"no pictures" he says calmly as he places his hand on the lens of a pap who was hiding scaring the person shitless because how did he see him and how did he get there so fast

waits patiently backstage so he can carry you back to your dressing room

surveys the crowd silently even though you have security

follows all your fan pages and constantly scouring the internet for any bad press or hate so he can get rid of it

stands outside your dressing room while you rest so no one disturbs you "Xav get in here stop scaring my crew!"

goes over every minor detail with your label and publicity manager when a tour is brought up

tried to cook for you one time while on tour .... your manager nixed that expeditiously

that sexy dance you had with a partner? he got so jealous that you had your choreographer change the dance so he would stop sulking

prefers to carry you around because "you work so hard on stage"

changes your shoes for you and kisses your knee every time

takes naps in the studio when you're recording

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

this man is a mafia leader you think he has time to keep up with your hectic schedule? You bet your ass he does! Priorities baby and you're number 1

he is going over your contract with your label before you sign anything

you're going on tour? He's buying you the best and most comfortable tour bus money can buy

helps you in and out of costume changes

waits backstage with a pair of fluffy slippers and a bottle of water "You were amazing Miss Idol"

tries to sing your songs all the time "Hey baby who sings that?" "You." "Let's keep it that way"

Your dressing room, tour bus, and hotel rooms are always flourishing with gifts

Constantly praises you

follows your fan pages

either gives you a massage or has massages schedule for you to keep you nimble.

buys a recording studio for you so you don't have to pay the ridiculous studio fees

the twins end up becoming two of your backup dancers

gets rid of pictures online that you dislike; stops paparazzi from taking pictures by ruining the cameras with his evol

dont even worry about a stalker or crazy fan with malicious intent Sylus & the twins got that ass taken care of

[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."

[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."

[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.

[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.

[sabrinasopposite]

drinks or coffee?

college!charlie baker x photographer!reader

I'm feeling so good At a bad party We don't have to talk I know that you want me Gotta keep it nice We cannot be naughty We can get drinks Or we could get coffee

summary: y/n is stuck in this lame, boring and bad college party, yet she starts to find more reasons to stay there as she was talking to her crush, charlie baker.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her vintage camera, letting the weight of it steady her. She stood in the corner of the crowded apartment, where strings of fairy lights stretched across the ceiling, casting warm, uneven glows on the peeling walls. The party was alive, pulsing with music and laughter, but Y/N felt like she was outside looking in, a ghost in a room of vibrant, living people.

She raised her camera, the familiar click and hum of the focus grounding her. Through the lens, the world always made sense: fragmented, composed, controllable. She scanned the room, her eye catching on flashes of movement and laughter, on the way the light hit someone’s cheekbone just right. But when her camera landed on him, she froze.

Charlie Baker.

He was leaning against the worn-out bookshelf on the other side of the room, casually laughing at something one of his friends said. He had that effortless charisma Y/N couldn’t look away from.

His dark curls fell perfectly messy over his forehead, and his faded denim jacket looked like it had seen its fair share of oil changes and late-night drives. He was all sharp angles and soft smiles, an easy magnetism that made everyone around him feel seen.

Charlie wasn’t like the others on campus who dressed to impress or strutted their way into conversations. He was real, grounded in a way that felt rare. Y/N had heard bits and pieces about him—how he grew up in a big, chaotic family, how he used to be the star of the football team but decided to trade that life for working with his hands.

Word was he wanted to drop out of college altogether and become a car mechanic, though most people couldn’t understand why someone who looked like that wouldn’t want to be famous instead.

Through the lens, Y/N could admire him without fear. She could notice the little things: the way his hands moved when he talked, rough and calloused but deliberate, or the faint grease stains on his jacket cuffs. He had a habit of glancing down when he laughed, like he didn’t realize how captivating he was.

Her heart tugged, a quiet ache she wasn’t sure what to do with. She lowered the camera and sighed.

“Still hiding behind that thing?”

Her breath hitched. She turned to find Charlie standing beside her, a crooked grin on his face. How did he move so quietly?

“Still asking obvious questions?” she shot back, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Charlie chuckled, a low, warm sound that made the noise of the party blur into static. His smile was lopsided, like he wasn’t sure it belonged to him. “Touché,” he said. “So, what’s the verdict? Getting any good shots, or is this place a creative wasteland?”

Y/N shrugged, her pulse racing. “It’s... lively.”

“Diplomatic answer.” He tilted his head, studying her the way he might study a car engine that wouldn’t start, his brown eyes sharp and curious. “What are you really thinking?”

She tightened her grip on the camera strap. You’re making it impossible to think. Instead, she said, “I’m thinking that not every party needs to be immortalized.”

“Maybe not,” he said, leaning a little closer. “But I’m betting you’ve already found something worth keeping.”

Charlie was the kind of guy who could make anyone feel at ease. He had this way of giving people his full attention, like whatever they were saying was the most important thing in the world. Tonight, though, it felt like his focus was entirely on her, and Y/N didn’t know what to do with it.

He asked her about her photography, genuinely curious, and she found herself talking more than she expected—about her gallery submission, her love for capturing fleeting moments, how the camera helped her make sense of the world.

“You must have the patience of a saint,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Not really.” She smiled, feeling her cheeks heat. “I just know what I’m looking for.”

His gaze lingered on her, a beat too long. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I can see that.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped, and she quickly looked away, pretending to adjust her camera.

It wasn’t fair, the way Charlie existed. He was every bit the campus heartthrob, but there was nothing flashy about him. He didn’t chase attention—it just followed him, like moths to a flame. He continued to carry the conversation as he told her about his love for cars, how he’d spend hours in the garage back home with his dad, rebuilding engines and making junkers run like new. “It’s honest work,” he said, his voice tinged with longing. “There’s something satisfying about fixing something with your hands, you know?”

Y/N nodded, though she didn’t fully understand. What she did understand was the way his face lit up when he talked about it, like it was more than a job—it was who he was. She found herself noticing everything about him: the way his hair caught the light, the faint smudge of grease on his forearm, the way his voice softened when he talked about home. She wanted to capture it all, not with her camera, but just for herself.

As the party wound down, Charlie stayed, lingering in her orbit like a half-finished thought. Someone called him away, and she thought the moment was over. But later, as she stood on the balcony, trying to let the cold air clear her mind, he appeared again. “Thinking about calling it a night?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Maybe.”

He hesitated, then smiled, something shy in the curve of it. “I was thinking of getting coffee. You know, to detox from all... this.” He gestured vaguely toward the party behind them.

Her heart raced, but she shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

When she finally decided to leave, he was waiting by the door.

“Still up for coffee?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitated, a thousand thoughts colliding in her mind. But then she nodded. “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.”

They walked through the quiet streets, the tension between them humming like the low purr of an engine. At the café, under the golden glow of the lights, Charlie leaned forward, his hands wrapped around his cup.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I wasn’t really thinking about the party tonight. I was thinking about you.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her fingers tightening around her own cup.

“I’ve been seeing you in a different light,” he admitted. “And I don’t know if I’m reading this wrong, but...”

She met his gaze, the courage rising unbidden. “You’re not.”

His smile widened, slow and warm, and suddenly, the weight of unspoken words lifted. The night stretched ahead of them, full of possibility, and for the first time, Y/N felt like she didn’t need her camera to hold on to it.

🥡 taglist: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @collywobblvs @tvdelrey @angelsgalore @callicela @seulgi-burgundy

pt 2 is out !

[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

[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

[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. 

[alexanderwales]

An Idiot's Guide to Creating Themes

There's something that Wildbow says about themes, which I'll paraphrase here: themes are something that grow without you even necessarily wanting them to, so long as the characters have strong traits and act consistently.

What this means is that if you have a character who has a real problem with authority, then naturally they're going to frame a lot of things through the lens of authority, and they're naturally going to get in conflicts with people in a position of authority. Suddenly, without even really trying to, you have created a Theme.

I don't really think that this by itself is enough, and think that it helps to bring some intentionality to the process. For one thing, if you have two protagonists who have their own strong traits, you might develop two different competing themes that do not work in harmony with each other, and suddenly people will start asking you "why isn't this two separate stories" and you'll come to the grim realization that they're right.

So if you have a single strong trait, you want to pick your other traits to be in harmony, and you want to do the same when you're thinking up secondary characters, villains, etc. Themes tend to flow a lot easier if all the stuff you're putting into the pot has something that links them together. Ideally you want a funhouse mirror where you get to see a bunch of different sides of your theme, different ways that the characters react to it, their different takes on it, even if you're just doing big shonen battles.

Doing theme construction in this way often involves trying to have the story as a prism, and your job as someone writing the story is to break that beam of light down into its component parts. Find as many pieces as you can, then make those into plot points, characters, side stories, etc.

Let's try an example!

I'm writing a superhero story and want to pick a theme, so first I think about what theme I want to spend a novel exploring, and I decide that the idea that's tickling me is the alienation of globalization and the information age, the way that everything feels overwhelming and Too Big sometimes, like there are a thousand things clawing at me for my attention.

So we start with our protagonist, and he's being pulled in a thousand directions at once, never feeling like he has enough time for anything, but paradoxically, for all that people want his attention and focus, he also feels alone. I haven't yet said that he's a superhero, but sure, it's easy to see how we can fit that in: people want him to solve their problems, to settle their disputes, to use his talents, to help them rise through the ranks, and that's not necessarily what he wants, but he feels trapped by it, like there's no other way to live.

If he's a superhero, he needs a superpower, and writing a story like this I would be extremely careful with what I picked since it needs to help carry many many fight scenes and plot points, but teleportation is my first thought: there's disorientation as he enters a new place, a feeling that he's never really anywhere because he could be everywhere, and maybe some secondary sensory powers on top of that, an ability to see and hear that can help evoke an internet connection (I have not at this point decided whether the setting has smartphones or internet, but I think maybe it works better if it doesn't, because one of the things about themes is that sometimes it's best to come at them from an angle).

So I kind of have a sense of the main character at this point, if not an overall plot. If the guiding star is "information age alienation and how it overwhelms us, offering infinite connection that leaves us lonely", then maybe the plot can be something about that. We can go toward the theme by having some plot about alienation, a society that's drifting apart, and probably a significant figure pushing that, or we can go toward the theme from a different direction, having someone who promises an answer. I like the promise of an answer better, something that our hero has tension against, so we whip up a villain whose whole thing is that the world has gotten too varied, too complicated, and promises a return to simpler times. Maybe they're a cult leader, promising family, promising that through their high-control group everything can be reduced down to something understandable.

(There are at this point many many options for our main villain and his/her powers. Maybe it's a woman who makes the world go still and silent in her wake. Maybe it's a time-traveler acting as a specter of the past. Maybe it's someone with mind control powers seeking to expand their reach until they can put the whole city under their thumb. Maybe they're a former superhero who couldn't take the constant desires and demands of the public and have twisted into a dirty form of self-induldgence. There are many "villain" answers to the question of alienation.)

So we add in some side characters. They should also approach our theme in some way. Here's a quick and dirty brainstorming list:

A friend who is terminally cape-brained, always keeping track of their specific domain of expertise, retreating hard into a niche where they know everything, which takes monumental effort and a sort of nervous anxiety approach to information. Probably a superhero with an info power, name of Dispatch or something.

A father who is blissfully unaware, but shows the flaws of that approach, always ignorant, knowing little about the goings on of the greater world, alienated in his own way by that, unable to connect to people because of it.

A government handler/contact who is a friend, but always pushing our hero, always ready with another thing that needs doing, another cause that needs nudging, a criminal manhunt to help with. A symbol of pressure, anxiety, and overload, but friendly in a way that makes it tough to say no. (A stand-in for the kind of friend who always wants to tell you about the latest atrocity, who doesn't quite demand that you know the name of every person brutalized by the police, or the latest list of people whose shittery has come to light, but does seem mildly disappointed that you're not as tuned in.)

A mentor figure who burned out, maybe a speedster who ran too fast, did too much, let themselves get run into the ground both figuratively and literally.

I think that this is a good enough starting point that if I wanted to writing this story, I probably could, and maybe the core of it would evolve as I wrote, but I have a guiding star to look toward, and one of the great things about setting out to write a theme is that if you ever hit a bump, you can look over at the post-it note that describes the theme in a few words and hopefully, get back on track.

[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.

[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. 

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